They Shook Hands: Year Two (Original Version)

They Shook Hands : Year Two

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic
by Dethryl

Chapter Eleven - Heard It Through The Grapevine

Though the fullness of the evening made it seem late, the hour was still early. In the Slytherin common room, Crabbe, Goyle, and the girls were seated comfortably before the roaring fireplace talking. As Harry sank into one of the numerous beanbag chairs, he sighed in relief. He could finally relax.

"Where have you two been?" Crabbe asked. "Nicking more desserts, I hope."

"We found out where Draco is," Tim answered.

"Where is the git?" Pansy sounded only half-concerned.

"He's in the hospital wing," Harry told her. Suddenly everyone wanted to speak. Harry waited until they had babbled themselves out. "Remember how all the Weasleys were nowhere to be found during the feast?" he asked rhetorically. "Well, apparently they were all out waylaying Draco and using him as a piñata."

"That doesn't make any sense," Crabbe said in a puzzled voice. "Draco is colourful and cheerful, yes, but candy and toys don't fall out of him."

Everyone paused for a moment to blink owlishly at Crabbe. "Why do you know what a piñata is?" Harry asked despite himself. "They come from Mexico." He'd learned that in Muggle school.

"They're pretty popular in India," Crabbe responded. "I saw some when I went there with my dad on a business trip. These kids were swinging at one while an older boy made it float around with his wand."

"Crabbe, I think you took a Bludger to the head the other day," Harry commented. "The point is not whether Draco resembles a piñata, the point is that he was jumped, beaten up, and now he's laying in the hospital wing fighting for his life!"

"Is it bad then?" Blaise sounded very concerned.

"As opposed to good?" Jenna interrupted with a snicker.

"You know what I mean!" Blaise glared at the blonde girl until she lowered her gaze.

"Well, Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let us see him," Tim said. "Which could mean that he's hurt pretty bad, or it could just be that she wanted us out so Draco's father could visit him."

Pansy perked up. "Mister Malfoy is here?"

"Harry and I ran into him in the entrance hall," Tim explained. "Literally."

"What were you brave, handsome boys running from?" Jenna giggled. She pushed her straight blonde hair back and made a face at them.

Harry gave Tim a significant look, which Tim returned. Mr. Malfoy's warning to remain silent about what they had seen was firmly in their minds. "I've got to go get something from my room," Harry demurred, standing up abruptly.

"Yeah, me too," Tim agreed. "And so do you two," he told Crabbe and Goyle.

"We do?"

"Yes, you do," Harry answered.

"Hey, get back here!" Pansy protested as the four boys hightailed it for the dorm. The girls followed suit, and marched in through the door of the boys' dorm, which had deliberately been left open.

"What the hell was that about?" Pansy demanded as she stormed in.

"Close the door, Millie," Tim requested, "and lock it."

"Should we put up a Silencing Charm?" Harry asked.

"I think we ought to," Tim agreed.

"Will you morons stop with all the secrecy and just tell us what's going on?" Pansy snapped, flouncing down on Tim's bed.

"Off of my bed, witch!" he growled. She ignored him.

"Something else is going on in this school," Harry said seriously. "Remember that voice I heard during detention? Well, last night I heard it again. Tim and I went to go talk with Professor Snape, and he's the one who told us about Draco. We were going to try and go see him, but when we were going up the stairs, I heard the voice. It was going on about blood, and I just had the awful feeling that it was going to kill somebody."

"What did you do?" Millie asked in a hushed tone. Everyone was very serious now. The silence seemed to have ridden in with a sudden chill; Blaise shivered.

Harry grimaced. "In what was probably a very dumb move, I tried to follow it. We didn't find whatever it was, but we did find its victim -- Missus Norris."

The room exploded with exclamations of surprise. Pansy called down a blessing on the perpetrator, and Harry could understand why. Nobody liked that evil cat. She'd have you in trouble with Filch faster than you could blink. Were it not for the wide-spread rumours that Filch was a Squib, the little dustmop could easily be taken for his familiar.

"That's not all," Tim interjected. "There was a message written in blood on the wall. It said, 'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir beware.'"

"Heir of what?" Goyle wanted to know.

"What's the Chamber of Secrets?" Blaise queried.

"We don't know," Harry shook his head. "We told Mister Malfoy, but he said not to say a word about it."

"That's odd," Jenna said, chewing on a lock of hair.

