Author's notes: Harry is emotionally and socially immature compared to his peers that he also misses plenty of blatant social cues that could help him navigate his interactions with his fellow Slytherins, who only see that he needs protection while he attempts to figure out who he is.


Telling Harry she'd look into what a Pariah legally was, Hermione responded much as Harry expected about his main worry. It wasn't normal to hear voices, even for wizards and witches. Murmuring an Ever-Burning Jinx, the letter went up in flames, and Harry buried his head against his arm on the table, sitting with his year-mates.

"What's the matter with you? You've only started a plate, and not even finished it!" Parkinson sounded alarmed.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I bet it's girl trouble," Davis said knowingly. "Merlin knows Potter enjoys exchanging correspondence with that Muggle-born."

"That's not it."

"Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey about something?" Sally-Anne asked in a reasonable tone.

"It's not anything physical, emotional, or metaphysical," Harry said muffled against his arm, going through the list that Psych-Healer Fawley had used during their sessions.

"So, you're afraid you're having a mental break or something, Harry?" Theodore leaned closer to him.

Harry shrugged without speaking.

"What happened?" Parkinson asked. She exchanged glances with the others who were near him. "We swear we won't tell anyone, will we?"

They agreed.

Sighing, Harry sat up to crane his head back so he could stare at the Bewitched ceiling. "Last night after flying around for ages… I walked into Hogwarts with Flint and I… I heard a whispery voice. And it wasn't a nice voice, one that Flint couldn't hear." Harry looked at them hopefully. "You think Peeves could do that? Make one person hear things the other can't?"

All five sets of eyebrows had risen to their hairline.

"Not a chance, huh?" Harry said miserably, pressing his forehead against his forearms again. He hardly slept last night since it had bothered him so much.

"Well, did your detector go cold?" Theodore leaned his chin against a hand. "It doesn't work reliably on the average ghostie, but on poltergeists it can be fairly dependable."

The others were listening curiously.

"I thought it did but when I checked, there wasn't a shadow."

"Poltergeists can make the whole face go sort of grey. Since they're not corporeal beings there's no shadow."

"It wasn't grey either," Harry said gloomily, "For all I know, I could have imagined it going cold."

"Look on the bright side, Harry. Now that you've told us, we'll Stun you if you go off the deep end without anyone getting hurt," Theodore cheerfully said, "My uncle sort of went bonkers when he was twenty or so. It's something that runs in my family. There's a certain amount of… madness that can come with great magical power. Just take a look at the headmaster."

"Oh, that makes me feel so much better," Harry said sarcastically.

"Well," Greengrass said slowly, "If it helps, your mind seems sound to me…"

"Yes, because when someone doesn't seem crazy, everything will turn out alright," he sniped.

"She was attempting to ease your worries, you ill-mannered prig," Davis snapped. Before Harry could respond, she turned to Greengrass, "Any movement on the Parseltongue front?"

The dark blonde grinned. "Only slightly."

"Stela's using the word-cards now. I think I know the word for mouse," Parkinson was saying, and then made a soft sibilant noise that sounded like PHUU-d to Harry. He had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing.

"Is something funny?" came the brunette's icy tone.

"You said something very close to 'food'," Harry said, "Not 'mouse'."

"Wait, you mean to tell me that it's possible to learn Parseltongue as a second language?" Theodore's face was alight with excitement.

"You'll be the first to know once we've cracked it," Davis said.

Theodore fist-pumped the air. "Fantastic," he hissed with excitement.

Harry didn't know why they didn't just ask him to say certain words in Parseltongue to Stela, but he wasn't going to be bothered by it. They'd ask if they needed help.

When the next few weeks came around and there were no more voices, Harry was finally able to relax. Maybe it had been a one-time occurrence.

Quite happily, Harry went to the Halloween Feast in the Great Hall, having missed out on eating it last year due to the troll being let in. There were live bats fluttering around adding to the mystique. This year, pumpkins big enough to sit in had been carved out into lanterns. There had been rumors all week that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for entertainment.

Harry settled in and dined as he had never dined before. The rumors turned out to be true as dancing skeletons tap-danced on the High Table, their bones clacking together noisily. Professor Snape was not supping with the rest of the teachers. Harry thought it was a little odd that his guardian seemed so distant, having left his office only to teach. The whole troll incident aside, Harry remembered that Professor Snape had acted the same way last year on the very same date.

