Slytherin Raised by Wolfstar: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

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Chapter Ten: The Writing on the Wall

‘What’s going on here? What’s going on?’

Most likely from hearing Malfoy’s shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

‘My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs Norris?’ he shrieked.

And his popping eyes fell on Harry and Allison.

‘You!’ he screeched, ‘You! You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her! I’ll kill you both! I’ll–’

‘Argus!’

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In a matter of seconds, he had swept past Harry, and his friends, and detached Mrs Norris from the torch bracket.

‘Come with me, Argus,’ he said to Filch calmly but seriously. ‘You too, Mr Potter, Mr Nott, Miss Runcorn, and Miss Davis.’

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

‘My office is nearest, Headmaster-just upstairs–please feel free–’

‘Thank you, Gilderoy,’ said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape.

As they entered Lockhart’s darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back to watch the drama unfold. Dumbledore laid Mrs Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry, and friends exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching. Allison sank most of all as she was still recovering from the retching she had done.

The tip of Dumbledore’s long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs Norris’s fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: it was as though he was trying hard not to smile. And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making in Harry’s opinion rather dim-witted suggestions.

‘It was definitely a curse that killed her–probably the Transmogrifian Torture. I’ve seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn’t there, I know the very counter-curse that would have saved her...’

Lockhart’s comments were punctuated by Filch’s dry, racking sobs. He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs Norris, his face in his hands. As much as he detested Filch, Harry couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for his situation, though not nearly as sorry as he felt for himself. If Dumbledore believed Filch, he and Allison, perhaps Tracey and Theodore too, would be expelled for sure.

Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs Norris with his wand, but nothing happened: she continued to look as though she had been recently taxidermized.

‘...I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadougou,’ said Lockhart, ‘a series of attacks, the full story’s in my autobiography. I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets which cleared the matter up at once...’

The photographs of Lockhart on the walls were all nodding in agreement as he talked. As the minutes ticked on Harry was getting less and less hopeful that this would have a positive outcome for him and his friends.

At last Dumbledore straightened up.

‘She’s not dead, Argus,’ he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented. Harry breathed a sigh of relief himself.

‘Not dead?’ choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs Norris. ‘But why’s she all–all stiff and frozen?’

‘She has been Petrified,’ said Dumbledore (‘Ah! I thought so!’ said Lockhart). ‘But how, I cannot say...’

‘Ask them!’ shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tear-stained face to Harry and Allison.

‘No second-year could have done this,’ said Dumbledore firmly. ‘It would take Dark magic of the

most advanced –’

‘They did it, they did it!’ Filch spat, his blotchy face purpling. ‘You saw what they wrote on the wall! They found–in my office–they knows I’m a–I’m a–’ Filch’s face twisted up horribly. ‘They know I’m a Squib!’ he finished.

‘I never touched Mrs Norris!’ Harry said loudly, uncomfortably aware of everyone looking at him, including all the Lockharts on the walls. ‘Allison didn’t either, she was overwhelmingly nauseated at the time. That and we didn’t know the letter meant you were a Squib, I just thought you were bad at magic.’

‘Rubbish!’ snarled Filch. ‘He saw my Kwikspell letter!’

‘If I might speak, Headmaster,’ said Snape from the shadows, and Harry’s sense of foreboding increased; he was sure nothing Snape had to say was going to do him any good.

‘Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time,’ he said, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it, ‘but we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why were they in the upstairs corridor at all? Why weren’t they at the Hallowe’en feast or down in their common rooms?’

Harry, Tracey, Theodore, and especially Allison all launched into an explanation about the Deathday Party, ‘...several ghosts saw us, the ones from the castle that saw us were Myrtle, Sir Nick, and Peeves the poltergeist, they will all tell you we were their almost all evening–’ Allison said, sounding like a detective from those muggle things called movies.

‘But why not join the feast afterwards?’ said Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. ‘Why go up to that corridor?’

All three looked at Harry, they knew only Harry knew why they were in that corridor.

