On the other side of the castle, Harry sprinted up to the second floor, racing through the entire corridor as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny followed, panting heavily. Rounding a corner, they found Harry frozen in an empty passageway, his eyes darting around in confusion.
"What's going on, Harry?" Ron gasped, catching his breath, his gaze flickering nervously down the hall. "Hiss!" He sucked in a sharp breath. Hermione and Ginny, trailing behind, stopped beside him, their faces etched with shock.
If you looked closely, you could see two distinct kinds of horror in their expressions.
"This can't be!" Ginny cried out, her voice breaking.
When Hodge Blackthorn arrived, he caught her exclamation. A faint wisp of black mist curled from his pocket, slithering up his sleeve and coalescing behind him into a shadowy, menacing form—a vague, snarling head. Hodge stepped to the side, raising his wand, and this time, he saw it clearly.
It was Moaning Myrtle. But she was no longer milky-white and translucent, nor did she carry the faint bluish tinge she had in daylight. Instead, she was pitch-black, wreathed in swirling smoke, hovering silently in the air. Her thick glasses were askew, her face frozen in terror, and her long hair floated behind her with an eerie weightlessness—as if she'd been dodging something when the attack struck.
"Look over there!" Hermione suddenly pointed at the wall.
Hodge had already noticed. Two lines of text were scrawled across the wall, barely visible in the dim light, faintly illuminated by distant torchlight. As they approached, Hermione lit her wand, revealing the words:
The Chamber has been opened.
Enemies of the Heir, beware.
Hodge snapped open his pocket watch, noting the time. The black mist vanished back into his sleeve. Despite her shock, Ginny couldn't help but glance at him sidelong. Was that some kind of dark magic?
"We'd better get out of here," Ron said uneasily.
"But shouldn't we try to save her—" Harry began, only to be cut off by Hodge. "No time." They heard a sudden clamor of footsteps, like rolling thunder—the feast had ended, and students were dispersing. Harry caught the faint sound of Lockhart's voice. The footsteps reached the second floor, and the students at the front spotted them—Hermione's arm was still raised stiffly, her wand's light casting Myrtle's terrified face into stark relief.
The crowd fell silent, pressing forward to see what was happening. Hodge could feel a wave of panic ripple through them, spreading faster than wildfire as whispers raced down the stairs.
In the deathly quiet, a voice rang out.
"Enemies of the Heir, beware! The next one's you, Mudblood—" It was Draco Malfoy. He'd pushed his way to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes glinting, his pale cheeks flushed red. Halfway through his taunt, he caught sight of Hodge's back and swallowed the rest of his words. But everyone knew what he'd meant to say. Not long ago, he and Ron had clashed fiercely over that very word on the Quidditch pitch.
"What's happened here?" Filch shoved his way through the crowd to the front.
A space cleared around Harry, allowing Filch to spot Myrtle's rigid, blackened form. He froze for a second, then glanced at Harry and the others, his bulbous nose twitching with excitement. "Aha! Caught you! Murdering a school ghost! You lot are all—"
His gaze swept over Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, his jowls quivering as if he were deciding who to pin the blame on. Then, like Malfoy, he saw Hodge, and his expression faltered.
"You lot… all of you…" Filch stammered.
Hodge ignored the commotion behind him. He ran his fingers over the writing on the wall, leaning in to inspect it closely. It wasn't blood or paint—it seemed to be some kind of pigment. He couldn't quite place it yet.
At that moment, Dumbledore arrived, followed by a gaggle of professors. Hagrid's flushed face, reddened from drink, loomed in the distance, and Lockhart's voice carried from near his elbow.
"Make way, make way—I'm here to handle this," Lockhart declared.
Dumbledore strode past Harry and the others, glancing at the writing on the wall. His blue eyes, framed by half-moon spectacles, studied Myrtle carefully. He drew his wand and tapped her gently, sending a ripple-like shimmer across her form.
"We'd best move elsewhere," Dumbledore said. Lockhart, ever eager, chimed in, "My office is the closest, Headmaster—just upstairs—you can—"
"Thank you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore cut him off smoothly.
"Severus, and you lot—" he addressed Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Hodge—"come with me."
"Professor Dumbledore?" Hodge spoke up. "It might be wise to bring one more person, though I'm not certain… Lottie Turner."
A flicker of surprise crossed Dumbledore's face.
Snape, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, opened his mouth to comment, but Hagrid's booming voice cut through, shouting down the stairs, "Lottie? Lottie Turner!" Snape promptly shut his mouth.
The crowd waited in tense silence. Hodge caught Percy's voice echoing in the distance, relaying the message. Within a minute, a first-year student hurried over, and the crowd parted to let her through.
"I-I heard… someone was calling," she said, breathless.
Dumbledore's eyes flicked to a streak of colorful paint on her sleeve, and he nodded to Hodge. Hodge beckoned her closer. Lottie, clearly unaccustomed to being the center of so much attention, looked nervous.
"I've seen you before," Hodge said. "You were painting on this floor, in front of a golden frame…"
"You mean Calvin?" Lottie asked.
"Well, I don't know his name, but I know he's waiting for a woman named Julia—"
"That's him!" Lottie said excitedly. "Here's the thing," Hodge continued, lifting Hermione's arm so her wand's light illuminated the writing more clearly. "This paint on the wall… I could be wrong, but it feels similar to the kind you use."
Lottie stepped forward to inspect it, casting a curious glance at Myrtle as she passed—her eyes held no fear, only curiosity. She likely hadn't grasped the situation, nor was she well-versed in the ways of the wizarding world. She studied the letters on the wall closely.
"It's my paint," she said with certainty after a moment.
A murmur rippled through the students.
"One more question," Hodge said. "Just now, were you in the Great Hall the whole time?"
Lottie nodded, bewildered.
A Hufflepuff girl in the crowd spoke up loudly. "She was with me all afternoon! We sat together at the feast, too."
"In that case," Hodge said, addressing Dumbledore and the crowd, "twenty minutes ago, Myrtle was still fine. Peeves can vouch for that." He fell silent.
Dumbledore gave a slight nod.
"Then Miss Turner should assist with the investigation as well," he said, turning to Professor McGonagall. "Minerva, please summon Madam Pomfrey. I'll need her expertise."
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