The Prefects' Bathroom Dilemma, Our Complete Story Options

[evlpez]

Chapter One

Prefects, Portraits, and Pandemonium by Anhaire

A pair of green eyes, illuminated faintly by the full moon, hovered in the darkness.

“Harry Potter, sir.”

A squeaky voice sounded somewhere above Harry’s head. He rolled over and resettled himself beneath his cozy covers.

“Harry Potter, sir! Wake up!”

The voice was quiet, but penetrating. Harry opened his eyes and sat up. A cool breeze played across his bed. He looked around and saw only blackness. Taking out his wand, he whispered, “Lumos!”

The wand’s thin beam of light showed him nothing around his bed. Then he saw the open window and the pale gray form of a house elf with green eyes, barely visible.

“Harry Potter, sir! Come quickly!”

“Dobby?” Harry asked, amazed. “What-”


“There is no time. Harry Potter must come with Dobby!”

Harry sat up and pulled on his dressing gown. He picked up his wand and the Marauder’s Map, and then glanced back at the house elf.

“How did you get up there?” he asked.


“Dobby used a hover charm, sir, but Harry Potter must fly. Please come help Dobby, sir!”

Harry hesitated a moment, then took his Firebolt from his trunk, mounted it, and slipped out the window. Motioning Harry away, Dobby slid the window closed with his long fingers.


“Thank you, Harry Potter sir!” Dobby said. “Dobby knew Harry Potter would come to help him.”

“But what do you need help with, Dobby? It isn’t even dawn yet.”

Dobby’s head drooped slightly.

“Dobby is sorry, sir, but he needs help. Dobby was in the Prefect’s Bathroom, sir, on the fifth floor, to take a bath, but something is wrong there. The bath doesn’t work, sir!”

“That doesn’t seem too serious,” said Harry, thinking of muggle plumbing, which always needed fixing. He wondered if Dobby’s display of anxiety had been histrionics, designed to get him out of the castle.

“Harry Potter must understand! No one can change the structure of Hogwarts Castle! It would take powerful dark magic, sir! Will you help Dobby?”

“All right,” Harry said, feeling a bit uneasy. “Let’s go.”

Dobby led the way, looking eerie as he drifted along. He kept close to the castle, eyeing the grounds warily. Suddenly he stopped.

“Hide, Harry Potter sir!”

Harry dodged behind a large, decorated window ledge. Peering out, he saw what had alarmed the house elf. Professor Sprout had risen early, and was tending the whortleberry bushes growing outside Greenhouse Two. She had begun teaching the sixth years about the magical properties of the plant only the day before.


“I think it’s safe,” Harry whispered. “It’s still too dark for her to see us.”

Dobby nodded, then turned and rose one floor. He pushed open a small window and floated through. Harry followed with difficulty. After squeezing through, he landed on the beautiful marble floor of the prefect’s bathroom. The first thing he noticed was the large painting of a mermaid about the bath- or at least, it had showed a mermaid on Harry’s last visit to this room. Now it was empty.


“She must have gone to visit one of the other portraits,” thought Harry, but he couldn’t shake off a feeling of unease.

“Look sir,” Dobby said. “Look at the taps.”

Harry looked and saw nothing. He tried turning one on- nothing. After trying about a dozen, he found one that still gushed scented bubbles. He had almost given up on the rest of the taps when a white, ghostly blur rushed out of one. It hovered in midair and seemed to resettle its shape. Harry gasped.

“Peeves?”

The ghost did not answer. He looked almost serious.

“Peeves, what happened? Why were you in there?”

Harry had never dreamed that he might speak this way to the poltergeist.

“Are you all right?”

Peeves did not reply or change his expression. Without a single jest or rude remark, he turned and floated out of the room. Stunned, Harry stared after him for a moment.

“Dobby? Do you know what was wrong with him?”

Dobby’s teeth were chattering.

“Dobby is not knowing, sir, but Dobby is guessing that things are very wrong at Hogwarts...”

Harry had to agree. He started to search the bathroom, looking through all the towels and sinks. He had almost given up when he thought to look in the ornamental jardinière in the corner. Normally it held a decorative fern. Inside, stuck to one of the fronds, was a fragment of parchment. Harry pulled it off carefully.

Prefect’s Bathroom- 5th floor
Password: Spring Flower

Harry held it in his hands, reading and rereading the message. Whoever damaged the bathroom had probably dropped it by accident, but that was not what troubled him. It appeared someone gave the intruder the password, and only prefects knew it. Prefects- they were supposed to be the most responsible students in Hogwarts! Could it even have been Ron or Hermione who had betrayed the school? Harry wasn’t sure. Finally, he turned to the house elf.

“Dobby,” he said, “I’m not sure what I can do about this.”

Dobby’s eyes shone with trust. “Harry Potter will fix it, sir! Dobby knew he would!”

Harry shook his head. He didn’t know how he could solve any of the mystery if he couldn’t trust his own friends. Looking out the window, he saw that it was already dawn.

“I’m going back to the dormitory, Dobby. I’ll walk- it’s too risky to fly. I’ll just say I’m going to an early Quidditch practice, or something.”


