The World Beyond

Chapter Eight: 'The First Attack'

At precisely 8:55 the following Thursday evening, Harry stepped through the portrait hole and into the hallway in front of the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady, who looked as though she and her friends had recently been sharing a drink, gave him a wave and a smile. He returned the gesture and started off down the hallway.

Though he knew he was supposed to be in the hall, Harry checked that no one was around before starting down the staircase to the second floor. He went left down the second floor hallway and found the third door on the right. He grabbed the handle, pushed it open just a crack, and peered inside. Sure enough, it was the room he was looking for.

It was an office, slightly smaller than a classroom. Sirius Black was sitting at a desk on the far side of the room, reading over some parchment in front of him. He glanced up as the door creaked and smiled at Harry. "Good. Just on time. Come on in." Harry pushed the door all the way open and stepped in; then he closed it behind him. Professor Black waved him over and Harry slid into one of two chairs facing the professor's desk. "I see you found your way all right?"

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded.

"Good." Black shuffled some papers on his desk and indicated them with his quill. "I know I said we'd start our lessons precisely at nine, but I do have a few more papers to mark, if you don't mind?" Harry shook his head, and Sirius smiled. "Okay. I'll be just a minute."

Harry settled himself comfortably in the chair and glanced around the room. There were several posters on the wall depicting transfiguration techniques; above the desk, a Hogwarts diploma hung next to a Ravenclaw house crest. The floor was covered with a lush carpet that felt nice under Harry's feet and much of the wall space not covered by posters was taken up by shelves full of books and other knickknacks.

An opening of a drawer drew Harry's attention back to Black. The professor had finished his work and was stuffing the papers into a makeshift filing system in his desk. He cleared off his quills and ink and turned to Harry. He absentmindedly placed his wand along with the quills into what looked like an ordinary Muggle pencil cup. "All right then. Shall we begin?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I guess so."

Professor Black stood up, glanced around for a moment, located his wand, and grabbed it with a chuckle. He walked over to an empty area of the room, near the door, and indicated that Harry should follow. Harry jumped up, pulled out his own wand, and joined his professor on the floor where he was now sitting.

"How have you been, Harry, by the way?" Black asked, a concerned look in his eyes.

"I've been fine," Harry responded. Somehow, he thought Professor Black didn't look convinced.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. As far as I know. Why?"

Black shook his head. "Oh, no reason. Did you enjoy yourself in Hogsmeade last weekend?" Harry shrugged indecisively and Black seemed to find proof for his concerns in this. "I was talking to my wife the other day. Well, I talk to her every day, of course, but this time in particular, she mentioned having met you."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Hermione and Parvati and I went to her museum."

"Uh huh." Professor Black nodded. "Did you see the exhibits?" Harry could tell Professor Black knew the answer already, but responded anyway.

"No, Professor." He sighed. "We didn't. We went to see your wife. I hope you don't mind."

Black chuckled. "Not at all. She and Hermione seem to be pretty good friends; Hermione is there nearly every Hogsmeade weekend. What interests me, though, is why you wanted to visit her. And, more precisely, why you were apparently terrified of her."

Harry gulped in a large breath of air. He had dreaded the possibility of this coming up. It hadn't been something he had considered before going to meet Lily Black, but from the time he returned to Hogwarts, it had been weighing heavily on his mind. He had been glad when Professor Black hadn't mentioned it in class, but apparently that hadn't meant he was in the clear.

"I..." He paused. He couldn't think of anything reasonable to say. He couldn't even say that he hadn't been terrified by her because, by all outward appearances, he had. And, if he was honest with himself, looks hadn't been deceiving - he had been scared of her.

"You knew her." Black said. It was a firm statement, not a question. Harry was beginning to think that this professor was too smart for his own good - or at the very least, for his students' good. "You knew her, in your own world and, as with me, you were terrified of being confronted with an alternate version of her." Professor Black glanced at Harry for confirmation of his theory.

Harry shrugged. "That's not exactly true."

"No?"

"I didn't exactly know her." Harry sighed and ran a hand through his already messy hair. "But the rest of your little theory was pretty much true. The 'fear of being confronted with an alternate version of her' thing."