‘Because–because–’ Harry said, his heart thumping very fast; something told him it would sound very far-fetched if he told them he had been led there by a bodiless voice no one but he could hear, ‘because we had insulted Myrtle and wanted to try and apologize, but when we got to her floor I thought I heard a ruckus and my curiosity got the better of me,’ he said.

‘Why not do this after supper? Myrtle wasn’t going anywhere’ said Snape, a triumphant smile flickering across his gaunt face. ‘I didn’t think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties, you must have been starving.’

‘We were hungry before we arrived at the party, but the food you mentioned turned our stomachs pretty quick,’ said Allison, who was starting to get quite annoyed.

Snape’s nasty smile widened.

‘I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful,’ he said. ‘It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Slytherin Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest, I know a student who can replace him.’

‘Really, Severus,’ said Professor McGonagall sharply, ‘I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. I agree they are hiding something, but I don’t think it is that they are guilty. They were found with no blood on their hand or wands out, so if we ask the ghosts what time they all left I have a feeling we’ll find that there was no way they could get upstairs, petrify Mrs Norris, paint the message, and clean up before the rest of the students arrived. There is no evidence at all that Potter or his friends have done anything wrong.’

Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light blue gaze made Harry feel as though he was being X-rayed.

‘Innocent until proven guilty, Severus,’ he said firmly.

Snape looked furious. So did Filch.

‘My cat has been Petrified!’ he shrieked, his eyes popping. ‘I want to see some punishment!’

‘We will be able to cure her, Argus,’ said Dumbledore patiently. ‘Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made which will revive Mrs Norris.’

‘I’ll make it,’ Lockhart butted in. ‘I must have done it a hundred times, I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep–’

‘Excuse me,’ said Snape icily, ‘but I believe I am the Potions master at this school.’ There was a very awkward pause.

‘You may go,’ Dumbledore said to Harry, Tracey, Allison, and Theodore.

They went, as quickly as they could without actually running. When they were a floor down from Lockhart’s office, they turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind them. Harry squinted at his friends’ darkened faces.

‘D’you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?’

‘Absolutely not,’ said Theodore, without hesitation.

‘Harry until we figure out what it is you heard we can’t tell the teachers, otherwise you’ll look even more suspicious. For now Dumbledore is right, you are innocent because they have no proof otherwise, don’t give them anything that’ll look incriminating.’

Something in her voice made Harry ask, ‘You do believe me, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ said Allison quickly. ‘Theodore mentioned this happened before I don’t think you are making it up. However – from what I’ve learned from my father this situation doesn’t look good for you unless evidence that backs up your story appears. And hearing weird voices no one else can isn’t going to help your case...’

‘I know it sounds weird,’ said Harry. ‘The whole thing’s weird. What was that writing on the wall about? The Chamber has been opened...what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I believe I have heard my father mention it once,’ said Ron slowly. ‘I remember him talking about it when talking about his school days, but I don’t remember what he said about it.’

Tracey finally piped up,‘ And can someone explain to me what a Squib is, I never have heard my mother say that before?’

Knowing Allison or Theodore might say something offensive without meaning too Harry decided to answer Tracey’s question. ‘A Squib is a person who was born into a wizarding family but doesn’t have any magic powers. Most Muggle-born wizards and witches are descendants of Squibs. But I think Filch is trying to do something impossible, no amount of magic courses can teach you something you don’t have. I can’t believe I’m saying this but I feel sorry for him, he’s probably just trying to find a way to keep up with all us magical students.’

‘I don’t,’ said Allison, ‘If he had magic I don’t there would be a student in hogwarts not constantly in detention.’

A clock chimed somewhere.

‘Midnight,’ said Harry. ‘We’d better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else.’

For the following couple of days, the two hundred and eighty students could only seem to talk about the attack on Mrs Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone’s minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. One morning Harry had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with “Mrs Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover” but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone, meaning they probably had some kind of enchantment mixed in with them. In the rare moment Filch wasn’t guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like breathing loudly and looking happy.

A lot of students were also upset by the attack. A first year Ella Wilkins who’s hogwarts pet was a pet kept trying to come up with excuses for her to be with her in class to keep her close, Justin Finch-Fletchley kept randomly hyperventilating, and Hermione Granger was not her eager to please self, often keeping quiet in class and no longer instantly answered questions when asked. The attack really was making everyone a little on edge.

