The Silent Specter of Hogwarts

Chapter Seven: The Professors’ Wing

Harry sat on his Firebolt fifty feet above the Quidditch grounds. His eyes closed and his head tilted back, a small smile playing on his lips. The air was crisp and cold, but Harry savored every breath feeling that up here, in the air, he was finally doing something in which he was good.

“Oi! Potter!” Fred called irritably from somewhere below. “Are you asleep up there? Get back in the game before I send a Bludger your way!”

Harry swooped down a little closer and peered around him, searching for that faint hint of gold in the air. To the far right field, Alicia and Angelina were testing out new passes and throws with Ron, trying to get past him to score points. Ron was sweating and swearing as he whipped to and fro blocking and defending the goals. Already a determined player, the practices had done Ron a world of good, making his blocks and catches more decisive.

Somewhere behind him, Harry heard the familiar buzz and flutter of wings. He slowly looped around, knowing sudden movements made the Snitch veer off in a different direction. He focused his mind, his eyes darting across the air until he saw it. There! He tucked his knees under and leaned forward, the Firebolt immediately responding. He could see the Snitch clearly now, a dozen or so meters ahead. He leaned further forward, rising off the broom and reaching a hand out to grab hold of it when a Bludger came tearing past him, just missing his head.

Harry pitched forward in surprise, barely managing to hold onto the broom as the Firebolt spun bristle over handle. With a heave, Harry pulled himself upright and wobbled as he heard mocking laughter.

“That Bludger’s got your name on it, Potter!”

Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin team was standing in the field below, jeering and taunting the Gryffindors.

“Dammit!” George bellowed. “We have the field reserved, you twits! Gerroff!”

“You had the field reserved,” Malfoy replied dismissively. “You’ve used it up, it’s now our turn.”

Harry swung close to where the other Gryffindors hovered. Angelina checked her watch. “That’s not right. We’ve got at least another hour.”

“Perhaps you’ve got to check your watch again,” Malfoy replied. “It’s obviously stopped working. Just don’t expect one of your Weasley boyfriends to buy you a new one. They’d have to sell their house to afford it.”

“Shut it Malfoy!” Ron shouted. Harry suddenly had a bad feeling as he watched how close Ron was drifting to the snide, blond boy.

“What’s the matter, Weasley? That old broom not able to carry your fat arse?”

Harry zoomed forward to try and intercept Ron and ended up colliding with Angelina as she was pushed out of the way by an angry Fred and George. Ron, however, had beaten them to Malfoy, having jumped off his broom and tackled Malfoy to the ground. Some of the Slytherins circled the fray and soon there was a vicious pile of arms, legs, and red and blond hair rolling around in the mud. Ron was bigger than Malfoy and had quickly pinned him down. Harry was now on the ground and running straight at them as Ron pulled back an arm to send another punch on Malfoy’s nose.

It was a punch that never landed.

Harry came to a screeching halt next to Fred and George who were now glaring at Snape as he held Ron’s arm securely.

“And what exactly are you planning on doing with this arm, Weasley?”

Harry knew that expression in Ron’s eyes, as his friend turned to look at the professor. He’d seen it the night of the Yule Ball as Ron had watched Hermione dance with Victor Krum. “I was planning on breaking this git’s nose, sir.”

“Get up!” Snape hissed. He tugged on Ron’s arm until the redhead had released Malfoy and stood eye to eye with the irate professor. “Fifty points from Gryffindor. And detention!”

“Figures you wouldn’t even listen to my side of things,” Ron said.

Shut up, Ron, Harry thought.

“Two nights of detention!”

Ron gave a loud, gusty snort and Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Would you like to go for three, Weasley?” Ron gritted his teeth and said nothing. “I thought not,” Snape said and turned to the rest of the Gryffindor team. “Now get off the Quidditch field…all of you!”

“But sir, we still have it reserved for another hour!” Fred protested.

“If the six of you remain within my range of vision for another minute, you will all be joining your Keeper in detention.”

“Let’s just go,” Katie Bell said softly and tugged Ron and Harry toward the lockers. “We’ve gotten into enough trouble for one day.” Alicia and Angelina made sure Fred and George weren’t setting fireworks off in Snape’s robes as they watched the professor walk away.

Harry stepped nose to nose with Malfoy, who was sporting a cut lip and a bleeding nose. Malfoy glared right back, wiping the blood off his face with a swipe of his sleeve. Harry jerked his head at the field behind him and bared his teeth in a grim smile, “Try to catch the snitch before sundown, Malfoy. Or Madam Hooch will have to rescue your sorry arse.”

Ron was still furious the next morning at breakfast, glaring daggers at the Slytherin table where the occasional snide remark was made about the Gryffindor team. Hermione was whispering for him to ignore them, but the constant heckling was getting to Harry as well.

“Let’s get out of here,” Hermione finally suggested. “Thank goodness we’ve got Charms with the Hufflepuffs first.”