Before the feast ended, Harry had to go to the loo. Theodore tagged along with him.

After washing his hands once he'd relieved himself, he turned to his friend. "Theo… Did something important happen on October Thirty-First?"

Theodore looked at him. "The Dark Lord was vanquished."

Harry frowned. He couldn't see Snape, who had publicly renounced the Dark Lord, mourning the death of an evil wizard…

"Why do you ask?"

And then Harry heard it. This time he immediately looked at the watch-face, but only a dark squiggly line had appeared on it.

"…rip….tear…kill…"

It was the same voice, the same cold murderous voice he had heard after walking into the Entrance Hall with Flint.

Racing out of the bathroom, Harry listened with all his might as he swung his head this way and that, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway. He clutched the stone wall beside him.

"Harry…?" His wand at the ready, Theodore had caught up to Harry. "What are you hearing?"

"Shut up a minute, I might be able to find out where the voice is coming from…" Harry ran down the hall, shuffling his hands along the wall. He could hear it. It had to be nearby somewhere. The watch went warm whenever Harry made a wrong turn.

"…ssoooo hungry… for ssso long…"

"Listen!" Harry said urgently, and Theodore froze watching him with his wand still up.

"…kill…. Time to kill! KILL!"

The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving away—upward. He stared at the dark ceiling in confusion. How could the voice be moving upward? Was it a phantom to whom stone ceilings didn't matter? But then a shadow shouldn't have showed up on the watch...

"This way!" he shouted and he ran, narrowly missing the Stun Spell Theodore threw his way that sparked in a shower of blue. "Don't Stun me. The watc—" Harry had to duck another Stun spell. Perhaps telling Theodore that he heard voices had not been the best of plans. He ran upstairs to the first floor, Theodore's footsteps clattering behind him.

"Harry! Come back!"

Running as quietly as he could, Harry cocked his head, his ears straining. Distantly from the floor above, and growing fainter still, he heard the voice: "Blood..…I ssmell blood….. I SSMELL BLOOD!"

Harry's stomach lurched as he was hit by a Full Body-Bind Curse. His legs and his arms slammed against his sides, and he fell to the floor sideways.

"Kill! KILL!"

Harry's eyes roved. The voice was going to kill someone!

"We need to take you to Madam Pomfrey and have you checked out. Are you coming with me or do I need to float you down there?"

Harry gave Theodore his best watery expression, expressing agreement nonverbally and aurally.

"Alright. So long as you behave." Theodore waved his wand and cast a Canceling Spell; the stiffness left Harry.

Gleeful that he managed to trick Theodore, Harry jumped to his feet and dove around the corner before his friend threw another spell at him. Harry hurtled up the moving marble staircase to the second floor, running through as many corridors as it would take him. When the watch grew colder, he knew he was on the right track.

Harry came at last to a deserted, flooded passage. His instinct screamed at him to leave, but Harry's curiosity wondered at what was glistening on the corridor's wall. He stepped through water.

Foot-high words had been smeared on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by flaming torches.

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

As Harry edged nearer, he squinted at something hanging from one of the torch holders. He nearly slipped on the water-slick stone under his feet.

It was Mrs. Norris, hanging by her tail. She was stiff as a board and her eyes were wide and staring. Harry perhaps should not have dined as much as he had as his stomach cramped at the sight.

The pounding of footsteps faltered to a measured gait. "Did you do that?" Theodore asked shakily. Harry turned and saw his friend pointing his wand at him.

Harry shook his head. "No, it was already like this…."

"We should alert Professor Snape. He'll know what to do."

This seemed like a reasonable demand, but a great thunder was coming. The boys exchanged a confused look.

Theodore cursed. "The Halloween feast must be over. We've got to get out of here." They began to walk in the opposite direction of the clamoring students only to realize that the noise was growing clearer; the sound of laughing and carrying on was floating down the other side of the corridor as well. Theodore and Harry ducked around the corner again just as the first wave of students entered the far-end of that corridor.

"We're screwed. Absolutely screwed," Theodore said, mostly to himself as he gazed at the horrid message running with what looked like blood.