Harry also found that students were starting to act oddly around him. Theodore, one of his closest friends, suddenly started spending almost all of his time either in the library or the owlery. One Monday Snape held him back after Potions class to scrape tubeworms off the desks, and afterwards on his way to the library he saw Justin Finch-Fletchley, coming towards him. However just as Harry had opened his mouth to say hello Justin caught sight of him, turned abruptly and sped off in the opposite direction.

Harry found Tracey and Allison near the back of the library, measuring their History of Magic homework. Professor Binns had asked for a three-foot long composition on "The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards".

‘This is brutal, no matter how many words I add I still come up short, I still need three inches...’ said Tracey very frustrated.

'That's nothing, I have all I can possibly say written down and I am still almost a foot short,' Allison complained, letting go of her parchment, which sprang back into a roll, ‘and some how perfect Theodore is already done with several inches extra. Where does he find the time?’

‘Where is he?’ asked Harry, grabbing the tape measure and unrolling his own homework.

‘I think in the history section,’ said Tracey helpfully, pointing along the shelves, ‘looking for a specific book and failing. He's getting pretty obsessed with whatever it is.’

Harry then told the girls about Justin Finch-Fletchley running away from him.

‘Don't think to much about it Harry, you barely know Justin, he's probably just intimidated by Slytherins he doesn't know,' said Ron, scribbling away, trying to cram as many words in as possible.

Surprisingly Theodore then emerged from between the bookshelves. He looked very irritated, Harry was hesitant to talk to him in fear it would set him off. He didn't have to worry though as Theodore himself started the conversation.

‘It is completely ridiculous, every single copy of "Hogwarts: A History" have all been checked out,’ he said, sitting down next to Harry and Allison. ‘And it will be weeks before one is available as there is now a long waiting list. I sent a letter home asking for my copy to be sent along, but so far no luck.’

‘Why do you want it?’ said Harry.

‘I am guessing it is the same reason other students wants it,’ said Theodore, ‘to learn about the Chamber of Secrets.’

‘The message on the wall? I never heard of any chamber until the attack, what is it?’ said Harry quickly.

‘I don't really know, like I said my father isn't answering my letters, but I had heard him mention it before,’ said Theodore, becoming really frustrated. ‘But I have racked my brain and I think I remember something, he said that in his third year the chamber was opened and that someone was murdered, that is all I recall however.’

Harry wanted to hear more about this, but Allison, struggling with this particular assignment, changed the subject.

‘Hey Theo, can you lend my your paper so I can look over it,’ she asked desperately.

‘What? No, I am not in a position to be caught helping someone cheat,’ said Theodore rather harshly. ‘Besides, you have had over a week to work on it.’

‘Most of that time I’ve been at Quidditch practice, we got an extra week thanks to that lightning storm and so we need to practice extra hard for Saturday’s game. That and I am not asking to copy what you wrote, I just need to know I am going in the right direction.’

There final class for the day was at two o’clock and all four of them made their way to the History of Magic classroom, Allison and Theodore arguing educational ethics the whole way there.

History of Magic was the dullest subject on their timetable. Professor Binns, who taught it, was their only ghost teacher, and the only interesting thing that ever happened in his classes was when he occasionally entered the classroom by emerging through the blackboard. Ancient and shriveled, the popular rumour was that he didn’t know he had died for years. He had simply got up to teach one day and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staff- room fire; his course content and text book requirements had not varied in the slightest since.

Today’s class was just as boring as ever. Professor Binns opened his notes and began to read in a flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class was in a deep stupor, occasionally coming round long enough to copy down a name or date, then falling asleep again. He had been speaking for half an hour and Harry could barely keep his eyes open when he was awoken by a voice other than the long deceased Professor Binns.

‘Professor? I have a Hogwarts history question.’

The voice had come from none other than Justin Finch-Fletchley, who Harry could not believe was taking the risk of interrupting Professor Binns.

But Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of his deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed, not mad.

‘Mr–er–?’

