The rest of September passed remarkably quickly for Harry who woke up every morning half-expecting to hear news of an attack in the night. Hopefully petrifaction, but you never knew. Just because the possessed Ginny never managed to kill anyone didn't mean that the possessed Wormtail wouldn't. As October progressed, it looked like the first attack could very well be on Halloween again. Perhaps it wasn't a coincidence that Mrs. Norris was petrified on Halloween the first time – it was thematic.
One day, about a week before Halloween, Harry was held up after breakfast by a rather concerned Percy Weasley. Not that he minded, of course; Hermione had been yelling at him ever since the Owl Post arrived for ordering notebook paper and actual pens. Apparently she expected him to humor the people who couldn't be bothered to use paper from a tree to write on when they could just use the skin of calves, sheep, or goats instead and who insisted on writing with bloody feathers. Seriously, between their office supplies and their classes, Harry was beginning to think that the entire Wizarding World just really hated animals.
Or maybe Hermione was mad that he intended to sell some of his stock to Muggleborns and Halfbloods who also preferred to live in the twentieth century and not the middle ages. He might have also mentioned something about starting up a Hogwarts chapter of PETA. But honestly, the girl was totally overreacting. He thought she'd be pleased he was getting involved in his community given her later activities with SPEW, but noooooooooooo…And then there was that letter she got from her parents saying that half of her neighborhood was apparently planning on dressing up in official 'Harry Potter' costumes that he forgot to mention he authorized. Or maybe it was because he-
"Harry, have you seen this?" Percy demanded, holding up that day's issue of the Daily Prophet and effectively bringing an end to Harry's musings on why Hermione was upset with him.
"Nope," Harry said cheerfully. "I only read the Quibbler. I recently signed up to be their spokesperson, after all."
"I see," Percy said, rather taken aback. He quickly rallied, though. "There is an article in here about how you-"
"Donated brooms to three of the houses and the Malfoy's donated to the last house?" Harry asked.
Percy nodded.
"Made the front page?" Another nod. "About damn time. I insisted that it be on the front page, but I didn't think it would take this long. They must've actually had some real news to report for once. Tell me the truth: Did the story do me justice?" Harry asked, looking curiously at Percy.
"I…I guess so," Percy replied. "But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. They included the price of each broom and I did the math and you spent WAY too much money on this. I know your parents were wealthy, Harry, you only have to provide for yourself, and you'll have free lodging until you graduate, but it's still not a good idea to burn through all of your money by then."
"Relax, Percy," Harry told him patronizingly. "I've got that all taken care of."
"Befriend a leprechaun colony?"
Harry laughed. "No, sadly leprechaun gold dies after a few hours."
"Dies?" Percy arched an eyebrow at him.
"Well, the official story is 'missing'," Harry admitted. "But we all know what that means. And like I said, I've got my finances taken care of. That Daily Prophet story? Quality photos of the Boy-Who-Lived apparently go for 50 galleons right now. Colin Creevey takes the pictures so he gets most of it, but I still get twenty percent. I get a percentage of the sales for the Quibbler and let me tell you, subscription has really taken off so it's a good thing I decided to get involved when I did. Also, I've authorized Harry Potter action figures and plushies, trademarked my name, and am currently working on developing my own clothing line. It's nothing fancy, just robes with a lightning bolt on it, but it's receiving positive feedback so far. Not to MENTION how much I've been getting through autographed picture sales and fan club dues…"
Percy just stared at him.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked after a full five minutes of Percy just standing there.
"I-yes, I'm fine," Percy said finally, shaking his head. "May I ask why you're doing this?"
"So I have money to burn," Harry said simply. "Besides, if people are willing to buy anything that has my name attached to it, I might as well merchandize, right? Or at least that's what Professor Lockhart said."
"I'm starting to think that you spend way too much time with that man," Percy said bluntly.
"Maybe you're right," Harry said sadly, his shoulders hunched. "I just got so excited thinking of all the ways I could help people. I guess I'll have to tell Madame Pince that I won't be making that 5,000 galleon donation after all…"
"On the other hand," Percy said hastily. "As long as you frequently consult a seasoned professional like Professor Lockhart, I'm sure your money will be fine."
Harry smirked as he watched the older boy hurry away.
----
"This is bloody ridiculous," Harry complained as he followed Luna, Lockhart, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Filch up to Lockhart's office.
Luna just smiled serenely, no doubt composing an article on the events in her head.
All Harry had wanted to do was enjoy the Halloween feast with his friends like a…well, not like a NORMAL person, it was a bit late for that, but like the other students. But no, he wasn't a normal person: he was on the Quidditch team. He had tracked mud all over the Great Hall when he was coming back from practice, got yelled at by Filch for making more work for him, vanished the mud, got yelled at by Filch again for showing off, and had gotten cornered by Nearly Headless Nick and invited to his Death's Day party.
Harry, who had had a miserable time at Nick's little ghost gathering, was about to decline when Luna came out of nowhere and asked if she could come, too. Nick had, of course, agreed and so Harry was morally obligated to go to prevent Luna from deciding that she'd rather be a ghost than a girl or something else that could get her killed.
