Afternoon.

Saturday, Sept. 14

So far, Minerva McGonagall’s weekend was proving to be irritating, and it had, of course, started with Mr. Potter and Miss Granger vanishing for the whole of Thursday night and half of Friday.

It was no secret in Hogwarts that the two first-year Gryffindors (who, in her opinion, were much too precocious for any pair of eleven-year-olds to be) were practically joined at the hip. Anyone who bothered to look in their direction was likely to find them either holding hands, sharing a look, a smile, a hug, or gazing into each other’s eyes in that way that made Minerva uncomfortable the one time she witnessed it.

Honestly, if they were any older, N.E.W.T years maybe, there would likely already be a betting pool among the teachers for how soon after Hogwarts the two would tie the knot. Because of their ages however, most of the adults in the castle found themselves in this awkward position where, they were all thinking it, and they all knew they were thinking it, but nobody wanted to be the one who said it.

That was a big part of what had made Friday morning so frustrating.

Aurora Sinistra had mentioned to Minerva during breakfast that Friday morning that Harry and Hermione hadn’t been at her class the night before.

More importantly, she also said that when she’d asked the Gryffindors present why those two were absent, they’d said they didn’t know, because both had been missing since before dinner the previous day.

It was obvious what Aurora and half the faculty table—including Minerva herself—were thinking right then, but naturally, they all pretended they weren’t.

Filius even hemmed and hawed about how strange it was, because “Miss Granger doesn’t seem the sort to miss a class.”

Minerva agreed, Miss Granger certainly wasn’t the type to skip a class. Unfortunately, Miss Granger was also an almost twelve-year-old girl, and contrary to what the students thought, Minerva was that age once and very much remembered what it was like to be that age.

For her own first crush, she’d been barely eleven (just started at Hogwarts), and she had been utterly smitten with the Head Boy at the time, Silas Willows. Coming back for her second year to find him gone had been heartbreaking.

Minerva understood how much young girls like to feel grown-up, how intensely they can feel, and how much a bright-eyed boy like Harry can scramble their minds. She understood it all too well.

Not that Minerva thought that the eleven-year-olds had for sure been... you know, but it was still a possibility that was realer than she would have preferred.

Of course, the teachers had made an effort to look for the children, mostly by leaving word with some prefects and such, but no one really expected anything to come from that. Hogwarts was a huge castle, students went ‘missing’ in it all the time, especially when they didn’t have anywhere they needed to be.

As expected, the two had shown up at lunch, and the only reason Minerva had even considered believing their story about practicing The Stunning Spell was because of how... normal they’d been.

Neither had acted off or strange in any way. In fact, if she hadn’t known beforehand that they’d been together all night long, she wouldn’t have looked at them twice.

So, true or not, Minerva had decided to accept their story, and (grudgingly) dropped her plans for punishment.

Thankfully, the rest of the day had been quiet enough, but Minerva’s budding hope that the weekend would be peaceful was shattered when someone broadcasted a rooster’s crow across the castle on Saturday morning.

A rooster that they stole from Hagrid she might add.

What she would do when she found the students responsible, the older witch thought to herself. They would never forget it.

Unfortunately, for her to mete out the appropriate punishment, the students would first need to be found, and that was starting to look like a pipedream.

The simple truth was that there was no way to know who did it, or even where they did it. Not without lining up all of the students and questioning them under veritaserum anyway. And, unfortunately, that was still illegal.

Minerva sighed and stared at the third-year papers she was supposed to be grading. She really wasn’t in the right state of mind for this.

Maybe some fresh air would help clear her head, the aging professor decided, before walking out to the little balcony attached to her office.

Minerva’s office was on the sixth floor of the west tower of Hogwarts.

Being this high up, the balcony gave her a wide view of the castle grounds, covering everything from parts of The Forbidden Forest to the quidditch pitch, and she often came out here on days like today when she needed to clear her head.

As it often did whenever she came out here, her gaze immediately went to the quidditch pitch, where she could see the far-off shapes of some students practicing drills on brooms.

Those were the Gryffindors, she knew. The new captain, Wood, had booked the pitch for the whole day, both to hold the tryouts and to begin training the new seeker, whomever they may be.