Dobby nodded.

“Dobby must go too, sir. He must chop the herbs and vegetables for the jardinière we will serve for lunch. But Dobby will visit Harry Potter soon.”

With that, Dobby scuttled out of the room. Harry followed him more slowly, putting the scrap of parchment in his pocket. He had almost reached the common room when he heard a clattering behind him. It sounded a bit like horse hooves.

Ducking into a corner and pulling out the Marauder’s Map, Harry scanned it frantically. Coming down the hallway toward him was a dot labeled “Sir Cadogan.” Harry blinked, uncomprehending. Another dot, this one labeled “Mermaid,” was next to the first.

Knowing Sir Cadogan was a crazy knight in the painting on the way to divination, Harry leaned out of his hiding place for a better view. Coming down the corridor was, indeed, Sir Cadogan and the mermaid. She was life sized, but Sir Cadogan was rather small. Looking at them, he could see brushstrokes on their clothes and skin, though they appeared solid enough. Certainly, Sir Cadogan was making real noise. The mermaid moved along the corridor as if swimming. Apparently, the air was thick enough for her to engage in natation. Seeing Harry, she made noises in her croaky language.

“No,” Harry said. “No, this can’t be possible.”

[evlpez]

Chapter Two

The Shadow of Resentment by Timeturner

Harry was still in shock when Ron and Hermione found him, the Marauder’s Map dangling from his hand. The portrait subjects had just rounded the corner and were out of sight. Upon seeing Harry, the Mermaid and Sir Cadogen had simply turned around and went back in the direction from which they came. Harry began to follow them when Ron called out to him.

“Harry, wait for us!” Ron yelled. Ron and Hermione hurried down the corridor towards Harry.

“Where have you been?” Ron asked. “I woke up early this morning and your bed was empty.”

“And why are you wandering about in your dressing gown?” Hermione questioned, somewhat concerned.

Instead of answering their questions, Harry ran down the corridor, beckoning Ron and Hermione to follow.

Harry turned the corner following the path he thought he had seen the Mermaid and Sir Cadogen take, but they were nowhere to be found. He checked the Map, scanning it quickly, looking for the two labeled dots in his vicinity. Nothing.

“Impossible,” Harry mumbled. “Where could they have gone?”

“Who are you looking for, mate?” Ron asked, leaning around Harry to peer at the map.

“The Mermaid and Sir Cadogen,” Harry answered, his eyes now frantically searching the old piece of parchment. “I saw them coming down the corridor- out of their frames! They were labeled on the map too, but now they’re gone. I don’t understand.”

“But Harry, that’s not possible. Portraits can’t manifest themselves into a physical form, not like that. Can they?” Ron directed the question at Hermione.

“They can’t manifest themselves, but a powerful witch or wizard could give them form,” Hermione recited. “I’ve read about it. It is possible, but very dangerous, not to mention strictly forbidden by Ministry Law. This is bad Harry, very bad.”

“Yeah, well that’s not all. Come with me,” Harry said.

Harry led Ron and Hermione to the Prefect’s Bathroom. When they reached the Portrait of Boris the Bewildered, who was still in his frame, to everyone’s relief, Harry pulled out the piece of parchment he had found earlier.

“Spring Flower,” Harry called to the portrait, causing it to swing open, permitting their entrance.

“Where did you get that?” Hermione asked sharply, pointing at the parchment. She turned to glare at Ron with suspicion.

“Don’t look at me Hermione! I didn’t give the password to Harry or anyone else,” Ron cried, defending himself against Hermione’s unspoken accusation.

Though normally inure to their arguing, after the events of this morning Harry felt no patience for it. Before Ron and Hermione could continue Harry launched into his story, beginning with Dobby waking him and ending with a description of the solid portraits.

This doesn’t make sense,” Hermione said, biting her lip. “Who would want to change the structure of the castle…and why? I mean really, what purpose would it serve?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “We need to find out which Prefect wrote that password down, that may be the best place to start.”

“Well isn’t it obvious?” Ron asked, as he began to perambulate the perimeter of the tub searching for an additional clue. “Malfoy! It has to be. He’s the worst excuse for a prefect this school’s ever seen. I’d bet a hundred galleons he’s behind this somehow!”

“I don’t know Ron,” Hermione said uncertainly. “I’m not sure Malfoy is smart enough or powerful enough to mastermind something like this.”

“Well maybe he had help or something, but I’m telling you this whole thing stinks like Malfoy,” Ron declared.

“Maybe we could talk to one of the professors? Perhaps something like this has happened before. They may know a counter-spell,” Hermione suggested.

Harry hesitated. If he told a professor it may cause trouble for Dobby. After all, that was why Dobby had come to him, not someone else. Suddenly an idea came to him, he knew just which professor to visit.

“Hagrid! We’ll go see him,” Harry decided. “Everyone’s probably at breakfast right now. We could stop in the kitchen on the way and ask Dobby to keep an eye on Malfoy, in case he is behind all this. Maybe Dobby can stop him before he causes more trouble.”

Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement and the three of them left the bathroom. Wanting to change out of his dressing gown, Harry arranged to meet Ron and Hermione at the entrance of the kitchen, then rushed up to Gryffindor Tower. When he arrived, he was so happy to see the Fat Lady within her frame that he listened to her shrill voice peel off a few notes of her favorite song before calling out the password.

Harry changed quickly and hurried downstairs. He had almost reached the kitchen when he heard the clatter of hooves coming down the corridor. Harry turned around in time to see Sir Cadogen charging towards him. The tiny knight was brandishing his weapon and shouting threats. Sir Cadogen took a swipe at Harry’s leg with his small sword as he passed. Harry dodged him easily and watched the knight continue loudly down the corridor.

Harry continued on, finding Ron and Hermione beneath the familiar picture of fruit. Seeing him approach, Hermione tickled the pear and they all made their way into the busy kitchen.

The house elves were working quickly, cleaning breakfast dishes and beginning the preparations for lunch. Dobby hurried over to Harry when he saw them enter the kitchen.

“Harry Potter! Did you fix Hogwarts?” Dobby asked his eyes wide with hope.

“I’m afraid not, Dobby,” Harry replied. “We might have bigger problems than we thought.”

“What will we do Harry Potter, sir?” Dobby fretted.

“We’re going to see if we can get some help, but we need you to do something while we’re gone,” Harry said.

Harry bent close to Dobby and whispered their request into his floppy ear. The tiny house elf appeared anxious, but excited to be given such an important task.

“Dobby will make Harry Potter and Hogwarts proud,” Dobby declared.

“I know you will Dobby. Just be careful,” Harry warned.

On their way out of the kitchen, Harry described his encounter with Sir Cadogen to Ron and Hermione. They all looked nervously about expecting another attack, but the corridor was deserted with the exception of another student.

“Who’s that?” Ron asked.

“Rose Zeller, second year Hufflepuff,” Hermione replied sounding preoccupied.

Harry could tell Hermione’s mind was racing to find an answer to all of the puzzling events that had occurred. He hoped she came up with something soon, because he felt thoroughly confused.
As they made their way across the grounds they were greeted by Professor Sprout. She waved at them cheerfully nearly spilling the piggin of water she was carrying. They all returned the greeting and quickened their steps when Hagrid’s hut came into view.

Fang began barking when Harry knocked on Hagrid’s heavy wooden door.

“Comin’,” Hagrid called. He pulled the door open only a crack peeking out to see who was knocking. “Good, it’s only you three. Hurry up come in, come in.”

Harry, Hermione, and Ron hurried into the house. Harry wondered why Hagrid appeared so nervous, but realized instantly what the cause of his anxiety was. Sitting in the middle of Hagrid’s kitchen table was a very big snake. Hagrid had him sitting upon a blanket inside a large handmade basket. The snake was coiled but looked very long and thick. Hermione gasped and Ron let out a strangely feminine sounding scream. The snake’s forked tongue made an appearance as it hissed and swayed within the basket.

“Hagrid, wh-what’s that?” Ron stuttered.

“Why he’s a snake Ron. I found him in the Forbidden Forest. He had a cut by his eye so I brought him home and fixed him up. I think I’ll call ‘im Wilbur.”

“Wilbur?” Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows. “Hagrid, are you sure keeping him is a good idea? He could be dangerous.”

“He’s not dangerous! He’s harmless,” Hagrid cried. “Besides, I couldn’t leave him there. The creatures have been telling tales of something strange living in the forest. He could get hurt.”

“Something strange, like what?” Harry asked.

“Another unicorn’s been killed. Somethin’ feasting on its blood, no doubt. Even Aragog is scared, says there’s somethin’ dark and evil lurkin’ out there, he does. Strange happenings. That’s no place for Wilbur,” Hagrid said, reaching into his favorite mew behind the fireplace stones and pulling out a treat, which he tossed to the snake.

Harry wasn’t sure what kind of treat it was, but it appeared furry and the disgusted look on Hermione’s face left little to the imagination. The hunger pains from missing breakfast and now probably lunch as well, faded and were replaced with nausea as Harry watched the lump slide down the snake’s throat.

To replace the image, Harry began telling Hagrid about the events of the morning. Hagrid shook his head when Hermione asked if something like this had happened before.

“Never,” Hagrid said. “Do you three have any ideas who might be behind all this?”

“We’re not really sure,” Harry replied.


Wilbur finished chowing his treat and began making hissing noises, looking directly at Harry. The noise the snake made sounded like hissing to everyone in the room, except Harry. Being able to speak Parseltongue gifted him with the ability to understand exactly what the snake was saying.

“Sssssso, trouble at the castle assss well. You sssay you’re not sure who it issss, but you’re wrong. You know. You know. After all it isss your fault she’s out there. You and the girl,” the snake added swinging his head towards Hermione. “You left the monster in the Forest. I saw you leave her to be punished by the Centaurs. Well she lived and now she plans to wreak vengeance upon usssss all.”

Harry didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to say her name out loud, but he did anyway.

