Chapter 17 : September 4, 1983
| ||Rating: 15+||Chapter Reviews: 1|
Background: Font color:
Sitting down next to McGonagall and looking around, she said, "Hey, where's Filch? I thought he'd be in the corner looking for food fights."
In all honesty, Jasmine didn't really care, she just wanted to be able to plan how to sabotage him for setting his cat on her. The phantom thing was for Mrs. Norris, she had yet to begin on Filch.
"Haven't you heard?" McGonagall asked. "Apparently, his cat died last night and he's in mourning as she wanders the castle as a 'cat ghost'."
"Oh, she's not dead per say."
McGonagall turned her head sharply. "What?!"
Jasmine could tell without looking that McGonagall's mouth was thinning rapidly. She had felt this angry, glaring stare before.
"I turned her into a phantom when she wouldn't get lost, but I wouldn't call her 'dead'."
"Albus, are you hearing this?!"
"Yes, I am. And while, Miss Black, the majority of the school would find this rather, uh, amusing, Mr. Filch does not think so. You will change Mrs. Norris back to her natural state."
"Well where is she? I need to say the spell at her for it to work right. I mean, you can't exactly use a summoning charm on a, for lack of better term, dead cat."
"You said she wasn't dead!" McGonagall hissed at her.
"Well, she's not, but she's still a ghost."
"Miss Black, you will look out for Mrs. Norris and put her back to her usual form when you find her. If Professor McGonagall or myself finds her first, we will keep her in one place and you will come set her right."
"Yes, Professor, but wouldn't it be easier if I just gave you the spell?"
"Are you trying to get out of this?" Dumbledore asked with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.
"Then no, I'm afraid not."
It didn't take long for Jasmine to find Mrs. Norris, thanks to the immobile Marauders' Map. One she caught up with her, she found Filch sobbing hysterically and trying to pet his cat. He looked up as he realized Jasmine was there.
Filch's expression turned to angry. "You! It was you! You killed my cat! I'll kill you! You've killed her!"
"Oh, sober up! I didn't kill her, I just turned her into a ghost."
"She's dead! Mrs. Norris is dead because of you! It's your fault! I'll kill you for this! You're no better than you were at school! No better than your murdering cousin who got himself landed in Azkaban!"
Filch said all of this extremely fast, but Jasmine heard every word, and he had hit a nerve. Jasmine had always enjoyed watching Filch spaz out, but now, she was anything but amused.
In a quiet, deadly voice, she snarled, "Take that back."
Filch seemed to know he hit that nerve. "No! You killed my cat just like he killed those people!"
Filch was thrown against the wall.
Furiously, Jasmine whipped out her wand and pointed it at the now cowering Filch. "SECTU-- no."
She came to her senses and lowered her wand, then swung it back up. With a flash off light, Filch was hanging upside-down in midair.
"HELP!" he yelled.
"Shut UP!" Jasmine gave her wand a jab and sound ceased to come out of Filch's open mouth.
"There. Now...," Jasmine waved her wand at the cat, and Mrs. Norris became fur once more. Another fash of light and jab of the wand, and Mrs. Norris was upside-down and silent as her master.
Jasmine huffed in a satisfied manner before turning on her and walking away.
She went back to her old Head Quarters and stood behind the podium, her hands on either side of it and her head bowed. Jasmine looked up, as if to address the chairs, her eyes filled with the sorrow that had felt so normal. She reached into the bowl and pulled out the five slips of paper residing in it. Finding the one labeled 'Marauder Wormtail' and ripped it in half. Instantly, his chair and stool, the ones closest to the door, vanished, but his name stayed on the map because, after all, had helped make it... a little.
The other stools and chairs re-centered themselves.
"Should have done that a long time ago," Jasmine said to the empty room as she placed the other four slips of parchment back.
Jasmine smiled to herself as she recollected memories of the room. Whenever there was a Marauder Meeting, she would pick a name out of the bowl that decided who directed the meeting, unless it was an Emergency Meeting, then whoever called it directed it.
She went over ad sat in her chair, like she had at school - her back in the right corner was her legs and feet hanging over the left armrest. Jasmine waved a hand and a roaring fire appeared in the fireplace and filled the room with warmth.
Jasmine helped herself to a Cauldron Cake, not yet stale, and a butterbeer from the everlasting stock before going through some of the old files the Marauders wrote, and then headed off to the Great Hall for dinner.
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories
With Good In...
The Boy Who ...