Then, right when Harry had finally managed to convince Luna to at least head down to the feast for a little bit, she heard the Basilisk in the walls. Luna wasn't a Parselmouth, by any means, but apparently had bat-ears because she claimed that she heard hissing coming from the walls and insisted on checking it out. Unable to talk her out of it, Harry followed. And came across Mrs. Norris, petrified again, right before the other students passed by on their return to their common rooms. Consequentially, Filch had accused the two of them of killing his cat and they were on their way to defend themselves.
Harry was so busy oscillating between feeling sorry for himself and feeling annoyed that despite his best intentions, he was at the heart of the Chamber of Secrets investigation AGAIN that he didn't pay any attention to the proceedings until Dumbledore informed Filch that his cat wasn't dead.
"Not dead?" choked Filch. "But why's she all – all stiff and frozen."
"Because she's been Petrified," Harry explained before Dumbledore could.
"Is that a confession?" Filch demanded angrily.
"Of course not," Harry said, offended. "I just recognized the symptoms."
"And since when were you such an expert on Petrifaction?" Snape sneered.
"Since about halfway through the summer when my scar told me that the Chamber of Secrets would be opened by an unregistered rat Animagus who is believed to be dead who is being possessed by an evil diary and that in the Chamber of Secrets there is a Basilisk and looking at the Basilisk would petrify a bunch of students. And Mrs. Norris," Harry added as an afterthought.
"Basilisks don't petrify people," Snape corrected him gleefully. "They kill people. Everyone knows that. Your, *ahem* SCAR clearly hasn't put much thought into this."
"Au contraire, it's put quite a bit. While it agrees that staring directly into a basilisk's big, yellow eyes will kill you, Mrs. Norris only saw the reflection after Moaning Myrtle flooded the bathroom," Harry said, smiling brightly at him.
Snape pounced on that, of course. "How would you know what Basilisk eyes look like? No one has ever seen them and lived to tell the tale."
"I'm not quite sure how the fact that I'm alive implicates me in Mrs. Norris's attack, but I know because I asked Myrtle."
"And how would Myrtle know?" McGonagall asked before Snape could say something that everyone else would regret.
"She was killed when the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago," Luna spoke up for the first time. "We were interviewing all of the ghosts at Sir Nicholas's party and they were all so very eager to tell us how they died. I think it's a bit like old people and their grandchildren, really."
"You weren't at the Feast because you were attending a party for ghosts?" Snape asked incredulously. "They don't serve anything that hasn't been rotten for at least two weeks."
"That's why we stole some sandwiches from the kitchen," Harry replied.
Snape actually grinned. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for going to the kitchens, stealing Hogwarts food, and bothering the House Elves."
"He doesn't bother them," Luna disagreed. "They like him. In fact, they adopted him last week."
"Adopted?" Lockhart asked blankly, the other teachers sharing his confusion for once.
"Oh yes. They've decided that he's an honorary House Elf based on his stories of how his relatives treat him and I must say, I am very jealous." She paused, considering. "Well, about the becoming an honorary House Elf, not the getting treated like one by my only family in the world."
"I see," McGonagall said, trying to regain her equilibrium. "Miss Lovegood, since you went to the kitchens as well-"
"Oh, it was all my fault Professor," Harry said earnestly, hoping to keep her out of trouble with her housemates who she reported still thought she was odd but weren't harassing her this time around. "I talked her into it. I'm a horrible influence."
"I knew it!" Snape exclaimed. "That's ten more points from Gryffindor, Potter."
"Severus!" McGonagall protested. "That's hardly-"
"Oh, it's very fair Professor," Harry defended his sole ally among the staff. Well, in his point-losing crusade, anyway. "I really should know better. Luna's only a first year."
"And you're only a second," McGonagall pointed out.
"There is no such thing as a good influence, Mr. Potter," Luna assured him. "All influence is immoral because to influence a person is to give him one's own soul."
"The Picture of Dorian Gray!" Harry exclaimed delightedly. "This is why you're my fourth closest friend. I quote things all the time, but no one ever recognizes it except Hermione and she always chides me for being 'childish.'"
"Wrackspurts," Luna diagnosed.
"They're a pandemic," Harry agreed.
"POTTER!" Snape shouted. When Harry finally deigned to look at him, he continued, "Enough about your mythological creatures and your obscure Muggle literature! Tell me why you weren't at the Feast."
Harry stared at Snape. "We already did, Professor. We went to Nick's Death Day Party. We have a ton of witnesses. Of course, they're all dead, but you would be a living-ist, would you?"
Despite the fact that Snape almost certainly knew it was a bad idea, he had to ask, "Living-ist?"
"Someone who judges someone based on whether they are alive or dead," Luna answered promptly.
"The Quibbler has been trying to bring people's attentions to these little-known prejudices, but clearly you don't subscribe," Harry elaborated.
Snape's lip curled. "Indeed. And why didn't you go to the Feast after the party?"