Knowing they only had seconds, Harry did the first thing that came to mind. He pulled out his magic cloak, grabbed Theodore, and dragged him towards the flooding girl's loo not far from them. He threw the cloak over the both of them. Theodore turned around with a questioning look. Harry lifted a finger to his lips and then pointed at a mirror in front of them.

"Ruddy hell! You have an Invisibility Cloa—"

Latching his hand over Theodore's mouth, Harry lifted a finger to his lips more forcefully.

The chatter and noise went deathly silent when the two groups of students came upon the desecrated part of the hallway.

Dropping his hand from his roommate, Harry looked around the old bathroom and noticed spiders crawling out of the nearest windows.

Then Harry heard Draco shout among the whispering, "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Muggle-borns!"

Harry grinned victoriously. Draco had kept his promise after being soundly defeated in their duel. Theodore gave him an uncomfortable look.

"What's going on here? What's going on? Make way!" Filch's voice rose among the uneasy murmuring of the students. No doubt the Hogwarts Caretaker had come running because of the huge crowd. "What's happened to Mrs. Norris?!" The Hogwarts Caretaker shrieked. Then there was a pause. "It was one of you."

The crowd let out a startled yelp.

"One of you's murdered her! Killed her! I'll kill you!" He roared. "I'll—"

"Argus!" Professor Dumbledore's voice cut through the man's ranting. There was silence and then he said, "Everyone will proceed to their dormitories immediately."

That was when Harry wondered why Draco, a Slytherin had headed upstairs instead of downstairs to the dungeons… It wouldn't have been the first time that the Grand Marble Staircase heading down to the dungeons took a detour up a floor before going down. But the Slytherins generally took the longer staircase in the Entrance Hall which never changed… Had Draco followed

"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 bright words said.

Filch let out a dry, racking noise. Harry felt sorry for the man.

Once the noise of students clambered away, Professor Dumbledore finally spoke up, "She's not dead, Argus."

Lockhart abruptly stopped his long-winded story of protecting the people of Ouagadogou.

"Not dead?" Filch croaked. "Then why's she all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been Petrified," Professor Dumbledore said evenly.

"Ah! I thought so!" Lockhart crowed.

"But how, I cannot say," Dumbledore continued as if he'd never been interrupted. Harry didn't understand how the man could have hired such a duffer as a teacher.

"Ask that Potter boy," Filch's voice carried sharply. "He did it! I know he did it!"

Frowning and frightened by the thought of being blamed, Harry looked up at Theodore who had a grim look. Why did Mr. Filch think Harry was responsible?!

"No second year could have done this, Argus," Professor Dumbledore said firmly, "It would take very advanced Dark Magic—"

"You saw what he wrote on the wall!" Filch spat out. "He's bloody well shaping himself up to be the next Dark Lord, he is! How else could he have survived You-Know-Who's attack last year?"

Harry grew hot with fury. Only Theodore's cool fingers on his shoulders kept Harry rooted to the spot.

"If I might speak in defense of a student of my house, Headmaster," Snape's voice murmured.

Harry's sense of foreboding increased, but only because he had no idea what Snape was going to say.

"Harry Potter is the least likely of any of Hogwarts students to become a Dark Wizard. His distaste for the Dark Arts and impatience with Potions has all but excluded him from becoming the next 'Dark Lord'," Snape said evenly.

"My Kneazle has been Petrified!" Filch screamed. "I want to see some punishment!"

"We will be able to cure her," Dumbledore said patiently. "Professor Sprout has a rather healthy growth of Mandrake. As soon as they mature, a potion will be made that will revive Mrs. Norris."

"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in, no longer able to remain silent, "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep—"

"Excuse me," Snape said icily. "But I believe that I am the Potions Master at this school."

There was a very awkward pause. Harry had to shove his hand over his mouth to stop from giggling. Theodore shot him a concerned look.

"Er, yes. But of course. However, should you require my services—"

"I do not," Snape said sharply.

"Well then! Should anyone need me I will be in my office!"

Harry could hear the other staff members as they murmured furtively to one another, fading as they exited the corridor.

Once he heard silence, Harry tugged at Theodore and they both began to walk towards the door. The water slapped under their feet and sloshed around their ankles noisily.

Professor Snape entered the girl's loo and looked around curiously.

Freezing in place at the appearance of their Head of House, Theodore and Harry held their breath and stayed very still.