Professor Black shook his head, a smile on his face. "You are a complicated boy, aren't you, Harry?"

"I don't mean to be. It just happens."

"I'm not accusing you," Professor Black said with a chuckle. "It just seems that while the rest of us lead our fairly ordinary lives, yours ends up being more believable as the plot of a novel than as reality. Your being here at all is proof of that."

Harry thought about that for a second. He supposed Professor Black had a fair point, though he couldn't really see why anyone would want to read about his life. "It doesn't seem like it to me, I guess. I've never known anything else."

"At least, when you're dead and gone, you'll be able to say you've led a full, interesting life. That's something many people wish for, you know." Black twirled his wand in his fingers, thinking. "All right, I won't pester you too much at the moment for running from my wife. But I know this whole transition has been hard for you; there's no way it couldn't be. So, if you don't mind - and even if you do - I'll be keeping an eye on you, making sure you're okay. And don't try to tell me you are when you aren't."

Harry, having rarely ever had anyone willing and able to look after him, was in equal parts thrilled and annoyed by Black's interest in his emotions. Still, he supposed, if someone was going to be keeping an eye on him, better Professor Black than Professor Riddle. With a weak smile, Harry said, "Okay."

"Good. Settled. Conversation over." Harry somehow doubted this last statement was true, but didn't bother to think about it as Sirius lifted his wand and pointed it at him. "Now, down to business. I'm pretty much willing to blame your being behind on a slower paced curriculum at your old school. But, just in case it's because your professor was incompetent, we're going to start with the basics, things like wand position."

Harry snorted. "My professor was Professor McGonagall. I got the idea you kind of respected her."

Black raised an eyebrow and scrunched up his nose. "Professor McGonagall as in Headmistress McGonagall?"

"Yeah." Harry nodded. "Only, she's just Deputy Headmistress there."

"Right. Because your Headmaster is this Dumbledore fellow?" Black looked to Harry for confirmation, so he nodded quickly. "I've been meaning to ask Lil if she's ever heard of him. Speaking of which, she gave Miss Patil and Miss Granger advice for their history projects, and was wondering if you wanted some help as well?"

Harry's eyes widened. He had forgotten about that. "Well, sure. My report is supposed to be on Addy Adamson. I've never heard of him, and somehow, I got the impression that I should have."

Professor Black chuckled. "I'm guessing Mr. Longbottom made you feel stupid for not knowing that one?" Harry nodded his agreement. "I expect he was jealous that he didn't get that name. Addy Adamson is an English Quidditch hero, a Seeker. He won the World Cup for England in 1894, the last time we made it to the finals. My daughter could probably help you out on that one; she's Quidditch mad. But I'll mention it to Lily for you."

"Thanks." Harry beamed. He was continually surprised about how accepting and welcoming everyone had been to him and his strange situation. If someone had come to him with the same story, he suspected he would have laughed him right out of the room.

"Now," Sirius interrupted Harry's thoughts, "we really ought to get down to business. The clock is ticking. I want you to put your wand in your wand hand how you would normally hold it..."

As Harry was adjusting his wand in his right hand - he had never felt so self-conscious about the way he held the wand - a loud, frantic knocking began at the door. Black rolled his eyes, said a quick apology to Harry, and yelled in the direction of the door, "Come in!"

The knocking ceased immediately and the doorknob turned. As the door creaked open, Peter Pettigrew peeked his head into the room cautiously. He first looked at the desk and, seeing no one there, turned to find Professor Black and Harry sitting on the ground.

"Ah, Peter," Black said in a cordial but impatient tone. "What can I do for you?"

Harry glared at Pettigrew, but the squib caretaker, focused completely on the professor, took not notice. Harry found that his hatred for the Pettigrew in the other world hadn't allowed him to see this man as a separate person. Every time he passed him in a hallway, he found himself wanting to seek revenge on this more vulnerable Pettigrew, but kept himself in check with the thought that it would not be nearly as satisfying as hurting the man who had really taken his parents.

Meanwhile, as Harry was thinking, Black and Pettigrew were talking. Harry began to listen to their conversation when he picked up on the frantic tone in the caretaker's voice.