"Oh, the party's still going on. We were actually headed to the Feast when we happened across Mrs. Norris," Harry said.
"And why didn't you come down until after the Feast ended?" Snape thought he had them there, but the pair actually had a very simple reason for that and it didn't even involve any illicit activities.
"There were a lot of ghosts," Luna explained. "Sir Nicholas invited one for every year he'd been dead and we wanted to interview all of them."
"If you were on your way to join the Feast, then why were you in that upstairs corridor?" Snape asked logically.
"Why were the students returning from the Feast up there if that corridor is nowhere near the Great Hall?" Harry shot back.
"We were up there because I heard the walls hissing and I wanted to investigate," Luna said tranquilly.
Harry groaned. He'd actually understood what the Basilisk was saying, but wasn't planning on bringing the fact that they had heard ANYTHING up. As Ron had pointed out after the original accusation, it was better to keep the fact that he could hear the Basilisk quiet. Although come to think of it, Ron was actually talking about Harry hearing voices and probably thought he was crazy. Ah well, it was the thought that counted.
Dumbledore looked startled. "You're a Parselmouth, Ms. Lovegood?"
"Oh no," Luna shook her head. "I didn't understand what the wall was saying, I just heard hissing."
"That totally lends credence to my scar's Basilisk theory, just so you know," Harry couldn't resist adding.
"Doesn't anyone care about my cat?" complained Filch.
Biting his tongue to refrain from answering in the negative, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of Mandrake Potion and held it out for Filch to take.
"What's this?" he asked suspiciously as he took the vial. "Some kind of poison?"
"No, no," Harry assured him. "I wouldn't do that. Not in front of all these witnesses, at any rate." Somehow, that did not seem to calm Filch. Strange. "It's Mandrake Potion. It can revive Mrs. Norris."
"And you just happen to be carrying this around with you?" Snape demanded. "Headmaster, clearly Potter knows more than he's letting on."
"Of course I don't just happen to carry some around. But I have had three vials on me since the moment I stepped foot in Hogwarts this year. And I confessed that I knew that at some point a Basilisk was going to be set loose on the school and you think I'm hiding something? Really?" Harry asked.
"Harry makes some good points," Lockhart was quick to side with his marketing prodigy. "And since he's clearly not responsible for this, no permanent harm was done, and Mrs. Norris will be immediately revived, why don't we let these two get back to their Common Rooms?"
"An excellent idea-" Dumbledore began.
"HE KNOWS I'M A SQUIB!" Filch burst out, interrupting the Headmaster.
Everyone looked at Harry.
"Well, okay, that one's true, but considering that I already mentioned that I'm against discriminating against people who happen to be dead, it's highly unlikely that I have a problem with people who happen to not have magic," Harry said reasonably.
"That's an admirable attitude," Dumbledore said, pleased once again by Harry's blatant refusal to accept the ingrained prejudices of Wizarding Society. "Very well, off to bed, you two."
"Do you want to just get dinner in the kitchens since the feast is over?" Harry asked as he and Luna left Lockhart's office.
"That sounds like a good plan," Luna agreed. "And I want to see the House Elves working on those chocolate pumpkins. Why are you having actual pumpkin-sized chocolate replicas delivered to everyone in the castle in the middle of the night tonight?"
"Because this summer when I was talking about the Great Pumpkin, Cedric told me that he didn't believe in it and we made a bet about whether or not I would be able to prove its existence to him," Harry explained.
"That sounds an awful lot like fraud, Harry," Luna told him.
"It's not fraud, we're just the Great Pumpkins helpers," Harry contradicted. "Just like Santa has the elves."
"And now the Great Pumpkin has the House Elves," Luna mused.
"And me, the Honorary Elf," Harry said smugly.
Luna glared playfully at him. "Isn't the Great Pumpkin from Peanuts?"
"Do you honestly think Cedric has ever heard of Charlie Brown?"
"I suppose not," Luna conceded. "A good thing, too, because I heard that the only way to really summon the Great Pumpkin is through a satanic ritual."
Harry stopped and looked at her. "Luna," he said slowly. "What have I told you about fact-checking?"
"Never ever do it unless your godfather has been thrown into Azkaban without a trial?" Luna guessed.
"Exactly."
After Harry walked Luna to her Common Room – and thanked God once again that he wasn't a Ravenclaw as he never could figure out the riddle and that would make him the third-year Neville of Ravenclaw – he headed immediately for the Owlery. He knew he shouldn't risk getting caught out tonight of all nights and he hadn't thought to take his invisibility cloak with him to the party (a mistake, to be sure), but this was important. He had to talk to Sirius now that Pettigrew was on the move and he needed to do it soon.
He quickly scrawled out, 'We need to talk. PP has made his appearance. Name the time and place.'
"Hedwig," he whispered and after a moment, his large snowy owl flew to him. "Give this to Sirius, okay? Make sure he's alone and don't leave without a response."
As Harry watched Hedwig fly off, he realized that things were about to get complicated. Oh joy.