“Umbridge…”

[evlpez]

Chapter Three

Slytherin’s Sycophant by StarWalker


“Umbridge!”

The single word echoed through the sudden silence in Hagrid’s home; brought heads up with a snap to look at Harry, differing expressions of horror and revulsion on each; and caused the back of Harry’s right hand to burn with a pain that seared into his mind. Umbridge, the great toad from the Ministry Of Magic, ordained by Cornelius Fudge, the minister himself, and sent to suppress the knowledge that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named once again walked among men. Both Harry and Hagrid had suffered physically from her evil; to Hagrid, her actions were more immediate and real than those of Voldemort himself.

“No, ‘arry! That canna’ be right. She left long ago.” Hagrid’s voice was a loud rasping whisper, overflowing with emotion. “She wouldn’t, couldn’t come back! The centaurs wouldn’t let her, and Grawp…”

“Can’t you just ask the centaurs?” Hermione filled the void left by Hagrid’s trailing comment. “I mean, they don’t want her in the forest – look how she thinks of half-breeds…” At the stricken look on Hagrid’s face she stopped, then continued, “Blast that woman! She’s the most wicked, disgusting excuse…”

“Where is she?” Harry spoke to Wilbur, slipping easily into the role of translator. “Do you know where she is hiding?”

“Sshe doesss not hide from you, foolissh ssstripling. Sshe walksss the pathsss of the ancient onesss, ssseeking our old friend, who left usss ssso long ago. With hisss help we were to become powerful, but he long ago departed our landsss, driven out by hisss friendsss.

“Evil followsss her everywhere; sshe triesss to command the sshade of a pillar of the ssschool, but it will consssume her, and all of usss!” Wilbur finished speaking, and coiled up on its blanket, while the rest stared at Harry. “Sshe and the sshade will be found by the large one, for both enjoy the tormenting of one sssuch asss him.”

Though both Hermione and Ron knew he was a Parceltongue, the conversation still made them pull back in surprise, for the speech was as much a hypnotic movement of Harry’s head and shoulders, as it was a hiss. Hagrid, who only knew of Harry’s gift by hearsay, watched fascinated. “Say, Harry, does Wilbur like it here?”

“Hagrid!”

“Sorry, ‘ermione,” Hagrid apologized, looking sheepish. “It’s just, well, I, er, just wanted to know if he’s ok! Tea, anyone?” He poured steaming mugs for each, and passed them around, ignoring the chorus of negatives.

“What did it say, Harry?” Ron asked.

“Umbridge is in the forest, and is causing the problems at the school.” He said heavily, rubbing the back of his right hand unconsciously. “He also said it’s our fault, and that she’s trying to order the shadow of a pillar, I think.”

“Our fault! How can it be our fault?” Indignation oozed from every aspect of Hermione’s face and stance. “Does it think we brought her here?”

“Well, we did take her into the forest and leave her.” Ron took a sip of his tea, made a face, and set the mug down on the floor.

“That’s what it said. It also said she’s come back to punish us all, and something about ancient paths and old friends. The first part was clear; I didn’t completely understand the rest.” As Harry stopped, there was quiet, as each tried to digest his words in their own fashion. “Oh, and the last thing it said was, that we could find them by ‘the large one’, whatever that…”

“Grawp!” Hagrid’s booming cry blended with the sound of his stool banging into the wall, and the crash of his oversized mug, which showered them with hot tea, as it broke against the floor. “I’m on m’ way!”

“Hagrid! No! Wait!” Hermione’s cries were lost, as Hagrid plunged into the forest, grabbing only his crossbow and a quiver of bolts.

“Now what?” Ron looked from Hermione to Harry and back. “Do you suppose Wilbur really meant they’re hiding with Grawp?”

“Not likely,” snorted Hermione. “Remember how she hates half bloods. What exactly did it say about Grawp, Harry?” She looked at him expectantly.

Harry frowned in concentration, trying to recall the snake’s exact words. “It said something like ‘she and her shadow would be by the large one,’ then there was more, about ‘both enjoying tormenting such as him.’”

“It said, not just ‘him’, but ‘such as him’?” Hermione questioned, looking puzzled.

“Yeah, I think so,” Harry retorted. “Look, what does it matter? We’ve got to do something.”

“Well that certainly sounds like Umbridge.” After a brief pause, she continued. “I think it’s time to go talk to Professor Dumbledore.” For the first time, since the three had met on the Hogwarts Express five years earlier, neither of the boys argued with her.

During the return to the castle, Hermione continued to pester Harry, trying to get more details about what the snake had said, until Ron interrupted her badgering, pointing overhead. “Look Harry! That looks like your Firebolt Malfoy’s flying!”

Harry turned, only to see Draco whiz by, laughing, and to hear his taunts. “Hey Potter! Lose something!”

“Drat! Where did he…” A moment’s reflection reminded him that he had left his broom in the niche where he had ducked when he first heard Sir Cadogan clamoring down the corridor. “Now how…”

“Call it,” Hermione urged, “like you did in the Triwizard Tournament.!”