"I want to find out what's going on." Harry didn't understand, but this phantom voice had already killed once. It might do so again, and it seemed that only Harry could hear it.

"We should stay far away from it all," Goyle disagreed. "Someone killed Misusus Norris!"

"We can give him a medal for that later," Tim joked. "And if Filch and those like him are the Heir's enemies, I don't think we have anything to worry about."

A knocking at the door interrupted any further discussion. Millie uncharmed the lock and opened it. To everyone's surprise, Terry Boot and Padma Patil stood in the corridor.

"Wotcher, Slytherins," he said cheerfully.

"Hi, Padma," Blaise waved.

"Terry, how did you get in here?" Pansy demanded.

"I banged on the wall for awhile until a fifth year came out and threatened to hex me," he shrugged. "I had to come down and share the news."

"What news?" Tim asked urgently.

"Missus Norris has been petrified!" Terry rejoiced. "Wandering students are now in only half as much danger!"

"What!" the Slytherins exclaimed. Harry was stunned. He'd been convinced that she was dead.

"I know!" Padma completely mistook their enthusiasm. "And that's not all! There was this nasty icky writing on the wall, in blood!"

"Blood?" Tim repeated. "What was the message?"

"'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware,'" Terry breathed in a spooky voice.

"How'd you find all this out?" Harry asked, feeling sick. When he and Tim had run from the scene, he'd have sworn that nobody was around. Had they been seen?

"One of our prefects, Penny Clearwater; she was making her rounds and found everything," Padma informed them. "She ran back to get Douglas, and Cho Chang overheard, and word sort of just spread."

Knowing well how quickly rumours travelled on the Hogwarts grapevine, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. They'd truly gotten away clean.

"I was there when Dumbledore arrived," Terry continued. "Everyone thought Missus Norris was dead, but he said she'd only been petrified. Either way, somebody did something nasty to her."

"Well that's not all that's happened," Millie said, smoothly changing the subject.

Tim started to tell their friends about Draco's assault, but Sam Palce ducked his head in the door. Light glinted off the silver prefect's badge he wore.

"Professor Snape wants to see everyone in the common room right now," Palce told them. "You two had better get back to your house," he said to Terry and Padma.

"Gee, like we don't know what this is about," Jenna grumbled.

Terry and Padma hurried out of Slytherin House, darting by the stern gaze of Professor Snape, who was standing by the door. When the last of the students had sat down in the common room, Snape cleared his throat.

"I have two announcements. First of all, earlier this evening, Draco Malfoy was attacked and beaten." He was forced to pause as angry shouting broke out. "The culprits have been apprehended and are being dealt with," Snape assured them, placing emphasis on the last two words. "Prefect Weasley of Gryffindor managed to keep the scene from turning to tragedy, and Malfoy is resting comfortably in the hospital wing.

"My second announcement is that there has been an attack made on Missus Norris, Caretaker Filch's cat," Snape continued. "She has been petrified. A message was left on the wall, written in blood, proclaiming that the Chamber of Secrets has been opened. An Heir, which the faculty have surmised to mean the Heir of Slytherin," he said the word slowly, "has claimed responsibility."

When they had seen him in the corridor earlier, Professor Snape had looked frazzled, but his whole manner had shifted. Now he appeared on edge. "If any of you knows anything, I ask that you come to me in private. You are my wards, my charges; I can and will protect you. So that you might protect yourselves, I ask that you not get caught up in speculation. If the Heir has truly come to Hogwarts, you do not want to get involved."

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, three topics of conversation raged for dominance on the Hogwarts grapevine. The story of the Chamber of Secrets being opened fell by the wayside in the wake of Draco's assault.

New details were heard from the Gryffindors via the Ravenclaws that not all of the Weasleys had participated. It turned out that Percy the Prefect, well-known for being a stickler for the rules and a general prat, had not only stumbled on the scene and nabbed his siblings in the act, but had rounded the four up and turned them over to Snape. Such an act of sheer cold-bloodedness could be noted in the next edition of Hogwarts: A History and was the cause of great discord at the Gryffindor table.

What had resulted was another topic of discussion: the loss of six hundred points from Gryffindor. Their hourglass in the entrance hall was filled with black onyx gems, negative points, which only the Headmaster or Deputy Head could assign. Every student who passed by the glass was hushed by awe.

