The Tenth Weasley - CH - 56

Harry wasn’t surprised when Madam Pince informed him that his Restricted Section access had been revoked.

Dumbledore.

Harry had seen the signs—the extra attention, the subtle questions, the knowing looks. The old man was watching him.

And Harry didn’t like being watched.

But that didn’t mean he would stop.

If anything, this only made him more determined.

With his library access gone, Harry had only one option—

Sneak in.

He had done it before during his first year, back when he only had his invisibility cloak.

But this time, he had more tools at his disposal.

The Thief’s Downfall Lantern he bought from Knockturn Alley was perfect for sneaking. It gave off light only to the person carrying it, leaving everything else in complete darkness.

And he had also grown better at moving without a sound, thanks to all the practice sneaking around Hogwarts’ hidden passages.

Harry waited until past midnight, when everyone was asleep.

Blaise and Daphne didn’t try to stop him—they knew he was too stubborn. They just made him promise to be careful.

With his invisibility cloak wrapped around him and his lantern in hand, he slipped out of his private dormitory.

The dungeons were easy—he knew the patrol patterns of Prefects by heart.

The only real challenge was Filch and his horrible cat, Mrs. Norris.

But luckily, Harry had been experimenting with small warding charms, and he cast a minor aversion charm near the library doors, just enough to make Mrs. Norris uninterested in the area.

The Restricted Section was dark and silent, as always.

Madam Pince kept a few spells in place, but Harry had prepared for them.

He had stolen a feather-light charm from one of the books in the Common Library and used it on his feet—no creaking floorboards.

Then, using a basic unlocking charm, he eased the lock open, careful not to trigger any alarms.

The moment he stepped inside, a familiar chill ran down his spine.

The books here were different.

They didn’t just hold knowledge—they hummed with power.

Harry moved quickly.

He had already picked out a few books he wanted to continue reading:

Blood & Bones: Ritual Magic of the Ancient Druids

Warding the Unwardable – A book on counter-wards and breaking protective spells.

The Shadow Within – A book that explored the nature of dark magic and its relationship to intent.

Harry had done this before.

Sneak into the Restricted Section. Get the books. Leave without a trace.

Tonight should have been no different.

Except—

It was.

Harry moved swiftly, his bag now filled with books on ritual magic, dark wards, and alchemy.

The library doors loomed ahead.

One more step—

Then he could slip into the shadows and return to his dorm undetected.

But just as he stepped out of the library—

A lantern flickered to life.

"Well, well, well—what do we have here?"

Harry’s heart dropped.

Filch.

And, of course—

Mrs. Norris.

The squib caretaker stared at him with a triumphant grin, his yellowed teeth visible in the dim glow of his lantern.

Harry quickly adjusted his face, forcing himself to look as innocent as possible.

"Mr. Weasley, out for a little nighttime stroll, are we?" Filch sneered.

Harry gripped his bag tighter.

The books inside were forbidden. If Filch checked them—

He was in deep trouble.

Harry knew how Filch operated.

The old caretaker loved catching students but didn’t have much authority to actually punish them.

That was left to the professors.

And Filch hated that.

Which meant—

If Harry played this right, he might be able to wiggle out of this mess.

"I was just taking a walk," Harry said smoothly. "Couldn't sleep."

Filch snorted.

"A likely story," he said, eyeing Harry’s bag suspiciously. "And what’s in the bag, eh? Books from the Restricted Section?"

Harry forced himself to chuckle.

"You think I could get into the Restricted Section?" he said. "Please, I don’t even have permission."

Harry lowered his voice, giving Filch a conspiratorial look.

"Look," he said, "we both know Dumbledore’s got eyes everywhere. You think he’d let me sneak into the Restricted Section? He already took away my permission slip!"

Filch paused, considering.

Dumbledore was the type to watch certain students closely.

And Harry knew Filch despised Dumbledore.

"Tch. The old man should let me deal with rule-breakers properly," Filch muttered.

Harry seized the moment.

"Exactly!" he said quickly. "If I was sneaking around, I’d be a lot more careful, don’t you think?"

