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HP Chapter 29: Petrified
🕑 Added 2025-08-08 15:00:09 +0000 UTCAnne ran as fast as she could to the infirmary to fetch Madam Pomfrey and led her straight to Professor Lockhart’s office, which was easy to recognize, his smiling face beamed from a poster right on the door.
When they arrived, Dumbledore was bent over, examining Mrs. Norris, who lay silently on a polished table. The trio sat stiffly in chairs in the corner, eyes immediately locking onto Anne as she entered. Snape lingered in the shadows, his expression cold and unreadable. Professor McGonagall stood by the fireplace, gently consoling a distraught Filch who was hunched over a desk, weeping. All around the room, enchanted portraits of Lockhart moved cheerfully, as if oblivious to the tension.
“Oh, Madam Pomfrey, please take a look at this poor cat…” Dumbledore stepped aside.
Thinking her job was done, Anne instinctively took a step back, ready to leave. But Dumbledore’s gaze, sharp beneath his half-moon glasses, shifted toward her.
“Miss Reeve,” he said gently, “I’d like you to stay. We may have a few questions for you.”
Anne’s heart skipped a beat. Her thoughts raced. What did he find out? How much does he know? Did something I did recently raise suspicion?
She kept her expression calm, though her eyes flickered with faint confusion as she looked back at Dumbledore. He, however, had already returned his attention to the cat. Neither Professor McGonagall nor Snape objected to his decision.
Lockhart chimed in with his usual dramatic flair. “Surely there’s no need to keep a second-year student here! I imagine she’s terribly shaken and ought to be sent back to rest... I personally think Mrs. Norris is simply, ”
“She’s not dead,” Madam Pomfrey said firmly, straightening up and visibly relieved. “She’s been petrified.”
Lockhart immediately jumped in, “Yes! Petrified! I thought so too, of course…”
Filch’s wailing softened into sniffles.
The word “petrified” struck Anne. Her mind flew back to the lesson where she’d used a basic Petrification Charm. Could that be it? No, that’s impossible. Her magic was weak, she could barely freeze a house-elf for a few seconds. Upper-year students know the spell too. No… this must be the work of that serpent in the Chamber. But why is Dumbledore keeping me here?
Dumbledore quickly answered her unspoken question. “Miss Reeve, do you happen to know when Professor Sprout’s mandrakes will reach maturity?”
Anne relaxed. So that was it. She thought for a moment before replying, “Likely by the end of next term, around May, Headmaster.”
“I see…” Dumbledore looked back at the cat thoughtfully. “But who did this? This is no prank.”
“Ask him!” Filch suddenly shrieked, face blotchy with tears as he jabbed a trembling finger at Harry.
“A second-year student couldn’t possibly do this,” Dumbledore said firmly. “It would require advanced Dark Magic.”
Anne stayed still, wondering if she should leave. Come on, Headmaster. Say something. I don’t want to be involved in whatever this is. Especially if it has anything to do with that snake. She glanced at Snape, hoping for a signal, but he ignored her, eyes fixed on the cat. McGonagall was focused entirely on the trio.
“He did it! I know it!” Filch shouted again, his flabby face turning purple. “He saw the note in my office! He knows I’m a—a Squib!”
“I didn’t even touch Mrs. Norris!” Harry protested loudly, anxiety written all over his face. “And I don’t even know what a Squib is!”
“Liar!” Filch roared. “He saw the letter, my quick-spell correspondence course!”
“Allow me to say something, Headmaster,” came Snape’s voice from the shadows. “Perhaps Mr. Potter and his friends were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Still, some questions remain. Why were they even in that corridor? Why didn’t they attend the Halloween feast?”
The trio launched into a rushed explanation, they’d gone to Nearly Headless Nick’s deathday party. “There were hundreds of ghosts who can confirm we were there, ”
“Then why not come to the feast afterward?” Snape asked, eyes glinting in the candlelight. “Why the upper corridor?”
Anne, Ron, and Hermione all turned to Harry.
“Because… because…” Harry stammered. “We were tired and wanted to go to bed early.”
“No dinner?” Snape’s tone was silky. “Ghost food doesn’t strike me as very filling for the living.”
“We weren’t hungry,” Ron added hastily, though his stomach betrayed him with a loud grumble.
Snape’s thin-lipped smile widened. “My suggestion, Headmaster, is that Mr. Potter isn’t being entirely truthful. Perhaps he should lose a few privileges until he decides to be more forthcoming. Personally, I think suspending him from the Gryffindor Quidditch team might help him reflect.”
“Honestly, Severus,” McGonagall snapped, “there’s no reason to believe he’s done anything wrong. The cat wasn’t hit by a broomstick, and there’s no evidence pointing to Potter.”
Dumbledore gave Harry a searching look. “Until proven guilty, he is innocent, Severus.”
Snape looked thoroughly displeased.
“So my cat’s just petrified?” Filch howled, eyes bulging. “I want to see someone punished!”
“We will restore her, Argus,” Dumbledore said calmly. “Professor Sprout’s mandrakes will be ready next term. With them, we can brew a restorative draught.”
Dumbledore glanced at Anne and the trio. “That’s enough for tonight. You may return to your dormitories.”
Anne wasted no time leaving Lockhart’s office, but once on the stairs, she slowed. Her stomach hurt, it had started earlier but worsened after the rush.
“Shouldn’t have eaten so much…” she muttered.
The trio spotted her walking slowly and assumed she’d waited for them. Ron caught up with a grin. “Anne! You’re the best. Let’s find an empty classroom, we’ve got to talk!”