Lastly, Fred and George, the twin Beaters, had been thrown off the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Harry was a bit elated at that news. Those two were deadly with a Bludger when it counted. With less than a week to go before the first match of the season, Gryffindor didn't stand a chance now. Flint, Bletchley, and the rest of his teammates were similarly high-spirited. So joyous was Flint that he went over to thank Percy personally.

There were no classes, being that it was Sunday, and with no homework to do, Harry wanted to go see if he could visit with Draco. After wheedling Madam Pomfrey for nearly ten minutes, he finally got her to agree to a quick, quiet visit -- emphasis on the quiet. To his intense surprise, Percy Weasley was sitting with Draco, talking softly to the younger boy.

"'Lo, Weasley," Harry said by way of greeting, not really knowing how he should act.

He got a nod in return. "Potter."

"How is he?" Harry asked.

"Still unconscious," Weasley replied. "Madam does not expect that he shall be too much longer in waking, however. She's a miracle worker, and thank God for that."

Harry was silent for a long moment. "What really happened, Weasley? There's stories flying all over the school, but I want you to tell me."

"And I think you should mind your own business," Weasley said half-heartedly. "But very well. Some juvenile behaviour got out of hand, and your friend here got the brunt of it. I came across the event and stopped it. End of story."

Harry was sceptical. "Surely there's more to it than that," he suggested.

Weasley gave him a withering gaze. "What makes you say that?"

"Palce saw Snape dragging you through the corridors last night. Care to tell me what that was about?" Harry threw Weasley a sly look.

"First of all, Professor Snape was not dragging me. I was merely accompanying him to his office. Second, Potter, if I had any guilt in the matter, do you think I'd still have my prefect's badge? Third, you will respect a prefect, or it will be detention for you," Weasley snapped. He stood up and straightened his robes. "Good day."

Harry watched the boy flounce out of the hospital wing in a huff. "Something sure flew up his knickers," he muttered. He was about to turn to Draco when Madam Pomfrey came bustling over in her starched cap and apron.

"Visiting time is over, Mister Potter," she declared.

"But Ma'am!" Harry protested. He hadn't even gotten to visit with Draco yet.

"No 'but's, Potter. Out with you now. You can come back again tomorrow."

Grumbling, but taking care not to let her hear what he was saying, Harry slouched through the door. Miserable, pompous ass that Weasley was, he'd taken up all the time that Harry might have sat with his friend.

After lunch and before Transfiguration on Monday, Harry and the others rushed up to the hospital wing, laden down with book bags as they were, to visit Draco again. Madam Pomfrey took one cold look at them and peremptorily ordered them all out again.

"Mister Malfoy needs rest, children, and he cannot get it if entire gaggles of noisy youths insist on gawping at him."

Appeals did not move her, and Harry wisely prevented Pansy from making any threats. Disappointed, they had no choice but to leave.

* * *

The next day, Draco finally came out of his induced coma. During the free period before lunch, Harry had passed on heading back to the dungeons to shower after Herbology. Playing a hunch, he detoured up to the hospital wing.

"Madam?" he said, pushing open the door.

A cough from the bed drew his attention.

"Draco!" he exclaimed, hurrying to his friend's side. "Gosh, you look weak as a kitten!"

"You're too kind," Draco rejoindered. "What day is it?"

"Tuesday."

Draco arched one eyebrow. "I appear to have missed a few things. Catch me up?"

As Harry launched into the story, Madam Pomfrey stopped by on her rounds. She gave Harry a stern warning with only a look. Harry swallowed hard and nodded solemnly. He fully understood that Draco needed rest.

"So I wasn't hallucinating when I thought I saw Percy that night," Draco said half to himself. For purposes of the story, they had used the Weasleys given names. Saying 'Weasley' over and over again had gotten too confusing.

"No, he's the one who stopped everything and reported the incident," Harry reiterated.

"Bring him to me," Draco suddenly requested.

Harry jumped. "What?"

"Go find Percy Weasley; tell him I want to see him."

This made little sense. "Why?"

"Because I suspect that the great pillock saved my life," Draco told him. "As much as it pains me, I owe him."

* * *

Harry didn't have all that much trouble finding Percy. During lunch, the red-haired prefect was sitting all by himself at the Gryffindor table. That was odd. Harry could have sworn that the git had some friends. He glanced over at the hourglasses. Then again, maybe not.