Harry sat stiffly in the cramped, foul-smelling office, his mind racing.

Filch had left to fetch Snape, leaving Harry alone—with a goldmine.

The office reeked of damp parchment, burnt quills, and the unmistakable stench of old cat fur.

Stacks of confiscated items were piled haphazardly around the cramped space, some neatly stored on rickety shelves, others tossed carelessly into overflowing boxes.

The sheer number of banned magical artifacts and contraband items hidden here was astounding.

Harry’s eyes gleamed.

Filch was paranoid.

Harry had heard Fred and George talk about this office before—how Filch hoarded anything even remotely magical that he caught students with.

Most of it was junk, but some…

Some might be worthwhile.

Harry didn’t waste time.

He stood up silently and started searching.

He brushed past a cobweb-covered bookshelf, his fingers trailing over dusty old detention records—

("James Potter, Sirius Black—detention, 1977")

Harry rolled his eyes and moved on.

There was a box labeled ‘Confiscated Wands’, filled with cheap wooden sticks, most of them likely fake prank wands from Zonko’s.

Next, he found a drawer labeled ‘Banned Joke Items’.

Curious, he popped it open—

Inside were a handful of fireworks and some muggle items like stink bombs and fake spiders.

Harry chuckled.

Fred and George would love to raid this place.

Then—

Something unusual caught his eye.

In the back corner, hidden beneath a pile of detention forms, was a small, locked chest.

It hummed with faint, dormant magic.

Harry knelt down, running his fingers over the iron clasp.

There were faint carvings—almost like runes.

This… was not a joke item.

Harry’s heartbeat quickened.

What had Filch confiscated?

He glanced at the door.

Still no sign of Filch or Snape.

He needed to be quick.

Harry pulled out his wand and whispered—

“Alohomora.”

The lock clicked.

Harry lifted the lid, and inside—

A black leather-bound book, its cover worn, its pages edged with something dark— burnt or… stained?

His stomach twisted.

He had seen books like this before.

Dark magic.

Harry flipped it open—

But before he could read further—

The door creaked.

Filch was coming back.

Harry snapped the book shut, shoved it under his robes, and hurriedly sat back down—

Just as Filch stomped inside, Snape looming behind him.

Filch looked smug, like he had caught a criminal in the act.

"Caught this one sneaking around, Professor," Filch said gleefully. "Out of bed, up to no good."

Snape’s cold black eyes bored into Harry’s.

Harry stayed silent, his face carefully blank.

Under his robes, the dark book pressed against his chest.

There was one thing Harry liked about Professor Snape—

He rarely took points from Slytherin.

But he had a far worse punishment:

Detention.

So when Snape found him sneaking out of the library that night, he didn't shout, didn't lose his temper, didn't take points.

Instead—

"Ten days of detention, Weasley," Snape said coolly. "Two hours after classes. And bring a toothbrush."

Harry’s stomach sank.

A toothbrush?

For ten straight evenings, Harry spent two hours hunched over the grimy stone floors of the potions classroom—

Scrubbing cauldron stains and wiping spilled ingredients with nothing but a toothbrush.

No magic allowed.

His fingernails turned black, his arms ached, and the smell of spoiled potion ingredients clung to his robes.

Snape, as usual, stood hovering in the background, sneering whenever Harry scrubbed too slowly.

"Pathetic. A troll could do better."

Harry gritted his teeth and kept going.

The worst part?

No time to look through the dark magic book he stole from Filch’s office.

By the time he was released, he was too exhausted to do anything but collapse into bed.

But when his detentions finally ended, he wasted no time.

Back in his private dormitory, Harry locked the door, placed protective charms around the room, and finally—

Opened the book.

The leather cover was rough under his fingers, and the edges of the pages looked burnt, as if someone had tried to destroy it.

Inside—

Rituals.

Dark, gruesome rituals.

The book detailed the most forbidden and grisly magic Harry had ever seen.

Sacrifices.
Blood magic.
Spells that required bones, flesh, and even souls.

One page described a ritual for immortality—
Involving a human heart.

Another explained a curse so vile that it could bind a soul in eternal suffering.

Harry swallowed hard.