The rest of the day passed relatively smoothly, despite double Potions with the Slytherins that afternoon. Snape was in a foul mood and willing to bend even for the students in his house. It took everything Harry had to concentrate on his potion now that they had a plan for finding this mysterious chamber. He was eager to get the search started. Ron was sullen throughout dinner, however. Not even the treacle tart he was stabbing with a fork cheered him up.

“I have detention with Snape tonight and tomorrow, so you might as well go on without me.”

“We could wait till you come back,” Hermione said and patted his arm.

Ron flushed a bit and moved his arm away, “And have me smelling like dragon hearts or niffler livers? Forget it. Go on and have a good time. Tell me all about it when you get back.”

Harry and Hermione waited until Ron had left for detention before they set off. Fred and George cast them odd looks as they nonchalantly made their way to the portrait, but said nothing as they slipped out of the crowded Common room.

“Hurry,” Harry said, “put this on.”

He threw the Invisibility Cloak around them both and instructed Hermione to hold the seams closed as he took out the Marauder’s Map from his pocket. The Meditation classroom and surrounding hallways were empty so they quickly set off.

“I’ve brought parchment and a quill,” Hermione whispered, “so we can keep track of where we’ve looked.”

Harry stood inside the Meditation room for a long moment, trying to remember where he went. “It’s all so fuzzy,” he said. “I thought I remembered more details than I actually do.”

“You’re trying to remember impressions,” Hermione replied. “We’ll just have to start on the hallway and do the best we can.”

They followed a straight path down the corridor with Hermione insisting on opening every single door. It was slow work creeping down the dark hallway because she insisted on keeping a detailed log of every room they checked.

“Hermione! I know it’s not among the classrooms on this floor!”

“It always pays to be thorough.”

They ended up by a stairwell at the end of the corridor.

“This looks familiar. There! That portrait, I’ve seen that before.” They carefully took the stairs two steps at a time and halted at the top for Harry to get his bearings. “Right,” he said softly and pointed to a corridor just off the main one. “That way.”

The corridor was long and dimly lit and held nothing more than a few storage closets and more classrooms.

“Harry, it’s late. We have to head back.”

“We’ve only gone through two hallways!”

“Would you rather get caught by Filch?” Hermione tugged on his sleeve. “Come on, we can try again tomorrow night.”

But the next night proved just as frustrating. Hermione was pleased with the crude route she had sketched but Harry was growing impatient. Ron, however, was almost cheerful that they had made very little progress because it meant he could now join them after two evenings staring at Snape.

Getting out of the common room that night, however, proved a bit of a challenge. Neville was once again staring beadily at them with a knowing look on his normally placid face. Fred and George cornered Harry and Ron on new Quidditch strategies, which Ron’s chess skills came in quite handy. And Hermione insisted on finishing her homework before they went anywhere.

It was well past midnight before the common room cleared. Neville had lingered the longest, until Hermione pointedly began caressing her wand, muttering “Petrificus”, and sending him meaningful looks.

“Took him four years, but he’s learning,” Ron said with a wicked grin.

“Don’t make fun of Neville,” Hermione replied. “He means well.”

Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over the three of them and was about to push toward the door when Hermione stopped them.

“What now?” Harry asked.

Hermione pointed at their feet, which was clearly visible from under the cloak. As one, Harry and Hermione turned to look at Ron who had grown at least a head taller than his friends.

Hermione got a fit of the giggles. “I can’t decide which end of him we ought to cover up.”

Even Ron’s ears went pink. “I can’t help it!”

“Well we can’t go like this! Even Mrs. Norris would notice three sets of feet walking about.”

“I’m not staying here so don’t even try suggesting it!” Ron hunched his shoulders and bent his knees till he was at the same level as Harry. The cloak still didn’t touch the top of Hermione’s head. “Will that do then?”

“You look like a duck,” Harry peered below. “But it seems to do the trick.”

It was an awkward walk with Ron bent in half. He muttered complaints about his back and legs from the moment they left the Common room and all the way to where Hermione’s map ended, right in front of a portrait Harry had recognized the night before.

“There’s a corridor through here, I just know it.” Harry said as he unfolded the Marauder’s Map from his pocket. He tapped his wand on the parchment and whispered, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

The map blossomed into life with the usual greetings from Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Harry felt a brief pang as the names appeared, thinking of the men they were today and feeling his father’s absence acutely.

“There doesn’t seem to be a corridor behind the portrait on this map.”

Mr. Moony bids Mr. Harold Potter to tap the map with his wand again.

Harry tapped the parchment right over the dots representing him, Hermione and Ron. The map faded out to be replaced with a detailed drawing of the corridor they were about to enter.

Mssr. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs welcome you to the Professors’ Private Wing. Our congratulations on finding such an auspicious location for your mischief making.

“Wicked!” Ron said, as they looked at all the labeled dots on the page.

Several of the dots were stationary, presumably sleeping professors. Snape appeared to be pacing his quarters and there was activity in McGonagall and Wright’s rooms as well.