Uncertain if her idea would work with a rider on the broom, but with no better one of his own, Harry held his left hand up towards Draco, and pulled his wand with his right. “ACCIO FIREBOLT!”

The reaction was immediate, and humorous. Harry’s broom seemed to gain a mind of its own, and the three on the ground watched Malfoy fight to keep from returning to earth, clearly a losing struggle. Besides its obvious attempts to reach Harry, the Firebolt also seemed to be trying to throw its rider, bucking and spinning in loops and high speed turns, ending only when it unceremoniously dumped Draco in front of the grinning trio. Harry grabbed the broom as it continued into his hand.

“No, but I bet you did!” He laughed as he pulled the scrap of parchment he had found earlier in the bath from his pocket, and waved it in front of Malfoy. “Can’t remember the password, or was it Crabbe or …”

At Hermione’s sharp poke in the ribs, he quit talking and looked closely at Draco’s face. Staring at the scrap in Harry’s hand, he struggled to control the conflicting feelings of fear, anger, and hatred.

“Give me that!” he hissed through clenched teeth, as he grabbed at the parchment.

Harry slapped his hand away, and shoved the document back into his pocket. “I don’t think so.”

“Don’t think what, Potter? Aside from the obvious, of course.” The oily tones were enough to identify the speaker; the smirk that greeted him, as he turned, was the salt in the wound.

“He has a parchment that belongs to me,” Malfoy accused, his face carefully blank, no trace remaining of the fear and anger that marked it a moment before.

Professor Snape held out his hand. “If you please, Mr. Potter.”

“We found that in the prefect’s bathroom to the fifth floor, Professor,” Hermione quickly said, cutting off Ron and Harry. “It has the password on it, and there’s something wrong…”

“That’s quite enough, Miss Granger. I see you still haven’t learned when to hold your tongue. Ten points from Gryffindor, I think, for each of you.” He took the parchment and gave it to Malfoy. “Now, I’m certain all of you have something better to do than to stand in the doorway.” As Professor Snape swept passed them, Malfoy turned and ran into the castle.

“Well at least we know where the parchment came from,” Ron said, as they continued towards Dumbledore’s office.

“Maybe,” agreed Hermione, “but did you see how frightened he was? He didn’t even ask why Harry had it, instead of you or me. He’s hiding something. And Professor Snape was sure in a hurry to go somewhere.”

“Hold on,” Harry commanded, suddenly stopping, and looking at the broom in his hand. “I want to take this back to the room, and we should probably check with Dobby before we see Professor Dumbledore. I mean, we can guess what Malfoy was doing, but I did ask Dobby to watch him.”

Ten minutes later, Ron tickled the pear, and they entered the kitchen. Preparations for the evening’s meal were almost complete; they found Dobby by one of the big fireplaces, sitting with Winky. When he saw them coming, he jumped up and ran to greet them.

“Harry Potter, sir” he squeaked, his high-pitched voice cracking. “Dobby has failed Harry Potter!”

“How’s that, Dobby?”

Dobby drew as close to the three as possible, then whispered only slightly quieter than his normal speaking voice, “Dobby has done what you asked, but Dobby could not go with the old master’s son. Dobby followed him until he went into the prefect’s bathroom, but when he went out the other door, Dobby could not go.”

“Other door? What other door, Dobby?” Hermione’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement.

“Through the picture, Miss. Harry Potter asked Dobby to follow, but Dobby did not hear the password. Old young master speak and then went through, but Dobby could not. Dobby did see who waits for him,” he added eagerly.

“Waits for whom, Malfoy?” Ron addressed his question to Hermione, but Dobby answered.

“She waited.” The fear was palpable in Dobby’s squeaky words, it showed in his eyes, and face as well. “The Frog Lady!”

Only one person matched that description, and there was only one woman who inspired such fear in Dobby. Harry felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, as the import of the words penetrated. Umbridge was here, in the castle, in a secret room or passage behind the picture of the mermaid in the prefect’s bathroom.

“Something doesn’t fit,” Hermione said, looking into Harry’s stunned eyes. “Dobby, didn’t you tell Harry that only very powerful magic, Dark magic, could affect the structure of the school?”

“Yes, Miss. Only Dark magic could free the pictures. Only very powerful magic can shut down the water.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” she said to a puzzled Ron and Harry. “Umbridge couldn’t even get rid of the twins’ portable swamp. Everything we know about her tells us that she is a mediocre witch, and definitely not up to this type of magic.

“There has to be something we’re missing.”

“Let’s go to the bathroom, and have a look at that picture,” Ron said restlessly. “Maybe we can find the opening.” His demeanor brightened at the thought. “Just think, we might find a secret passage out of the school that Fred and George don’t know about!”

“We already know of one of those,” Harry said bleakly. As Hermione and Ron looked at him questioningly, he continued. “We know how to get into the Chamber of Secrets, and the Marauders’ didn’t.” Harry turned and left the kitchen; the other two looked at each other, and then followed.