“What about?”
“Mrs. Norris, of course! Harry noticed something weird, and we need your help to figure it out!” Ron replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Anne blinked, trying to keep up. “Weren’t you all too tired to stay up? And if something strange happened, why not tell Dumbledore?”
“Snape was there!” Harry blurted. “He wouldn’t have believed me…”
“This one!” Hermione whispered, opening a classroom door and pulling Anne in. Ron and Harry slipped in behind her and closed it quietly.
“Actually,” Hermione began, “Harry heard a voice. That’s why we were there.”
Harry nodded. “After the deathday party, we were heading back to the feast when I heard this voice. I couldn’t make out what it said, but I followed it, and then we found Mrs. Norris.”
“There was a puddle,” Ron added. “I nearly slipped. On the wall, it said: The Chamber has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.”
“I…” Anne started to speak.
But Harry rushed to say more. “I know it sounds crazy, Anne, but it’s true. I didn’t hurt Filch’s cat, and I had no idea what a Squib was… What is a Squib?”
Hermione answered quickly, “A Squib is someone born to a wizarding family but who can’t use magic. It’s the opposite of a Muggle-born. They’re quite rare, I read it in Magical Theory for Beginners.”
Anne took the opening. “Can I speak now?”
All three turned to look at her. The room fell silent.
“I believe you, Harry.” Harry visibly relaxed. “But I don’t know why this happened, or what the Chamber really is. I don’t have any answers right now. What I do know is that you all should get back to your dorms before Snape catches you again. That’d be much worse.”
“Right…” Harry sighed, clearly hoping for more. Ron mumbled, “So what is in that Chamber?”
Hermione didn’t push the issue. As they exited the classroom, she muttered, “The Chamber… I feel like I’ve read about it somewhere…”
Back in the Slytherin common room, Anne was greeted by Fanny, Pansy, and several other students still awake, including Malfoy and his cronies, loitering in a corner.
“Anne, what happened?” Fanny asked at once. “You were gone so long!”
“Did Filch’s cat really die?” Pansy added.
Anne gave them a simple summary, leaving out anything that would stir gossip and downplaying her own involvement. She focused instead on Filch’s outburst and Snape’s interrogation.
For the next few days, talk of Mrs. Norris’s attack dominated every conversation. Fanny was so curious that she kept dragging Anne to the library, claiming she wanted to figure out what the Chamber of Secrets really was.
Anne, meanwhile, spent more time in the greenhouses. After the incident, Professor Sprout doubled her efforts with the mandrakes, though the rest of the plants got a little less attention.
On Tuesday, they had History of Magic with Gryffindor again. As usual, Fanny had to drag Anne into the dull classroom. Most of the students were already dozing off.
Half an hour into Professor Binns’s monotone lecture, something extraordinary happened, Hermione raised her hand.
Fanny shook Anne awake. “Anne, wake up!”
“Why, ” Anne groaned, rubbing her eyes, only to see Hermione’s hand raised high, unmistakable in the dim room. A jolt of alertness snapped her awake. What on earth is Hermione about to ask in History of Magic?
Everyone stared at Hermione.
Professor Binns looked startled. “You are?”
“Hermione Granger, sir. Could you tell us what you know about the Chamber of Secrets?”
“This is a History of Magic class, Miss Granger. I deal with facts, not myths or legends.” He cleared his throat and continued, “That October, a special task force was assembled by the warlocks of, ”
He trailed off. Hermione’s hand was up again, waving eagerly.
“Miss Granger?”
“Well, sir, aren’t most legends based on some truth?”
Binns stared at her like he’d never looked at a student properly before. “I suppose you could say that. But this story is particularly sensational, borderline absurd.”
Still, everyone leaned in closer to hear.
“Oh, very well,” he said slowly. “Let’s see… The Chamber of Secrets… You all know Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago, though the exact date is uncertain, by four of the greatest witches and wizards of the age: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin.”
He paused, surveying the class with vague eyes. “At first, the founders worked together harmoniously, gathering magical children from far and wide. But eventually, differences arose. Slytherin wanted to admit only students from pure-blood families, believing Muggle-borns were untrustworthy. Eventually, he argued with Gryffindor and left the school.”
“That’s what the records tell us,” he continued. “However, legend has it that Slytherin built a secret chamber within the castle, unknown to the other founders.”
“According to the story, he sealed the chamber so only his true heir could open it, unleashing a horror within to cleanse the school of those he deemed unworthy to study magic.”
The class was dead silent, but not with sleep. Everyone was tense, riveted.
“Of course,” Binns said sharply, “this is all nonsense. The school has been searched many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. There’s no such Chamber. Just a tale to frighten the gullible.”
Hermione raised her hand again. “Professor, you said something terrifying was inside. What exactly is it?”
“Some believe it’s a monster that only Slytherin’s heir can control.”
Nervous glances were exchanged.
“I repeat, there is no monster. No Chamber. It’s all fiction.”
“But sir,” said Seamus Finnigan, “if only Slytherin’s heir can open it, maybe that’s why no one else has found it?”
“Nonsense,” Binns snapped. “Generations of headmasters, ”
“Maybe it takes Dark Magic to open it!” another student said.
“Dark Magic can be detected!” Binns barked. “And if someone like Dumbledore can’t, ”
“Maybe it has to be someone related to Slytherin!” Dean Thomas suggested.
“That’s enough!” Binns cut him off. “This is mythology, not history. I regret even bringing it up! Let’s return to facts, real, proven facts!”
Within five minutes, the class had once again slipped into a sleepy haze.