"... sorry to disturb you, but the Headmistress is away in London, as you know, called to a Ministry meeting. We don't know when she'll be back - you know that - but this couldn't wait."

"Calm down, Peter," Black said as he stood up and now towered over the frantic man. "Take a deep breath and tell me what's going on."

Pettigrew began to follow these instructions, but only got as far as the deep breath before he was frantic again. "You've got to come now, Professor. I don't think I can explain..."

"All right," Black said with a sigh. "Lead the way."

Pettigrew started to the door with Professor Black following closely behind. After a moment's deliberation, Harry picked himself up off the floor and hurried out the door after them.

Pettigrew walked more quickly than Harry would have supposed his short legs could have carried him. Having let the adults get a head start, Harry found he had to jog to catch up. He hung a little ways back, though, under the fear that Professor Black might send him away if he knew the boy was following.

They went up a flight of stairs, turned down a hallway to the left, and then took a right. As the three of them rounded this final corner, Pettigrew began to slow down and Harry saw what he assumed was the source of concern: a rat's body was laying still by the wall and, judging by Pettigrew's state of mind, he assumed the rat was dead. This assumption was confirmed as they got closer, but Harry couldn't imagine why a dead rat would warrant the attention of the Deputy Headmaster of the school. Professor Black was clearly thinking the same thing.

"I'm very sorry about your rat, Peter," he began, "Really, I am. But, let's face it - rats don't live very long. I don't see how this concerns..."

Professor Black stopped short as his gaze followed the direction Pettigrew's hand was pointing. Words were painted in red that Harry thought might be blood on the wall opposite the rat, but it wasn't the blood that made Harry gasp and step backwards in shock. He tripped over his own feet and fell unceremoniously to the floor, his mouth hanging open in surprise.

Black and Pettigrew whirled around at the sound of Harry's body falling to the floor. They both looked surprised to see him, and Harry wondered if he had really moved that stealthily behind them. He decided they had probably just forgotten about him in their shock at the situation and found he was hoping it did not say what he thought he had read on that wall. Black strode over to the boy, offered a hand, and pulled him to his feet. "Are you okay, Harry?"

Harry made a motion with his head that felt like it was somewhere between shaking no and nodding yes. He found he was slightly dizzy as he walked closer to the wall and read the words to himself again.

"Enemies of the Heir Beware. The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened," Pettigrew read in a strained voice. "What does that even mean?"

"I," Professor Black began and then stopped for a moment. Finally he spoke again, "I honestly have no idea." He walked over and looked at the dead rat's body. "We'll have to have someone check your rat, of course, to see if it died of something other than... well, than whatever rats normally die of."

Harry took a step backwards, muttering to himself, "Basilisk... Petrified... Hermione..." Memories of second year were flooding through his brain, but he couldn't seem to force any of them into spoken words that might help the professor.

Neither Pettigrew nor Black seemed to hear Harry. Pettigrew had actually started crying over the rat, which Harry at first thought was silly, but then realized he might well do the same if the animal in question was Hedwig. Black was poking at the rat and seemed utterly perplexed by it.

Finally, the Deputy Headmaster stood up. He surveyed the hallway around him, clearly not sure what he was looking for. After a moment, he turned to Pettigrew. "I need you to seal off this hallway. No one, yourself included, is to go in and out of here once you have done that. I mean no one. I will owl Professor McGonagall immediately; I want her to see this, but once she does, I want you to clean up this mess. If there's nothing here to be seen, it will deter students from coming down here. I will see if Madame Pomfrey has any expertise regarding animal death; I highly doubt she does, so we'll probably have to call in an outside expert to look at the rat. Once you seal off the hallway, do drop him off in my office, all right? The desk will do fine. Can you do all that?"

Pettigrew nodded and sniffled, a tear running down his cheek. Harry supposed it would be quite hard to disobey the Deputy Headmaster when he was in this authoritative mode.

Black started off down the hallway, and then seemed to notice Harry as if for the first time again. "Potter. Are you all right? Steady on your feet, and all? I know this has been shocking."

Harry tried to speak, but words still wouldn't come out. He nodded instead.

"Good. I need you to go back to Gryffindor common room. Go directly back. No stopping on the way, no trying anything foolish. Do you understand me?" Harry nodded again. "I would walk you back myself, but I really need to get right to owling Minerva. Maybe Peter could walk you?"