Minerva hoped it was someone good; Charlie Weasley had left some big shoes to fill.

For several minutes, Minerva watched her lions practice; long enough that her building irritation from dwelling on recent events had effectively evaporated.

The witch was just beginning to consider returning to her work when she noticed something.

Now, Minerva had always had good eyesight, ever since she was a child (and contrary to what many thought, it had everything to do with good genes and nothing to do with her animagus form), and that was the only reason why she noticed a certain ghost wailing and terrifying students in a second floor hallway in an entirely different wing of the castle from hers.

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On another day, when Minerva wasn’t still on edge from the tasteless prank of that morning, she might have ignored the scene, or, at the very least, gone back into her office and taken the long way around through the castle.

This was not such a day.

With a few flicks of her wand, the witch conjured a solid, stone staircase bridging her balcony with the large windows of the hallway. Windows whose glass turned to wisps of fading mist as the irate professor approached.

Maybe it was the suddenly transfigured glass that made the growing crowd of students notice her, or perhaps just the no-nonsense aura she carried, but they quickly parted, giving her room to walk through.

“Myrtle!” The professor shouted sternly at the ghost who, even now was still wailing: “They’re dead! It killed them! They’re dead!”

Minerva’s voice caught the dead girl’s attention, and the ghost turned to look at her.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said.

“What is the meaning of all this, Myrtle?” The witch questioned tersely.

The ghost smiled, it was a happy little smile that did not match the words that left her mouth next. “Oh, it’s Harry and his little girlfriend. They’re dead, you see. A giant snake killed them.”

Minerva looked at the translucent girl floating before her with growing rage.

For the fifty-odd years Myrtle Warren had haunted Hogwarts, she had made no secret of how much she envied, and maybe even hated, the living students within its walls.

This though, was going too far.

Seeing the expression on the professor’s face, the ghost harrumphed and folded her arms. “Don’t believe me, do you? Okay then, go in and see for yourself,” she said, gesturing at the bathroom that was her usual haunt.

Before Minerva could make a decision one way or the other, a student, an older Hufflepuff girl, stepped out from that very bathroom and saw her.

The girl looked taken aback by Minerva’s presence for a moment before she shook it off and said: “Professor, there’s some kind of pipe in here. It looks like it leads underground.”

Minerva blinked. What?

Rushing into the bathroom, Minerva saw that it was true; hidden behind the sinks and mirror, which had all shifted to one side, was a huge pipe that descended deep down.

Her heart squeezed in her chest as, behind her, Myrtle giggled.

“Told you,” the ghost said.

*****

Minerva froze for exactly four seconds, then the witch who had survived two wizarding wars kicked in, and she did something that she hadn’t done since the spring of 1981 when You-Know-Who was at his most powerful.

“Albus. Albus. Albus,” she said.

It took six seconds. Each one felt like a minute.

A bright, white light flashed before the witch, and as she blinked away the spots it caused in her vision, Albus Dumbledore stood there in baby pink robes blinking at her in surprise, confusion, and a little wariness.

All were warranted. What she’d just done was something they both understood was for the greatest emergencies only.

“Albus, I fear Harry and Hermione may be in danger,” Minerva said, and Albus’ gaze immediately sharpened.

“They went down there,” Minerva continued, pointing at the pipe which Albus had appeared directly in front of so hadn’t seen.

Apparently unable to keep her mouth shut, Myrtle added: “A giant snake killed them.”

Albus’ gaze snapped to the girl and then his face paled.

“Fawkes!” The old wizard called, and his phoenix instantly materialized in an explosion of red and gold flames.

“Find them! Hurry!” Albus commanded, and the firebird quickly zipped down the tube.

Holding his wand up to his throat, The Headmaster spoke, and his voice rang throughout the castle almost as powerfully as the cock’s crow had that morning.

“All students, return to your dormitories this instant. There is potentially a very dangerous magical creature loose in the castle. Know that anyone who willfully disobeys this instruction may very well die a terrible death. Prefects and faculty, please see that no one is left behind.”