‘Finch-Fletchley, Sir. I thought that you out of any of my teachers may have the answer, what is the history of about the Chamber of Secrets,’ asked Justin in a hesitant voice.

Suddenly everyone was awake and paying attention, Draco nearly hurt his head from the whiplash; Harry’s old friend Susan Bones dropped her quill and was frantically trying to pick it up so she could write down his response, and Theodore was now staring at Binns like what was about to come out of his ghostly mouth was the holy grail.

Professor Binns blinked. ‘My subject is History of Magic,’ he said in his dry, wheezy voice. ‘I deal with facts, Mr Finch-Fletchley, not myths and legends.’ He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk snapping and tried to continue his beyond boring lecture, ‘In September of that year, a sub-committee of Sardinian sorcerers–’

He stuttered to a halt. Theodore has risen his hand to ask a question.

‘Mr Nott?’

‘Please Professor, sir, it isn’t entirely a legend, I heard it was a big deal in the forties, but it also must have been mentioned in Hogwarts history before than?’

Professor Binns was looking at him in such amazement, Harry was sure no student had ever interrupted him before, alive or dead.

‘Well,’ said Professor Binns slowly, ‘yes, one could argue that it has been mentioned in this school’s history many times before, I suppose.’ He peered at the class as though he had never truly noticed they were there before. ‘However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale ...’

But the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns’s every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. Harry could tell he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.

‘Oh, very well,’ he said slowly. ‘Let me see...the Chamber of Secrets...You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago–the precise date is uncertain–by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution.’

He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued, ‘For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school.’

Professor Binns paused again, pursing his lips, looking like a wrinkled old tortoise.

‘Reliable historical sources tell us this much,’ he said, ‘but these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic.’

There was silence in his class as he finished telling the story, but it wasn’t the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns’ classroom. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more. However Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed.

‘The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course,’ he said. ‘Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible.’

But the class wasn’t satisfied with his answer. Justin Finch-Fletchley immediately asked a new question.

‘Sir, what do the legends say the ‘horror within’ the Chamber is exactly?’

‘That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the heir of Slytherin alone can control,’ said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.

The class exchanged nervous looks.

‘I tell you, the Chamber does not exist,’ said Professor Binns, shuffling his notes. ‘There is no Chamber and no monster.’

‘Sir?’ Asked Theodore nervously, ‘there is a flaw in your logic. If only Slytherin’s true heir can open it then there is no way those that searched for it could find it, could they?’

‘Nonsense, Nott,’ said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. ‘If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven’t found the thing–’

‘But, Professor,’ piped up Allison, ‘No headmaster could find it as they would probably need Dark Magic to open it –’

‘Just because a wizard doesn’t use Dark Magic, doesn’t mean he can’t, Miss Runhome,’ snapped Professor Binns. ‘I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore–’

‘But the legend clearly states you must be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore could never–’ began Tracey Davis, but Professor Binns had had enough.

‘That will do,’ he said sharply. ‘It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to history, to solid, believable, verifiable fact!’

And within five minutes, the class had fallen back into a collective near catatonic state.

'Why did it have too be Salazar Slytherin,' Tracey told the others after class as they fought their way through the teeming corridors at the end of the lesson to drop off their bags before dinner. ‘All four founders were medieval witches and wizards, and yet it had to be Salazar who made a death chamber. The other students are going to hate us even more now.'

'Well technically medieval times didn't start for about seventy-five years after Hogwarts was founded, but I understand what you are saying,' Theodore concluded. 'And clearly he did not get his wish as even his house only has a handful of pure-bloods and is mostly half-bloods.'

'Yeah,' said Allison, agreeing with what Theodore just said, 'We all had a choice on what house we wanted to be in.'

Theodore and Tracey nodded in agreement, but Harry didn’t say anything. His stomach had just dropped unpleasantly with the secret he had been hiding from them since his first day the previous year.

Harry had never told his friends that he had begged the Sorting Hat to put him into Gryffindor, because that was the house his whole family was in, as well as his childhood friends the Weasley's, but it wasn't to be. He could remember, as though it was yesterday, the small voice that had spoken in his ear when he’d placed the Hat on his head a year before.

