The next morning, Vizette and Luna returned from the greenhouse to find the Ravenclaw common room buzzing with activity. Every book on the reading list had been snapped up, and students sprawled across the lounge, poring over thick, dusty tomes. They read aloud in clusters, turning the space into an impromptu book club. Many had carried their breakfasts from the Great Hall, munching while listening—a clever way to feed both body and mind.
The readers rotated seamlessly; when one grew parched, another stepped in without missing a beat. It wasn't just Ravenclaw abuzz—Hogwarts itself hummed with talk of the previous night's chaos. As Vizette eavesdropped, he realized the chatter extended beyond the Chamber of Secrets to Mrs. Norris's dire state.
The cat lay petrified in the hospital wing, rigid as stone on her bed. Vizette took this as a good sign—she was alive, or Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have kept her there. Dumbledore's summons might tie into this mess, too.
The library overflowed with eager borrowers, all clamoring for Hogwarts: A History. Madam Pince's voice cracked from overuse, but she pressed on hoarsely: "Come back in a week." As queues lengthened, her pleas grew desperate: "Two weeks! You can't have it now!"
...
Filch, the epicenter of the drama, hadn't slept a wink. Dawn found him haunting the corridor, eyes ringed with shadows, pacing by the blood-red scrawl. He lunged at passing students like a specter, snarling accusations of murder. Denials only fueled him; he'd nitpick rosy cheeks or dark robes as "evidence."
Students tiptoed past the puddle, dodging his wrath like a curse. But Colin Creevey, Polaroid camera swinging from his neck, wasn't so lucky. Dodging Filch's grab, he slipped in the muck, teetering toward a splashdown.
"Colin, over here!" Vizette flicked his wand, yanking him safely to his side with a gentle Levitation Charm.
The sudden tug startled Filch. Spotting Vizette's wand, he deflated, slumping against the wall and shuffling aside with pursed lips.
Vizette approached. "Mr. Filch, have you seen Mrs. Norris?"
He shook his head, tears carving tracks through the grime on his cheeks. "Can't face it... Her lyin' there like that... Breaks my heart."
"You could help her recover," Vizette said softly. "Massage her joints, keep her company."
Filch's eyes lit up with fragile hope. "Y-You think that'll work?"
"It'll give her comfort," he replied. "I've heard she's under a dark curse—petrified, like a statue. Some articles suggest treatments for that."
"What treatments?" he demanded, leaning in.
"Family support," Vizette explained. "Talk to her like always. If Madam Pomfrey objects to the noise, just stroke her fur the way she likes. It might ease her through this."
"I'll do it!" Filch bobbed his head, spinning in place before orienting himself. "Hospital wing's this way... Forgot for a second. Thank you, miss! Thank you!"
Colin stared at Vizette in awe, voice quivering. "You're brilliant! You actually got through to Filch!"
Vizette shrugged. "Mrs. Norris is family to him. The shock just left him lost."
Colin scampered off, grinning like he'd unlocked a secret. Vizette sidled closer to the wall, scrutinizing the message: "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware."
"Feels boastful," Luna murmured from a safe distance. "Like a prickly thing hiding in a hedgehog... Swarming with Wrackspurts."
"Definitely a taunt," Vizette agreed, wand raised to probe the residue without touching. "Malice drips from it—advanced dark magic. Even Scourgify won't shift it."
He frowned. "We'd need a countercurse, something protective like a Patronus Charm, to purge the malice."
Ancient Magic: Finite Incantatem! would do the trick perfectly. Transfiguration could work too—shapeshifting the words away. Outside of ancient spells, it was his strongest suit.
"A thorough assessment," Professor McGonagall's voice cut in crisply. "But I'd advise hurrying along, or breakfast will make you late for class."
"Can't miss Transfiguration!" Vizette nodded, dipping a quick bow. "Good day, Professor."
As they hurried off, McGonagall watched with a faint smile, approval in her eyes. "If Filch tends to that cat, at least the students can breathe easier."
---
After lunch, en route to the hospital wing, Vizette crossed paths with the Grey Lady, Ravenclaw's elusive house ghost. Unlike Nearly Headless Nick's jovial chatter, she glided with cool detachment, silver chains clinking faintly.
The Grey Lady rarely lingered among students, even her own house. She answered queries with clipped precision before vanishing into the ether. Spotting her was rare—better to lurk in the common room or hope for serendipity.
As a longstanding Hogwarts specter, she might hold clues to the Chamber. Vizette bowed. "Good afternoon, Grey Lady."
The ghost paused, translucent gaze settling on her. "I remember you, Vizette Lovegood. You helped secure the House Cup last year."
…
100 Powerstones = 1 Bonus Chapter Tomorrow!
Help us reach the goal!
Too slow? We upload 10 Chapters/Day on P@treon!
The book is likely Already Finished there. Don't wait for daily updates—read the complete story + R-18 scenes right now!
[email protected]/Ren Saga
—