Minerva was still puzzling over what she thought may be an overreaction, when Albus turned to the wide-eyed Hufflepuff girl who Minerva had forgotten was still in the bathroom with them.

“Miss Watson, you should return to your dormitory, now,” Albus said gently. “Thank you for your help.”

The girl looked surprised to be addressed, and looked like she would really rather stay and see what would happen next, but finally, she acquiesced and nodded.

“Um, okay, sir. I’ll be going now.”

Before the girl could turn however, Fawkes burst out of the pipe, carrying a blood-soaked Harry with one taloned foot and a barely clothed Hermione in his other.

Both children were unconscious, and when the phoenix set them down, they looked dead.

Minerva’s heart jumped into her throat, while Myrtle, who had been quiet all this time, suddenly wailed very loudly and flew down a toilet with an explosive splash.

The room’s occupants barely paid the odd ghost a second of attention before focusing back on the first-years.

“Are they alive?” The Headmaster asked Fawkes, kneeling next to the children, and the bird nodded. “The snake?” The old wizard asked next, and this time the bird shook his head.

Albus rose and cast his Patronus.

“Poppy, I fear Harry Potter and Miss Granger might be in dire need of your services,” the wizard said, voice strained but still maintaining some measure of calm. “Please, prepare to receive them.”

Message complete, the Patronus flew off.

“Fawkes, please get me Filius and Severus,” Albus said, and after the phoenix disappeared in its customary swirl of flames, he turned to look at the Hufflepuff who was standing still watching the Gryffindors on the floor. “Miss Watson. To your dormitory. The rest of you too.”

The girl nodded jerkily, then turned and fled, along with the several students who, instead of obeying The Headmaster’s earlier announcement, had gathered at the door of the bathroom looking in.

Rapid flapping from the pipe caught the two professor’s attention, and both already had their wands pointed at the object before they saw what it was.

It was Harry’s owl.

The bird had a bloody, obviously broken wing that it was somehow forcing itself to fly with, albeit unsteadily.

It landed between the unconscious children, then reached out to press its face into Harry’s neck, before turning and doing the same to Hermione.

Done, the owl folded it’s wings as neatly as it was able and stood guard, ignoring both adults.

Fawkes returned, perched atop the shoulder of the Potions professor.

As quick as the phoenix appeared, he was gone again, no doubt to pick up his other charge.

The potions master took in the room and its occupants quickly, but his eyes stilled on the form of the children.

“Minerva, please take Harry and Miss Granger to our matron, if you would,” Albus said. “Tell her they’ve both very likely been infected with basilisk venom, but have received phoenix tears.”

The words basilisk venom caused Minerva’s heart to still in her chest, but the witch didn’t hesitate, and in the next moment she had both children floating behind her as she hurried away.

She did not notice Severus behind her looking like a man whose heart had died; she barely even noticed Harry’s owl follow.

*****

Two hours later, with Mr. Potter and Miss Granger safe and asleep in the nurse’s office, all of the students locked up tight in their dormitories, and Albus confident that there were no more basilisks, the Hogwarts staff congregated in the staffroom at The Headmaster’s behest.

Albus explained everything as he understood it.

Apparently, the Chamber of Secrets was real, and Salazar Slytherin, madman that he was, had left a basilisk in the school.

It would also appear that Mr. Potter and Miss Granger had somehow learnt of the snake, and instead of alerting the staff as they should have, they’d decided to kill it themselves.

Of all the stupid, reckless things she’d ever heard, this easily took the biscuit.

Those two had better pray they never woke up, because if they did Minerva would have them in detention for so long that their children would need to finish it.

The worst part was, she knew that this hadn’t just been an unfortunate accident. They hadn’t just come across the snake by chance; if that was the case then they wouldn’t have had a rooster with them. A rooster that, interestingly enough, was the only member of the group who got off without any injuries.

A rooster that was the same one that had been stolen from Hagrid; meaning that these same Gryffindors were also the ones responsible for what everyone had assumed was a nasty prank this morning.

Oh, they had better hope they never wake up.

While Minerva fumed, and some teachers stared slack jawed at what two first-years had managed right under everyone’s noses, a certain professor trembled as his Lord raged within him.

This would not go unanswered.