They were approaching the fifth floor bathroom, when they saw Sir Nicholas and the Fat Friar drifting towards them, deep in conversation; the normally cheerful spirits were somber. Harry started to greet the two house ghosts, but Hermione motioned for quiet, holding a finger to her lips.

“…and Peeves was up to one of his tricks, out in the forest last night, when he literally ran through Salazar’s revenant,” Sir Nicholas explained to the Friar.

“I presume Peeves’ actions failed to impress him,” said the genial Hufflepuff house ghost.

“Exactly right! Of course, it didn’t help that Peeves was arguing with her, and taunting her, when Slytherin arrived. In fact, Peeves had just performed a transmogrification into a rat with Salazar’s face.”

“Oh, how he hated rats!” The Friar laughed.

“That would be an understatement! You know how the Bloody Baron dislikes Peeves, so you can imagine how Salazar hates him. When Peeves returned this morning, he went into hiding somewhere, and hasn’t been seen, or heard, all day.”

“Sir Nicholas!” Hermione called, as she ran towards him, the two boys close behind.

“Good afternoon, Hermione.” Sir Nicholas stopped. “May I help you?”

“Did I hear you say ‘Salazar’? As in Salazar Slytherin?”

“You did indeed!” He beamed at the three. “Salazar’s shade has recently been among us.” After lowering his voice and looking around furtively, he continued. “Between you and me, he’s not happy, either. He’s perfectly content being dead.”

“Wait a minute!” Harry exclaimed, as the two spirits began to drift away. “Are you saying Salazar Slytherin is no longer dead?”

Sir Nicholas stopped, turned in the air, adjusted the ruff on his collar carefully, and looked gravely at Harry. “I believe I told you at the end of last year, there is no way to return from beyond the veil of death, Harry. There is, however, one way, a very ancient way, to give a wraith a new life. It would not be the original again, but it would be a life, of sorts.” He turned back to the friar, and the two ghosts drifted through the wall, leaving Harry and the others staring after them.

Ron looked from Harry to Hermione. “What was that all about?”

“Oh Ron, think!” Hermione was simultaneously exasperated and worried. “We know Umbridge isn’t a powerful enough witch to cause the trouble we’ve seen here. But Salazar Slytherin certainly could, because his magic went into constructing the school!”

Hermione turned to Harry. “What, exactly, did that snake say? You mentioned ‘old paths and friends’ that Umbridge was using.”

Harry leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes. Picturing the scene at Hagrid’s in his mind, he struggled to remember what the snake had said. Haltingly, he began to recite.

“It spoke in three sections. The first told of our knowledge, that we knew the cause, and the cause was the same in the school and the forest. It repeated that we knew her, and had left her with the centaurs.

“When it spoke the second time, it said she wasn’t trying to hide, but was on ancient paths, looking for an old friend of the snakes, who had promised power, but had left long ago.

“Finally, it said she was trying to command a shadow of a pillar that would consume her and all of us. Then it said where to find them.”

Opening his eyes, Harry stood away from the wall; Hermione and Ron looked at him intently. “Harry, did the snake say ‘shadow’ or ‘shade’?” Hermione asked.

After a moments thought, Harry replied slowly. “Parceltongue doesn’t really have different thoughts for the two. Why, does it make a difference?”

“It might,” Hermione replied. “Sir Nicolas said Salazar’s shade was with the ghosts …”

“But isn’t a ‘shade’ a ghost, or a ‘shadow’ of the real person?” Ron asked. “So it wouldn’t matter which it said.”

“Right!” exclaimed Hermione. “That’s what I’m trying to say. Suppose Wilbur was telling you that Umbridge had found and made a pact with Salazar Slytherin’s spirit.”

“A ghost can’t do what’s happening here,” Ron argued. “They can’t affect reality.”

“Spring flower.” Boris opened the portal to let them pass, as Ron and Hermione continued their discussion.

Leaving them, Harry wandered over to the portrait frame that normally held the mermaid. After gazing at the bare rock and gently lapping sea, he ran his fingers around the edges, feeling for any abnormality. “What is the password?” Harry whispered, thinking aloud.

“You won’t find anything that way!” The words came from next to his ear, so softly Harry was uncertain if he heard or thought them. Turning his head, he could see his friends still talking. “You cannot see me, only hear me,” the feminine voice continued.

“Who are you” Harry whispered, “and why can’t I see you?”

“It is enough that I can speak to you, and you can hear me.” The reply did nothing to reassure Harry. “I will give you the password, but first I give you warning. Beyond that portal lies danger beyond imagining, for Dolores Umbridge does not understand the power she is trying to release. If you fail, you will die, for Salazar will not tolerate interference, and if Umbridge succeeds, you will fail.

“Yet, it must fall on you to stop her, because I am bound here, and can only help those who want instruction. As I lived, so I now exist, accepting all who seek, though now I am but an echo of enchantments built into the foundations of our creation.

“So, young Harry, the word you seek is ‘Goherosa’. There is still time, but you must hurry. The danger is very great.”

“But what’s in there?” Harry asked. No answer came. “Ron! Hermione!” he called, then stood back from the frame. “GOHEROSA!”