'You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that-yes?' The hat had said.

But Harry, who had grown up hearing of Slytherin house’s reputation for turning out dark wizards, had thought desperately, ‘Not Slytherin!’ but the Hat had made up its mind and said, ‘Better be SLYTHERIN!’

As they were shunted along in the throng, Colin Creevey went past. ‘Hiya, Harry!’

‘Hello, Colin,’ said Harry automatically.

‘Harry–Harry–a boy in my class has been saying you’re–’

But Colin was so small he couldn’t fight against the tide of people bearing him towards the Great Hall; they heard him squeak, ‘See you, Harry!’ and he was gone.

‘Who is that tiny kid and what was he saying to you?’ Theodore questioned.

'That was Colin Creevey, he was the Gryffindor kid who kept wanting to take pictures of me, remember? My guess would be that his friend is spreading a rumour that I am the heir of Slytherin,’ said Harry, his stomach dropping another inch or so, as he suddenly remembered the way Justin Finch-Fletchley had run away from him at lunchtime.

‘Well he is probably wrong,’ said Theodore in disgust. 'The Potter's come from a long line of Gryffindor's, and you mother was the first in her line, it is highly unprobable that you would be Slytherin's heir.'

The crowd thinned and they were able to climb the next staircase without difficulty.

‘Do you really think that there is a Chamber of Secrets Theo?’ Tracey asked.

‘I do, my father is many things but he doesn't tell stories, so what I heard him say must have actually happened,’ he said with a frown. ‘That and Dumbledore, one of the most powerful wizards ever couldn’t cure Mrs Norris and is the only one who didn't dispute the existence of the chamber, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her was much more powerful than a single human.’

As he spoke, Harry finally realised they were no longer heading in the direction of the Dungeons, but of the floor of the attack.

'Theo, where are we going?'

'I saw Filch patrolling downstairs, which means he isn't guarding here. I want a closer look.'

They turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened. They stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message ‘The Chamber has been opened.’ They looked at each other. The corridor was deserted.

‘Can’t hurt to have a poke around,’ said Harry, dropping his bag and getting to his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues.

‘Scorch marks!’ he said. ‘Here–and here –’

‘Now this is strange!’ said Allison. ‘Harry, come look...’

Harry got up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Allison was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack in the glass. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside. Harry beckoned the other two to take a look.

‘This is rather odd behaviour for spiders,’ said Theodore curiously. 'Its November so usually the opposite should be happening.'

They got back to looking around. Harry couldn't really see anything else, but then he realised there was something he wasn't seeing.

‘Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone’s mopped it up.’

‘I remember it being about here,’ said Theodore pointing at a spot on the floor. ‘Just about level with that door.’

He reached for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand and his cheeks flushed a little.

‘What’s the matter?’ said Harry.

‘Mate,’ said Theodore embarrassed, ‘it’s a girls’ toilet.’

‘Oh, Theo, I know where we are now,’ said Allison looking around. ‘That’s Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Harry your lie to get us out of trouble was more believable than we thought.'

'Come on,' said Tracey opening the door, 'It'll only be Myrtle in their. W should have a look around inside.’

And ignoring the large ‘Out of Order’ sign, she opened the door.

It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom Harry had ever set foot in. Under a large, cracked and spotted mirror were a row of chipped, stone sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the cubicles were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.

Tracey whispered for the boys to be quiet and set off towards the end cubicle. When she reached it she said, ‘Good evening, Myrtle, how are you today?’

Harry and Theodore however got curious and went to look. Moaning Myrtle was floating on the cistern of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin.

‘This is a girls’ bathroom,’ she said, eyeing Theodore and Harry suspiciously. ‘They’re not girls.’

‘They aren't,’ Tracey agreed. ‘But they aren't doing anything, they just wanted to admire-er-the retro design of this room.’

She waved vaguely at the dirty old stone sinks and the damp floor.

‘Ask her if she saw anything,’ Harry mouthed at Tracey.

‘What are you whispering?’ said Myrtle, staring at him.