"Goyle," he said to get the boy's attention.

"Yeah?" Goyle had half a sandwich stuffed into his mouth. He washed it down with a glass of milk before virtually inhaling the other half.

"I'm talking a walk," Harry said. "You and Crabbe come with me."

"I'm eating!" Crabbe protested around a mouthful.

"Chew with your mouth closed," Blaise admonished him. "You're so crass."

"Eat later," Harry told him.

The sensation of having two hulking bodyguards hovering just behind him was very comforting for Harry as he walked across the Great Hall and deep into enemy territory. Without ceremony, he sat himself down across from the prefect, who was reading a book.

"Weasley, can I talk to you for a minute?" Harry asked. He might as well try to keep this civil.

"Yes, what is it, Potter?"

Well, at least it was a response. "Draco asked me to come find you and bring up to the hospital wing."

Weasley's head came up sharply. "Malfoy is awake?"

"Yes."

"Thank Merlin," he sighed. "And thank you for telling me." He made no move to rise.

Harry was not about to be put off that easily. "He wants to see you," he pressed.

Weasley's eyes flashed. "Patience, Potter; it is a virtue. Malfoy isn't going anywhere soon, and I'll see him after I finish my lunch."

Well, that was the best Harry could do. He'd delivered his message and now could leave. He started to stand up, but Weasley motioned him to wait a moment.

"I do hope this answers your questions about my being involved in such maleficent behaviour," he said quietly. "Next time, refrain from making accusations based on circumstantial evidence."

Harry flushed. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Accepted," Weasley said magnanimously.

The next words Harry spoke came with difficulty. "Turns out you were pretty heroic. You saved my best friend's life. Thanks."

Weasley's cheeks coloured slightly. "Thank you, Potter." He ate the last bite of his sandwich and put his book away. "Good day to you."

* * *

Two days later, things had pretty much quieted down. The sheer number of black gems in the Gryffindor hourglass still elicited comments, but for the most part, the Hogwarts grapevine moved on to other topics. Or perhaps it would be better to say that they moved back to a topic that had more or less been skipped.

It all started while the second year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs were filing into the History of Magic classroom. Quite by accident, Harry was walking near Hermione Granger. The prissy know-it-all was babbling on at a mile a minute.

"There's no copies of Hogwarts, A History in the library," she complained. "They've all been checked out. And I didn't have enough room in my trunk to bring my copy. I had to leave it at home."

"What do you need to look up?" Jones asked. Her voice was light, and it seemed a laugh bubbled right under the surface. "Don't you have that book memorized?"

"Really," Finch-Fletchley joked. "I don't know how many times I've heard you say, 'Well, according to Hogwarts, A History'."

Granger stuck out her tongue at them. "You two can both bugger off. If you would open it up once in awhile and learn something, I wouldn't need to keep quoting it."

Today's lecture was just as boring as every other lecture. Professor Binns, their only ghost professor, entered the classroom by gliding through the blackboard as he always did. The shrivelled teacher's routine never varied. He opened his notes and began to read in a flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class was in a deep stupor. He had been speaking for half an hour when something happened that had never happened before. Granger put up her hand.

Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed.

"Miss, er-?"

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," she said in a clear voice.

Blaise, who had been staring out the window, jerked out of her trance. Pansy's head came up off her folded arms. Millie's elbow slipped off her desk.

Professor Binns blinked.

"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not in myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk snapping and continued with his lecture. "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers-"

He stuttered to a halt. Granger's hand was waving in the air again.

"Miss Grant?"

"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"

Professor Binns was looking at her in amazement. Harry was sure that no student had ever interrupted him before, alive or dead.

"Well," said Professor Binns slowly, "yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peered at Granger as though he had never seen a student properly before. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational tale, even ludicrous, that-"

But the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns' every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. Harry could tell he was completely thrown by such an unusual display of interest.

"Oh, very well," he declared. "Let me see, the Chamber of Secrets. You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago, though the precise date is uncertain, by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named for them. They were Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from the prying eyes of Muggles, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."

He paused, noted that all the students were riveted to their seats, and continued.

"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."

Professor Binns paused again, gathering his thoughts. He pursed his lips, looking like a wrinkled old tortoise.

"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he noted. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."

Silence reigned as he told the story, but it wasn't the usual sleepy silence that dominated Professor Binns' lectures. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him. This was a very creepy ghost story, and they wanted more. Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed.

