Chapter 113

For several long minutes, there was a scene of such confusion that Justin and James were in danger of being squashed and people kept standing in Nearly Headless Nick without a care about the not-so-alive ghost's wellbeing. Harry found himself pinned against the wall as the teachers shouted for quiet. Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her class, one of whom still had black-and-white-striped hair. She used her wand to set off a loud bang, which restored silence and ordered everyone back into their classes. No sooner had the scene cleared somewhat than Ernie the Hufflepuff arrived, panting, on the scene.

"Caught in the act!" Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Harry.

"That will do, Macmillan!" Professor McGonagall spoke sharply shooing the boy away.

Peeves was bobbing overhead, now grinning wickedly, surveying the scene; Peeves always loved chaos. As the teachers bent over Justin, James, and Nearly Headless Nick, examining them, Peeves broke into song:

"Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done,

You're killing off students and friends, you think it's good fun …"

"That's enough, Peeves!" barked Professor McGonagall, and Peeves zoomed away backward, with his tongue out at Harry. Ha, how much he loves bothering the students, especially the ones that are always in trouble like Potter… Hmm, maybe he should work better on his Malfoy accent.

The two petrified boys were carried up to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department, but nobody seemed to know what to do for Nearly Headless Nick, after all this was the first ever ghost to be petrified. In the end, Professor McGonagall conjured a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to Ernie with instructions to waft Nearly Headless Nick up the stairs. This Ernie did, fanning Nick along like a silent black hovercraft leaving Harry and Professor McGonagall alone together.

"This way, Potter," The woman said after letting out a tired sigh.

"Professor," Harry tried to explain himself as soon as he heard her, before things could become even worse for him, "You have to believe me, professor. I swear I wouldn't …"

"Even if I want to believe you, this is way out of my hands, Potter," Professor McGonagall answered the boy curtly.

And so, they marched in silence around a corner and she stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.

"Lemon drop!" she said. This was a password because the gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two. Even full of dread for what was coming, Harry couldn't fail to be amazed. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator. As he and Professor McGonagall stepped onto it, Harry heard the wall thud close behind them. They rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, Harry saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin… Time to meet the Headmaster, Harry thought as he prepared himself for what was to come.

They stepped off the stone staircase at the top, and Professor McGonagall rapped on the door. It opened silently and they entered. Professor McGonagall told Harry to wait and left him there, alone.

That didn't help at all, mostly because Harry started to imagine what his friends would think about what happened. Will they blame him for what happened to James? Or worse will Thomas hate him for that? Then again, knowing them, none of them, not even the two newest additions to their friend group will say anything since everyone knows that neither he nor Thomas were the heirs of the Slytherin or at least Harry hopes so.

Ever since Dobby came that night in the hospital wing, Harry started to wonder how in Merlin's name this prince, the little elf talked about. He had a few suspects in mind, but none of them fit the profile. Malfoy was the most obvious one since he was a pure-blood Slytherin who hated muggle-borns and Harry. But Harry doubted that Malfoy had the brains or the guts to open the chamber and unleash a monster. Besides, Malfoy seemed genuinely scared of the attacks despite his annoying comments about him.

Then there was Thomas, and while Harry hated to even consider him as a possibility, he couldn't ignore the facts. Thomas was a Parselmouth, just like him, and while compared to Thomas, he was barely even a wizard, Thomas proved to everyone time and time again that a muggle-born wizard could best even a trained assassin that was leagues stronger than him.

But Harry quickly dismissed that idea. He knew Thomas better than anyone. He knew that Thomas loved his friends and that he would never hurt anyone intentionally, and above all, Thomas was one of the few people who fought Voldemort and didn't kneel in front of him. Harry sighed and shook his head. He was wasting his time with these wild guesses and right now that didn't help anyone, especially not his friend who had been petrified.

Raising his head, Harry noticed the enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tattered wizard's hat … the Sorting Hat.

Harry hesitated and cast a wary eye around the sleeping witches and wizards on the walls. Surely it couldn't hurt if he took the hat down and tried it on again? Just to see … just to make sure it had put him in the right House, right?

Without wasting any more precious time, Harry walked quietly around the desk, lifted the hat from its shelf, and lowered it slowly onto his head. It was much too large and slipped down over his eyes, just as it had done the last time, he'd put it on. Harry stared at the black inside of the hat, waiting. Then a small voice said in his ear, "Bee in your bonnet, Harry Potter?"

"Er, yes," Harry muttered. "Er … sorry to bother you … I just wanted to ask you something."

"Of course, of course. You've been wondering whether I put you in the right House or not." The hat said smugly at the now distressed boy. "Yes … you were particularly difficult to place. But I stand by what I said before. "

Hearing that, Harry's heart almost leaped out of his chest. "You would have done well in Slytherin."

Harry's stomach plummeted. He grabbed the point of the hat and pulled it off. It hung limply in his hand, grubby and faded. Harry pushed it back onto its shelf, feeling sick.

"You're wrong," he said aloud to the still and silent hat. It didn't move. Harry backed away, watching it. Then a strange, gagging noise behind him made him wheel around.

He wasn't alone after all. Standing on a golden perch behind the door was a decrepit-looking bird that resembled a half-plucked turkey. Harry stared at it and the bird looked balefully back, making its gagging noise again. Harry thought it looked very ill. Its eyes were dull and, even as Harry watched, a couple more feathers fell out of its tail.