"No!" Harry said loudly, suddenly finding his voice. "I mean, I'll just..." He motioned toward the hallway they had come from. Black nodded and Harry turned and walked off in that direction. Black stayed back to talk to Pettigrew for a bit longer, and then headed back to his office. Harry could hear the footsteps not far behind.

His mind was reeling. He knew for a fact he should have said something; this was too like what had happened in his second year for it to be a funny coincidence. He knew that what he knew might be useful, but somehow his voice wouldn't work when he had needed it.

He hadn't even thought that this school might have a Chamber of Secrets, too, and that this Chamber of Secrets might have a basilisk. It had never occurred to him that someone might set it loose on the school. And then the worst thought of all occurred to him: they might suspect him. He felt fairly certain that nothing like this had ever happened here before. And then, just weeks after his arrival, ominous messages appear on the walls and rats turn up dead? He knew this was going to get bad.

Quickening his pace to a jog, Harry resolved to speak up before people had the chance to begin laying blame.

Soon, the Gryffindor common room came into sight. "Back so soon?" the Fat Lady greeted him pleasantly.

"Chocolate frogs," he panted out the new password, not in the mood for small talk. With a huff, she allowed him in. Harry was glad to find the common room was nearly empty. A couple - possibly Neville and the girl he had seen her with in Hogsmeade - were cuddled in one corner, nearly hidden in the shadows, and Hermione was seated in her usual spot on her study sofa, but it was otherwise deserted.

Catching his breath, he collapsed onto the sofa next to Hermione. She finished scribbling a line on her History of Magic essay, put down her quill and closed her ink, and turned to him. She was about to open with a friendly greeting but the words caught in her mouth at the distressed expression on his face.

"What's happened?"

"It's..." He was about to say that it was just like second year all over again when he realized that this Hermione wouldn't make the obvious connection and he would have to explain more than he was in the mood for. He reworded quickly. "It's happening again. No, not the right thing to say, either... I don't know how to even talk about it... and I don't know how to stop it this time."

Hermione looked justifiably confused. She cut through his mumbled nonsense and got straight to the point. "What's happening again?"

"They'll have to tell the whole school. What if it's a human next time? It's not safe!"

"Harry!" She grabbed his face and turned him to face her.

He shook his head and tried to focus his full attention on her. He looked her right in the eyes. "Promise me something, Hermione."

"Anything."

Harry took a deep breath. "I know we've only known each other for a little while, but you trust me, right?" She nodded, still looking confused. "Bad things are happening. Well, they're going to happen. I think. But you've got to believe me - I had nothing to do with it."

"What things did you have nothing to do with?" Hermione was beginning to look as frantic as Harry felt.

"I didn't do anything. Honestly. I didn't before, and I really didn't now. But since I'm new and no one really knows anything about me, they might think... You're the best friend I've got, Hermione. I can't lose you over this." Harry turned pleading eyes toward her.

"Over what, Harry?" She pushed all of her schoolbooks out of the way and scooted even closer to him. He slumped back against the side of the sofa and buried his face in his hands.

"You don't even want to know."

"Well." She looked curiously at him. "Well, I really do want to know. But, Harry, how could you ever think I would think you had done something bad?" She reached over and pulled his hands away from his face.

He looked up and smiled at her. "You really are the greatest, you know that, Hermione?" She blushed, but he didn't notice. "We don't have any tests tomorrow, do we?" She shook her head. "And that essay..."

"Due next week."

"Okay, then I think I'm going to bed now." He jumped from the sofa and headed for the stairs.

Hermione glanced at her watch and then called out, "At 9:45?"

He didn't respond. She spent a few minutes staring at the empty staircase he had disappeared up. Wondering about her strange new friend, Hermione turned back to her homework.

Harry pulled back his bed curtains and collapsed onto his bed, still fully dressed. As he kicked off his shoes, he heard Colin asking if he was all right, but he didn't acknowledge him. He extinguished his bedside light and pulled the curtains around him.

But Harry didn't go to sleep for several more hours. He made himself comfortable on the bed and laid quietly thinking into the night.

To be continued...