‘Nothing,’ said Harry quickly. ‘We just wanted to ask–’

‘I wish people would stop talking behind my back!’ said Myrtle, in a voice choked with tears. ‘I do have feelings, you know, even if I am dead.’

‘Myrtle, that's not why we are here,’ said Tracey. ‘Were are here to–’

‘Not why you're here! That’s a good one!’ howled Myrtle. ‘My life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along ruining my death!’

‘We wanted to ask if you had seen anything out of the ordinary lately,’ said Allison, breaking her silence, ‘because there was an attack on Hallowe'en just outside your door.’

‘Did you see anyone near here that night?’ said Harry.

‘I wasn’t paying attention,’ said Myrtle dramatically. ‘Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I’m–that I’m–’

‘A ghost,’ said Theodore sarcastically.

Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose up in the air, turned over and dived head first into the toilet, splashing water all over them and vanishing from sight; from the direction of her muffled sobs, she had come to rest somewhere in the U-bend.

Harry and Ron stood with their mouths open, but Tracey looked somewhat satisfied, ‘Honestly, that was the most I ever heard Myrtle talk before breaking down in tears.’

'Let's get out of here, this place makes me uncomfortable.' said Allison, first to the door.

Before the others could make it to the door themselves Allison slammed the door behind her. They were about to shout at her when her reasoning became clear. They heard her in a loud voice say, 'Weasley, what are you doing here?'

'I am a Prefect on patrol, but that bathroom is out of order, what were you doing in their Slytherin?' It was Percy, Ron's older brother and a stickler for the rules. If he finds Harry and Theodore in the restricted girls bathroom right across from where the attack happened they would be expelled for sure.

'I desperately had to pee, this was the only bathroom near by.'

'I heard other voices. Who else is in there with you?'

'Well,' Allison said, trying to hide the panic in her voice, 'Their is Moaning Myrtle, and my friend Tracey who also had to pee.'

Allison then called out them, 'Trace? Are you done washing your hands yet!'

'Yes, I am coming.'

Harry and Theodore quickly hid behind the door as Tracey exited the bathroom. After a moment the door closed once more and he heard Percy ask one more question.

'Why are their four bags here instead of two?'

'Have you never had Mr Binns? We gives so much work. That and Lockhart made us buy eight books. We need two bags each.'

'Very well,' Percy finally said, 'but it is getting late. Have supper and go to your common room.'

The two boys then listened to the sound of two people walking away. Knowing Percy was probably waiting for them to show their faces they waited silently. Over the next twenty minutes they heard several people walking by, including one that sounded like a girl crying, but even once it was again quiet on the other side of the door they did not leave. Finally Allison knocked on the door.

'He is gone. It is safe to leave now.'

The two boys exited and the three of them quickly made their way down stairs.

'That was brilliant quick thinking Allison,' Harry complimented. 'You probably saved me and Theo's necks.'

'You're welcome, just don't put me in that position again. Promise?'

'I'll try my best.'

'Good. Now we brought your bags downstairs and while I went to liberate you Tracey went to collect food before deserts were brought out so we'll be eating in the common room.'

When they reached the Slytherin common room and finished eating they all decided to at least attempt to get some of their homework completed. Allison and Theodore threw themselves into their potions homework that dealt with calculating the correct amount of ingredients for an upcoming assignment based on the amount of wolfsbane in it. Harry and Tracey however were less focused, they were still high off of the rush of adrenaline from their small discoveries and daring escape. Finally Tracey had enough and slammed her text book down. To Harry’s surprise, Theodore followed suit.

‘So who do you think is the Heir of Slytherin,’ she asked in a quiet voice, continuing the conversation they had been discussing after History of Magic.

‘It might not be the heir of Slytherin, just someone trying to use the fear that comes with the title,’ Theodore said, equally silently, ‘Someone who is willing to kill for their beliefs.’

‘Well I am not sure about kill yet, but they definitely seem to want all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts. Who in today’s society still cares that much about blood purity?’ Said Allison, but she was met with an immediate irritated response.