“No way!” Hermione said, backing up a space. “We’ll be caught for sure!”

“We’ll just have to be very quiet,” Harry replied.

“But Snape…”

“Rotten luck, that is, Snape being awake.” Ron said. “I’d have liked to put some dung beetles in his bed.”

“Ron!”

“Shhhhh!” Harry commanded. He turned back to the portrait. “But how to get it open?”

Instead of helping, the map gave a riddle.

Regardless of your ability

Your talent or your quest,

The key to this domain

Is to croon your very best!

“What is that supposed to mean?” Harry asked. “Reckon Fluffy is behind that door and we’ve got to sing to him again?”

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. “Think Harry! What’s the only song we’ve ever been asked to sing at all?”

“Don’t tell me we’ve got to sing that barmy school song?” Ron groaned.

“It certainly looks like it.” Harry said. “No wonder Snape gets that look on his face every start of term.”

Ron’s shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. “Can you imagine him standing here singing every day? I wonder what tune he picks.”

Hermione shushed them and stepped forward, softly singing the Hogwarts school song to a Muggle tune Harry recognized. The portrait gave a pop and swung open. Quietly stepping over the threshold, they began to creep along the dark corridor. They paid particular attention around Snape’s door, in case the disgruntled professor decided to step outside of his quarters. Harry held up the map and silently pointed to a room next to Professor Wright’s at the end of the corridor that had an unmarked dot.

Hermione pulled her wand and whispered, “Alohamora.”

Ron immediately straightened the moment they closed the door behind them. The room was dim and its drapes had seen better days. A large four poster bed dominated the room, its discolored curtain hanging loosely around the lone occupant. Harry tossed the cloak to Hermione and drew the curtain to peer inside.

The woman did not stir as Harry bent closer. Long blond hair spread over her pillow, carefully arranged as if regularly brushed. Her light colored eyelashes were almost invisible against her pale, waxen features, her skin smooth and unlined as if neither anger nor laughter had crossed her face in a great while. She was beautiful in many ways, but her very stillness sent a shiver through Harry.

“It’s her!”

Hermione and Ron stepped closer to look. “Blimey!” Ron said. “I didn’t think we’d actually find her this quickly.”

Hermione pressed two fingers under the woman’s jaw. “She’s alive.”

“Now what do we do?” Harry asked.

The tap of footsteps outside the door made Harry jerk the curtains closed.

“Hide!” Ron whispered.

“Over here,” Hermione said and pulled the two boys behind a large, threadbare armchair at the back of the room. She threw the cloak over them and bade them to be silent as the door unlocked and began to open.

Professor Wright stepped in, gingerly carrying a small basin and pitcher. He approached the bed, placed his parcels on a side table and drew the curtains aside completely.

“Hello, love,” he said tenderly to the still figure as he sat on the bed. “I have never slept easily without you, so it’s another late visit for us. Perhaps more news of the day will convince you it’s time to come home.”

He poured a little water from the pitcher onto the basin and dipped a cloth. As he gently wiped her face, he began to tell her about his day. Whatever relationship Professor Wright had had with the sleeping woman, it was obvious that he loved her. There was such longing in his voice as he spoke, so much repressed hopelessness in every word. Harry fervently wished that he were anywhere else but witnessing this very private moment.

He turned toward the door and realized there was no way they could escape without alerting the professor that he was not alone. Hermione had a hand pressed to her lips, an expression of horror and dismay on her face. She had threaded her other arm through Ron’s and was pressed close to his side. Ron sent Harry a rather bemused grin, his cheeks and ears pink once again.

Professor Wright continued to softly talk to the woman, sometimes just holding her hand, other times stroking a hand down her cheek. Harry tried not to fidget as most of the next hour passed and his legs grew tired of standing in one place. Ron was flexing his shoulders a bit and even Hermione looked as if she were ready to slump. Finally, with a soft peck on her cheek, Professor Wright stood. He rearranged the hangings, blew out the candle, and took up the basin and pitcher again.

“Goodnight, my love. See you tomorrow.” And he quietly left.

“That was close,” Ron sighed as he pulled the cloak off and stretched.

“This must be the person he told us about in class,” Hermione said. “No wonder he looked so wistful.” She pressed her hand back on her lips. “It’s just so sad!”

“You aren’t going to start crying, are you?” Ron asked.

“Of course not!” But her eyes had misted over. Instead she turned to Harry. “You must tell him, Harry! You must tell Professor Wright that you’ve seen her! Heard her!”

“Are you mad? Harry can’t admit to a teacher that we snuck into the professor’s wing.”

“Hermione’s right,” Harry said. “If there’s any way for this woman find her way back, I’m going to need Professor Wright’s help. Besides,” Harry said with a last glance at the bed, “it’s time the professor had some hope.”

Ron sighed. “It’s past three in the morning. How about we get some sleep and talk about it again at breakfast?”