“Where did you come up with that?” Ron asked, as he and Hermione joined Harry. They watched the portal open, not like the others in the castle, where the portraits swung aside, but with a shimmering dissolution of a section of the stone wall itself, creating a large rectangular doorway. Little could be seen through the door. Dimly lit fog billowed into the warm room, bringing with it a damp chill and precluding vision.

Harry looked at the others, then turned and stepped through the opening. His friends looked at each other, and then plunged after him.

They found themselves outside, in a thickly overgrown section of swamp. Air, cold, and heavy with moisture, deposited a film on Harry’s glasses. Unable to see, he stumbled over the snarled tree roots and fell into the undergrowth; the oppressive air muffled the sound. The fetor of rotting vegetation was overpowering. Ron covered his mouth and nose with one hand, and retched at the assault of odors. Hermione quickly produced a handkerchief to cover her own lower face. Harry wiped his glasses, and stood.

Ahead they could dimly see a path, which snaked towards a source of dim light. “Let’s get away from this stench!” Ron whispered hoarsely, continuing to gag. Scrambling out of the slight depression, they discovered the air more breathable, with only a faint hint of the putrid smell of the hollow.

“Lumos!” Harry softly created a light at the tip of his wand, and then carefully started to follow the trail.

“Harry! Where are you going?” Hermione snapped sharply. “How did you know that password?”

“Quiet!” Harry snapped through clenched teeth, as he turned and continued whispering, quickly telling them about his conversation with the voice next to the painting.

“Oh Harry, don’t you ever learn?” Hermione asked resignedly. “That could have been anyone; even Umbridge, trying to get you out here.”

“And just how would she have known I’d be at that spot?” Harry snapped back, voice rising. “She knows I’m not a prefect.”

“Shhh,” urged Ron, as the swamp noises seemed to recede in the wake of Harry’s onslaught. “We’re here now, and can’t go back…”

“Why can’t we go back?” Hermione whispered, alarmed.

“I didn’t see an opening where we came out. Did you?”

“We’re not going back!” Harry emphatically cut in. “At least, I’m not.”

Turning, he continued slowly down the path; Ron, then Hermione, followed him. The land gradually rose, and they found themselves meandering along the edge of the swamp, the trail plainly visible in the light filtering through the vegetation ahead. Harry extinguished his wand, as they started to hear voices, deadened by the still present mist. Approaching another twist in the path, they detected an opening beyond; the source of both the voices and flickering illumination was somewhere in that clearing.

Moving off the path, Harry sidled up to the edge, carefully remaining hidden behind the bordering trees. He found himself crouched behind the lip of another hollow, looking down onto a scene that could have come from one of the paintings on the castle walls. An old stone cottage occupied the far side, a dim light coming from one of the windows, smoke rising from the half-crumbled chimney. Moss and vines covered most of the stone; an opening had been recently hacked through the heavy growth covering the entryway.

Two fires burned, one was large, providing heat and light, the other much smaller. It was this smaller one that drew their sight. Glowing coals formed a precise circle, about 6 feet across; the air above shimmered in the heat; the objects on the far side wavered and danced. Exactly in the center, about three feet from the ground, floated the eidolon of Salazar Slytherin, twisting in the mist and smoke; before him stood Dolores Umbridge.

Harry’s hand started to throb once again, as he watched her talking to Slytherin. Memories of last year flooded his mind, comparisons made between the then and the now. She still wore one of her pink cardigans, but it was no longer fluffy. Instead, it was tattered and dirty, the original color barely visible. Her broad toad-like face had changed only because her eyes had sunk deeper, her face now more like a skin covered skull. Matted and filthy, her hair hung in dank strings, adding to her disheveled appearance.

As he caught sight of her eyes, Harry realized she was quite insane. They burned in the light of the fire with a hatred of everything. He had the feeling she cared for neither the living nor the dead; certainly, her haranguing of Slytherin indicated the depth of her madness, for she seemed to fear not even the ghost that frightened Peeves.

“No!’ Hermione’s gasp and jab caused Harry to tear his eyes from Umbridge, and look towards the larger fire. In the flicker of the flames, he could see a rude stone altar, similar to those of the ancient Druids, and on it lay a man. Next to the body, he could see several jars, slender, about a foot tall. On a wooden bench beside the altar, were five white stone cylinders; four of them had seals on either end, the fifth only on one end. Next to the altar, a unicorn lay lifeless, crumpled, its beauty undiminished, even in death. Drops of its blood showed silver in the moonlight that flickered through the trees and the mist.

.Anger flooded through his mind; he leaped to his feet, barely aware that Ron and Hermione flanked him. Three voices rang out as one. “EXPELLIARMUS!”

The wand Umbridge was waggling at Salazar flew from her hand and shattered against the cottage. “NO-O-O!”

Umbridge’s scream masked Hermione follow-up, “ACCIO WAND,” that snapped the splintered pieces into her hand. Face hard set, Hermione led the charge down into the hollow, followed closely by Harry and Ron.

“Throw me my wand!” Salazar Slytherin’s command caused the three to pause; his icy voice, brittle and cold, sent a chill down their backs.