Their Head of House narrowed his eyes at the water surrounding their feet and then headed straight at the pair hiding under the cloak. With a quick flick of his hand, he ripped the Invisibility Cloak from their shoulders. He stared at them.

"I-it wasn't me, Professor," Harry stammered.

Snape looked at the magic cloak and then looked at Harry and Theodore. "So, this is what you've been using to sneak around. Consider it confiscated." He balled it up and stuck it into a pocket.

Harry opened his mouth to complain, but decided it would be better not to.

"You're going to tell me exactly what—" Snape began before he was interrupted by a watery moan, and every toilet began to flush at once, drowning him out. The moaning female ghost with glasses and pigtails flew over their heads. "Myrtle, there are questions I have for you about the incident that occurred outside your bathroom," Professor Snape boomed over the noise of rushing water.

"This is a girls' water closet and only one of you is a girl!" Myrtle shrieked.

Harry thought that was a very strange statement to make. He didn't miss how Professor Snape's jaw tensed, and a twitch appeared on his cheek below his right eye.

Without blinking an eye, Theodore said, "Mrs. Norris was Petrified right outside your loo. Did you happen to notice that, Myrtle?"

"I wasn't paying attention," the ghost sniffed dramatically. "Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself… Then, of course, I remembered that I'm…" She let out a tragic sob, rose up in the air, turned over, and dove headfirst into the nearest toilet. Water sloshed over their ankles.

"That explains the flooded floor," Theodore observed.

"My office," Professor Snape spat out and turned, splashing through the water to the door.

Once safely inside Professor Snape's warm office, Harry had divulged what he'd heard for the past few weeks as the reason for going upstairs, when Theodore didn't say a word to their Head of House's sharply worded questions.

Professor Snape gazed at Harry coldly. "So," he drawled. "You heard a sinister voice talking about blood and killing, and your first thought was to run… into danger?"

"I thought someone was going to die!" Harry blurted out, and, right after, thought it had been the wrong thing to say.

His guardian pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Sir, Harry was—"

Their Head of House raised a hand to interrupt Theodore's attempted spin on Harry's statement. "The message on the wall clearly alludes to someone within the Slytherin House. Obviously, this is a distraction from the real culprit, who does not belong to my house."

"How can you be so sure, sir?" Theodore leaned forward giving Harry's guardian his full attention.

"According to the only autobiographical account of Salazar Slytherin, only his Heir can open the Chamber of Secrets and control the monster within. Quite clearly he meant a Parselmouth," Snape said succinctly. "As no one within my house has that exceedingly rare ability, it is very easy to say that the culprit is elsewhere."

Harry felt very odd quite suddenly. He'd thought for sure someone would have told Professor Snape about his ability to talk to snakes. Why hadn't the prefects bothered to inform him?

"Ah…" came Theodore's noncommittal response. "So, are we getting detention, professor?"

Snape looked at them as if the thought had not occurred to him. A slow smirk came across his lips. "Yes, tomorrow night at seven-thirty… Potter, you have detention with Prefect Wynch in this office. Nott, I expect you to report to the Potions lab."

Once they'd exited the room, Theodore sighed. "I thought for a moment that I'd blown your cover."

Mind still stuck on that the fact that their Head of House had never been informed of his ability, Harry didn't hear his friend's statement. Faint, he stumbled and held himself upright against the wall. Was Harry the Heir of Salazar Slytherin? The memory of the message written in slick crimson blossomed in Harry's mind. Enemies of the Heir Beware, it'd been written. Was this Draco's idea of a joke? Maybe he'd written the words. It would explain why he was in the corridor...

"Harry?" Theodore pressed a hand against his back. "Are you alright?"

No, someone was trying to frame him for the Petrification of Mrs. Norris. Feeling sick, Harry's legs gave out; only Theodore's hands around his arms helped him stay upright.

Theodore whispered, "Do you need to go see Madam Pomfrey?"

"The watch showed me a squiggly line," he muttered.

"Oh? So then the voice—"

"No, it's nothing. Never mind," he said quickly, pushing Theodore's helping hands away. "I'm bushed. Too much excitement and all." He hurried to the stairs while his year-mate frowned with bemusement.

Harry really hoped he was wrong about being the Slytherin Heir because otherwise everyone was going to blame him for the attacks.