This wasn't just dark magic…

This was monstrous.

His hands trembled as he turned the pages.

The knowledge inside the book was dangerous, and he knew it.

Yet—

He couldn't stop reading.

Because deep down—

He wanted to know more.

Harry knew one thing for certain—

Dumbledore was watching him.

Ever since his involvement with Quirrell and the Philosopher’s Stone, the Headmaster kept a close eye on him.

And if Dumbledore ever found Harry with the dark ritual book, there would be no mercy.

Straight expulsion.
Future ruined.
Wand snapped in half.

Everything gone.

Harry couldn't afford to keep the book.

But he couldn’t afford to lose it either.

So, every night, under the glow of Thief’s Downfall, he studied.

Every spell.
Every ritual.
Every forbidden piece of knowledge.

And when he was sure he had memorized everything—
When he could recall every detail effortlessly—

He sealed it deep inside his Occlumency shields.

Layer after layer of mental defenses, ensuring that no one, not even Dumbledore, could see what he had learned.

Now, Harry had a new problem—

Where to hide it?

He couldn't destroy it.
The knowledge was too valuable.

And he couldn’t let it fall into the wrong hands.

If someone power-hungry—
If someone reckless—
If someone like Draco Malfoy ever found it…

It would be catastrophic.

So, he needed a place no one would ever find it.

Somewhere hidden, somewhere forgotten.

For the next few days, Harry searched every hidden passageway and unused classroom in Hogwarts.

The dungeons were too accessible.
The library was too obvious.
The Slytherin common room was too risky.

And then—

He remembered something.

The Room of Requirement.

Fred and George had once joked about it—
A room that appears only when someone truly needs it.

Most believed it was just a myth—

But Harry had seen too much to doubt magic now.

So, one night, under his invisibility cloak, he paced the corridor on the seventh floor three times, focusing on what he needed:

"I need a place to hide something. A place no one will ever find."

And then—

A door appeared.

A door that wasn’t there before.

Harry took a deep breath—

And stepped inside.

Inside was a massive room, filled with junk and forgotten treasures.

Old furniture.
Dusty bookshelves.
Piles of broken artifacts.

A graveyard of discarded Hogwarts history.

Harry walked deeper into the room, carefully weaving through the clutter.

And then—

He found a small, locked cabinet tucked between a shattered mirror and an ancient suit of armor.

With a whispered unlocking spell, the cabinet creaked open, revealing an empty compartment.

Harry placed the book inside.

Safe. Hidden. Forgotten.

For now.

Harry had been reading in his private room when a commotion in the Slytherin common room pulled him out of his thoughts.

The murmurs and whispers of students filled the air, and the moment he stepped out, Daphne was already by his side.

"Something happened," she whispered, her voice unusually serious.

Blaise joined them, looking equally intrigued. "Come on, we need to see this for ourselves."

By the time they arrived at the main hallway, a crowd of students had gathered, standing in shocked silence.

Harry pushed through the group, and the sight before him made his breath catch.

Glowing words were painted across the stone wall in dripping red letters—

"THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE."

And beneath it—

Mrs. Norris.

The caretaker’s cat was hanging upside down, her body stiff and lifeless.

The entire corridor was filled with whispers and fearful glances.

Even the professors looked unsettled.

Dumbledore was examining the writing, his expression unreadable.

Filch was on his knees, howling, his face red with rage.

"You!" he suddenly screeched, pointing at Harry.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

Filch’s face contorted in anger and grief. "You did this! You killed my cat!"

Before Harry could respond, Snape intervened.

"That is enough, Argus," he said in his usual cold voice.

Filch turned toward Snape, his eyes wild with grief. "It has to be him!"

The whispers grew louder.

Harry could feel the eyes of students shifting toward him.

Before things could spiral, Dumbledore raised his hand, and the murmurs ceased.

"This cat is not dead," Dumbledore announced. "She has been petrified."

Relief flickered through the crowd—but the fear remained.

"Who could have done this?" A Gryffindor asked.

All eyes turned back to the message on the wall.

"The Chamber of Secrets…" Daphne muttered beside him. "Could it be real?"