"The whole thing is errant nonsense, of course," he declared. "Naturally, the school has been searched many times for evidence of such a hidden chamber, searched by the most learned witches and wizards, I might add. It does not exist. It is a tale told to frighten the gullible."

Granger's hand went back in the air. "Sir? What exactly do you mean by 'the horror within' the Chamber?"

"The horror is believed to be some sort of monster, which only the Heir of Slytherin can control," Professor Binns explained in his reedy voice.

The class exchanged anxious looks.

"I tell you, the thing does not exist," Professor Binns said, shuffling his notes. "There is no Chamber and no monster."

"But, sir," said Ernie Macmillan, "if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?"

"Nonsense, Macmillan," Professor Binns scoffed. "If a long succession of headmasters and headmistresses haven't found the thing-"

"But, Professor," piped up Hannah Abbott, "you'd probably have to use Dark Magic to open it, and-"

"Just because a wizard doesn't use Dark Magic doesn't mean he can't, Miss Adam," Professor Binns snapped. "I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore-"

"Maybe you've got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn't-" Megan Jones began, but Professor Binns had had enough.

"That will do!" he said sharply. "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return to history, to solid and verifiable facts.

And within five minutes, the class had sunk back into its usual torpor.

* * *

As they awaited the arrival of Professor Snape, Harry took the time to glare at Weasley belligerently. His attitude was insolent. He wanted Weasley to say something, to make a move. Oh the satisfaction he would get from using Weasley's tongue to clean the floor. The continued presence of him and his siblings, in light of what they had done to Draco, was a gross insult to Slytherin House. How they had not been expelled was anybody's guess.

Today's class would be a double session, and they would be brewing. In the last lecture, Snape had lectured them extensively about the properties of the ingredients. Now they would actually be making the Deflating Draught.

Snape arrived and theatrically slammed the door behind him. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he demanded. "You know what we're doing today. Snap to it!"

As they began bustling, Harry went back to the cabinet that held the student supplies. They were out of wormwood. "Professor?" he said. "There's no wormwood in the cupboard."

Snape looked very unhappy. "Weasley," he called out, a warning plain to hear. "Why is there no wormwood in the student stores?"

Weasley, who had been talking with Neville Longbottom, looked up like a deer caught in a spotlight. He visibly swallowed. "Sorry, sir," he said. "I'll go get some." He practically ran out of the room.

Harry was confused. Since when was Weasley Snape's drudge? He turned to Parvati Patil, who was also retrieving some ingredients. "Oi, Patil. What's that about?"

Patil looked at him quizzically. "You haven't heard? Not only did he lose a hundred-fifty points thanks to his stupid little stunt, but he's also got detention until February."

Whoa. Intense. "Detention," Harry repeated. "With Snape?" he guessed.

"Yup."

"Ouch," was all he could say. He wondered who had made that decision. Snape hated Weasley, but a worse punishment probably couldn't be found. Well, except detention with Lockhart.

"Yes, he has to set up the lab every morning, clean everything up at night." Parvati glared at the git as he hurried back with the wormwood. He avoided her gaze and went quickly back to his own workbench.

"I wish they'd just expelled him," she complained. "Then we might actually have a chance at the House Cup this year. Well, back to it."

Once they knew that Weasley was Snape's new gopher, the cleverest of the Slytherins immediately went to raid the student supplies. Why bother using their own ingredients when they could make Weasley fetch more?

"Oh, Professor!" Blaise called out innocently. There were no more nettles. Snape sent Weasley out to get more. In short order, they ran out of daisy roots and grasshopper wings as well. Each time, Weasley had to leave off his own work and run down to storage.

When the end of the period arrived, everyone was able to turn in a finished product except for Weasley. He was still frantically trying to get the solution to turn yellow as Snape made his rounds.

The frown on Snape's face was worth a thousand insults. "Not finished, Weasley?" he asked. "Well, I suppose you'll just have to try again," he said. "After you clean up the place." Levitating the cauldron with a flick of his wand and a whisper, Snape sent it to the sink, where it tipped over, pouring out the unfinished contents.

Weasley's face sank. "Yes, sir," he muttered. He fetched a sponge and bucket from under the sink and began to prepare for his detention.

Harry was in high spirits as they left the classroom. "Say," he suggested, "anybody up for some Quidditch?"

to be continued...