‘I do,’ said a grumpy Theodore. ‘The wizarding race is in danger of dying out because of all the watering down of muggles in our gene pool. I think there should definitely be more emphasis on magic folk only marrying magic folk, but unlike the attacker I am not going to hurt someone over my beliefs.’

Harry did not like these words coming out of his friends lips. He would not have been born if his father hadn’t married his Muggle-Born mother, nor would Remus if his dad hadn’t married his muggle wife. It was Tracey though who this really hurt, her father is a muggle and because of hers families fear of blood purists she’s not even allowed to tell anyone she has a brother. She shouted at Theodore.

‘Oh yeah! If you truly care about a persons lineage and not the person themselves how can we know you aren’t Slytherin’s heir?! Unlike Harry you come from a long line of Slytherins.’

Allison put a hand on Tracey’s shoulder and she calmed down a little. Despite all the yelling Theodore answered the question straight.

‘Use some logic Tracey, I was with you, Harry, and Allison the whole time at the Deathday party, and Harry saw me both times he heard that voice that seems to be connected to this somehow, so it obviously wasn’t me doing the voice. I do however have a theory as to who it is.’

‘Well, spit it out.’ Said Harry, still a bit mad at Theodore.

‘Use your brain,’ said Theodore in mock puzzlement. ‘Who do we all know is a Pure-Blood, blood purist, descendent of a longline of Slytherins, who said “You’ll be next, Mudbloods” the moment he saw the message on the wall?’

‘Malfoy.’ The rest of them whispered when he finished speaking.

But Harry wasn’t fully convinced, ‘I want to be clear I am not defending him, but I don’t think it could be Malfoy. He is all bark and no bite, we know this, that and he was definitely asleep when I first heard the voices.’

‘But unlike what you and Theodore believe, I don’t think the voice and the attacker are guaranteed to be connected,’ Allison stated,’ and unlike the four of us we have no proof as too his location when the attack happened.

Harry then chimed in, ‘Even if Draco isn’t evil, his father almost certainly is, my fathers has told me a lot of wicked things about him, so he could be having Draco doing his bidding.’

‘Yeah, and if their is a Chamber then his father could’ve handed him the key,’ said Allison. ‘But their is no way to prove it...’

‘Well,’ said Theodore cautiously, ‘There might be a way. We just ask him.’

‘What? Theo I am really starting to judge your sanity.’ Tracey said with a slight laugh, ‘He wouldn’t tell us in a million years.’

‘We won’t be us. But I still don’t think it’s a good idea. It would be really hard to pull off, and if we fail all four of us would certainly be expelled.’

‘Just spill it Theo.’ Harry begged.

Theodore grinned a devilish grin. ‘All we need to do is brew some Polyjuice Potion.’

‘What’s that?’ said Harry, Tracey, and Allison all together.

‘Snape mentioned it in a lecture two weeks ago–’

‘Do you think we’re all in love with Snape as much as you are?’ Allison half joked, ‘We just pay attention to the stuff that’ll give us a passing mark.’

‘One, I resent that comment about Professor Snape, I just really like potions, second it’s a transformation potion.’

‘Wait, really?’ Asked Harry, very impressed.

‘It is, so just consider this. We could change into, I don’t know, maybe Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy...and...um...oh, Millicent. No one would know it was us. Malfoy would then tell us anything we ask, he loves to brag. He’s probably talking about it with Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini upstairs right now. If only the door to our dorm didn’t have a sound proofing charm.’

‘This sounds a bit good to be true,’ said Tracey, suspiciously. ‘I don’t remember seeing any transformation potions in our text book?’

‘Well,’ said Theodore, turning a little red in the ears, ‘that is the one problem, the only copies of the book are in the Restricted Section. And not even Snape would believe me if I said I wanted to just take a look. Maybe we could manipulate another teacher?’

‘No need,’ Allison said, looking almost proud of herself, ‘I’ll have copy sent to us right away.’

‘What? How are you so confident,’ Theodore asked, ‘What makes you so sure you’re parents will give it to you.’

‘Because,’ she said with a chuckle, ‘My dad has been trying to get me to read dark books for ages to prepare me to be an Auror. The book will be yours Theo within a fortnight.’