Again, Umbridge cried, “NO-O-O!” Spittle flew from her mouth as she rushed Harry, a slender twig in her hand, raised as if to stab him. “STUPEFY!” The screamed command accompanied by a flick of her wrist, sent a dirty green light, shot through with silver, shooting from the end of the twig. Striking all three full in the chest, Harry fell, aware of Umbridge’s mad scream of victory as consciousness fled.

His last memory was Hermione’s face, and a single, whispered word. “IMPEDIMENTA!” Strangely, he’d never noticed that Hermione had large green eyes before this.

“NO! STOP!” Harry flailed his way back to consciousness, struggling against the ropes binding his arms to his sides.

“Harry!”

So this is death. Floating forever. No pain, no worry, no homework!

“Harry! It’s time come back!”

No! Out there are Voldemort, and Umbridge, and Snape! In here, it’s quiet, and peaceful. Just leave me alone!

“Harry!”

Harry opened his eyes wearily. Surprisingly, he felt no pain. In the infirmary again! That wry thought brought a quick smile to his lips. He started to sit, then fell back, as a jackhammer slammed into his skull. “Ohhhh!”

“Just lay quietly, Harry” Professor Dumbledore’s even tones reassured Harry, even as they raised questions. Harry struggled to a sitting position, ignoring the pounding in his head. He could see Ron and Hermione in two of the nearby beds, both still unconscious. Dumbledore sat in his customary chair, watching Harry, with a subdued expression of pride.

“Once again, I seem to owe you an explanation, Harry. I’m sorry to awaken you early, and shall have to answer to Madam Pomfrey later, I’m afraid. But it is necessary, and I wanted to talk to you before the others awoke. Tell, me please, what happened to you today, or rather, yesterday, since it is the middle of the night.”

Harry looked at Dumbledore for a minute while he gathered his thoughts into a semblance of order, then related Saturday’s events, starting with Dobby’s strange tale before dawn, and ending with the brief fight with Dolores Umbridge. He skipped the set to with Draco and Snape; with the other things that had happened, it seemed rather trivial. Dumbledore watched him closely as he related his tale, but never spoke, until Harry finished.

“Thank you Harry.” The Headmaster steepled his fingers and raised them to his chin.
“I appreciate your candor, both in what you have told me, and in what you have not told me.”

For the first time, Harry noticed Dumbledore’s pensieve sitting on the table next to the professor, and blushed. “Again, I must apologize, Harry, this time for borrowing your memories while you were unconscious. I had to know the extent of the evil I found in the forest, and it was locked in the minds of you three students. While I appreciate your discretion in what you told me, and the selective nature of your revelations, I must take some action with regards to Mr. Malfoy. His brief taste of power last year seems to have gone quite to his head. I shall have to discuss the matter with Professor Snape.”

“Now, I’m certain you have some questions for me.” Dumbledore looked expectantly at Harry, who suddenly felt as if he were being examined.

“Si,! Professor Umbridge, did you catch her?” Harry’s voice sounded like a dry croak, the question forced out.

“There was nothing to catch, Harry. When Professor McGonagall and I arrived, she was lying on the ground, not too far from you three, quite firmly bound. Miss Granger has a very effective Impediment Jinx.

“You do realize that she is quite mad, Harry.” Harry nodded, not quite convinced she was finally gone.

“Dolores Umbridge was consumed by ambition,” Dumbledore continued. “Her employment at the Ministry of Magic gave her access to the Department of Mysteries. Because she was so obvious in her ambitions, and so mediocre in her abilities, no one suspected her when items disappeared from various storerooms. She applied several times to become an Unspeakable, but her application was always rejected, largely because of her lack of ability, but in no small part because of her belief in thaumaturgy.

“Often magical happenings are concealed from the non-magical world by their belief in miracles. We encourage that belief, but Dolores became a believer herself. After last year, when she left pursued by Peeves, she brooded, and eventually determined her return to power lay in using items she had stolen from the ministry.

“Knowing that Voldemort had returned, she knew it was possible to restore a spirit to a body, and decided to make the attempt with Salazar Slytherin. However, she lacked both Tom Riddle’s long years of study, and his ability. She was doomed to failure, regardless of how hard she tried, for had she succeeded, Salazar would have had no further use for her.”

“He’s gone, then, and the castle…”

Dumbledore interrupted Harry with a wave of his hand. “The castle is back to normal, the bathroom functions properly, and the paintings are in their proper places. The erosion of the castle magic was due to the influence of Salazar’s presence out of his time and place. When he was laid back to rest, everything stabilized.”

“And Helga Hufflepuff?” Harry asked

“She’ll be so pleased you recognized her!” Professor Dumbledore beamed, standing. “Now, Harry, I must go. I still have many loose ends to tie up, and I must thank Dobby for fetching me. Perhaps someday we’ll sit down and talk more of this, but for now, rest.”

As the Professor walked out, Harry looked at his two friends lying on their beds. Closing his eyes, he relaxed, savoring the comfort of their nearness. After about five minutes, he dozed off, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.