Harry was just thinking that all he needed was for Dumbledore's pet bird to die while he was alone in the office with it when the bird burst into flames.

Harry yelled in shock and backed away into the desk. He looked feverishly around in case there was a glass of water somewhere but couldn't see one. The bird, meanwhile, had become a fireball; it gave one loud shriek and the next second there was nothing but a smoldering pile of ash on the floor.

The office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very somber.

"Professor," Harry gasped. "Your bird … I couldn't do anything ... he just caught fire …"

To Harry's astonishment, Dumbledore smiled.

"About time, too," he said. "He's been looking dreadful for days; I've been telling him to get a move on."

Meanwhile, Thomas who got word about what happened to his friend from one of the older Ravenclaw students, rushed towards the infirmary with his friends.

As soon as they got there, Snape who was tasked by the headmaster to stop any students from going inside, well stopped them.

"Grayson, go back to your room. There's nothing you or your friends could do to help here."

Before Thoams could say anything to his professor, Tracey, who for the first time in her life, got the courage to speak to Snape. "How is James, professor?"

"Just like the other two boys… petrified, he will remain like that for now. So, got back to your houses and leave this to us to deal with."

Thomas wanted to push past Snape but both Michael and Adam grabbed his shoulders.

"It's not worth the trouble, Tom." Michael shook his head looking just as sad as Thomas was.

"Michael is right. Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, Professor Snape is right about us not being able to do anything to help."

Thomas turned his head towards Hermione and Daphne, who were standing just a few meters behind him. He saw that both girls were sad and worried, just like him. Hermione looked sad, and Daphne was biting her lip. They cared for James, their friend and classmate, but the one who was the most affected was Tracey, who was to the point of tears. Seeing that, Thomas felt just how helpless he was. And even though he wanted to do something, anything, to help James and the others who had been attacked by whatever petrified them, he knew that his roommates were right. There was nothing they could do for now. Snape had made it clear that they were not allowed to enter the infirmary or to interfere with the investigation. They had no leads, no clues, no answers. They could only wait and hope that the potion that was being prepared would bring their friend back to life. With a heavy heart, Thomas and the others left the infirmary.

The triple attack on Justin, James, and Nearly Headless Nick turned what had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. Strangely enough, it was Nearly Headless Nick's fate that seemed to worry people most. What could do that to a ghost? people asked each other; what terrible power could harm someone already dead? There was almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that students could go home for Christmas, leaving only a few to spend their holiday inside the castle.

"At this rate, we'll be the only ones left," Ron told his friends as they all watched another group of students bringing back the books, they had taken over the last few months or so. "Us, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. What a jolly holiday it's going to be."

Crabbe and Goyle, who always did whatever Malfoy did, had signed up to stay over the holidays, too. Strangely enough, Thomas found this quite unexpected, but welcomed surprised, after their Polyjuice potion was going to be ready soon, and with these two idiots here, it would be easier to fool them for long enough to learn what they needed from Draco.

Just as Thomas, Hermione, Daphne, Tracey, Adam, Michael, Ron, and Harry left the library they met the twins coming God knows where. As soon as they saw Harry, something snapped inside of them and Thomas could practically see the misfortune going to happen to his poor famous friend. Fred and George, however, found all this very funny. They went out of their way to march ahead of Harry and even Thomas, to his dismay, down the corridors, shouting, "Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizards coming through …"

Yet, compared to his younger brothers, Percy was deeply disapproving of this behavior.

"It is not a laughing matter," he said coldly.

"Oh, get out of the way, Percy," said Fred. "Harry and Tommy are in a hurry."

"Yeah, they are off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with their fanged servant," said George, chortling.

However, their younger sister, Ginny didn't find it amusing at all, mostly because it put a bad name on her hero.

"Oh, don't, please Merlin just don't …" the poor little girl wailed every time Fred asked Harry loudly who he was planning to attack next, or when George pretended to ward Harry off with a large clove of garlic when they met.

While rarely they even tried this with Thomas only for the boy to actually turn them into half-snakes, making the twins worship him even more, calling him the evilest wizard to ever live, to the point that Thomas had to teach them some of those transformation magic just to get some free time.

Meanwhile, Harry didn't mind, mostly because it made him feel better that Fred and George, at least, thought the idea of his being Slytherin's heir was quite ludicrous. But their antics seemed to be aggravating Draco Malfoy, who looked increasingly sour each time he saw them at it.

"It's because he's bursting to say it's really him," Ron said knowingly. "You know how he hates anyone beating him at anything, and you two are getting all the credit for his dirty work."

"Ron, you're being ridiculous," Hermione said. "Tom is not the heir of Slytherin, and neither is Harry."

However, that didn't mean they didn't like to see Malfoy suffer. All of them enjoyed watching Fred and George tease and prank him since he deserved it for being such a jerk.

"Besides, it's fun to see Malfoy's face when Fred and George make fun of him," Daphne added with a smirk. "He looks like he's about to explode with rage."

Thomas smiled in response to his friends' words, when Michael, remembered something. "Guys, I think we forgot something…"

"The potion!" Hermione shouted before putting her hand on her mouth. "It's almost ready."

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