Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise; you know the drill by now

Feedback: Of course

Harry Potter/Granger and the Chamber of Secrets

Given his own lack of information on the origins and purpose of the voice, however, Harry swiftly found himself experiencing great difficulty in working out exactly what it was that he'd heard in the first place. He knew that he'd heard it, of course- he was fairly certain that you didn't start hearing voices that clearly that quickly, no matter what kind of 'residual trauma' he might been dealing with as a result of his abuse at the hands of the Dursleys before he was sent to the orphanage-, but he wouldn't exactly like to bet good money on everyone else believing him when he tried to tell them that he'd heard a voice threatening to murder people, especially when he still hadn't actually seen any evidence that it had done so.

Of course, his research wasn't exactly helped by his need to keep up with both his school and quidditch work, both of which occupied a great deal of his time even without him trying to do his own independent studying. Ron was starting to wonder if Hermione had spent so much time with Harry over the summer that her old, nigh-on-over-the-top obsession with consulting the library had rubbed off on Harry, but Harry had assured Ron that he was just looking up information on something he'd heard about rather than turning into a total bookaholic.

However, as October rolled around with no further clues or information that he could use to help him figure out what he was actually dealing with, Harry's interest in the topic began to fade, particularly since he'd yet to discover anything useful one way or the other. The foul weather that he had to put up with during training sessions grew increasingly worse as time went on, with matters being far from helped by the news that the Slytherin team resembled nothing more than vivid green blurs as they flew around on their brooms while practising.

In general, though, Harry felt as though he was actually making rather good progress despite the poor weather he faced at present. The rain was definitely testing his endurance, if nothing else- he was starting to doubt that there was anything the opposing team could 'throw' at him (Both literally and metaphorically) that he couldn't handle after dealing with this weather-, but the question of what he was going to do about finding out about that voice was another matter completely; his private research had failed to provide him with any explanations save for the obvious option that he was going crazy, and he wasn't that inclined to consider that an option at this point.

Not that I ever would like to consider that an option… Harry reflected, hurrying along the corridor that would take him to the Gryffindor common room; he had enough mundane issues to deal with without factoring in his potential insanity, even without his fears of Voldemort to worry about.

Right now, he was just grateful that he'd at least mastered the cleaning charms enough to get the worst of the mud off after his practise; he might still be dripping wet, but at least he wasn't trailing mud along behind him as he ran…

Then he turned a corridor and found himself looking at the form of Nearly Headless Nick staring forlornly out of a window, muttering under his breath in evident frustration at something.

"Hey, Nick," Harry said, pausing his run to talk with the ghost; after everything he'd been worrying himself about lately, the chance to talk to someone else with a problem might make a welcome distraction from his own issues.

"Mmm?" Nick said, turning to look at him in slight surprise before he relaxed as he took in who was addressing him. "Oh, hello, hello… things all right?"

"I was actually wondering that about you," Harry replied, slightly uncertainly; he'd never been entirely certain how to address the ghosts, even if Nick had always seemed like decent enough company when he'd encountered him briefly in the corridors beyond the fact that he was dead.

"Ah," Nearly Headless Nick waved an elegant hand, "a matter of no importance… It's not as though I really wanted to join… Thought I'd apply, but apparently I 'don't fulfill requirements' …"

Harry didn't need to know people to know that Nick was putting on his current attitude; there was definitely a look of great bitterness on his face that his casual tone did little to conceal.

"But you would think, wouldn't you," he erupted suddenly, pulling a letter out of his pocket, "that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?"

"Can't really see why it wouldn't," Harry said; he had to admit, after enduring something like that you'd think anybody still around here as a ghost would be entitled to a few benefits no matter what state they were in.

"I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean and my head had come off properly; it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. However -" Nearly Headless Nick shook his letter open and read furiously: "'We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted company with their bodies. You will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise for members to participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head-Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, therefore, that I must inform you that you do not fulfill our requirements. With very best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore'."

Fuming, Nearly Headless Nick stuffed the letter away. "Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, Harry! Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh, no, it's not enough for Sir 'Properly Decapitated'-Podmore-"

Cutting himself off, Nearly Headless Nick took several deep breaths- most likely for psychological purposes; Harry hadn't looked into the issue of ghosts that much in his time at Hogwarts, but they definitely didn't need to breath- before he resumed the conversation.

"So," he asked, his tone now far calmer, "what's bothering you? Anything I can do?"

"No, it's nothing major; just a… well, just something I heard that's been puzzling me; it's nothing important," Harry said, shrugging dismissively; as pleasant company as Nick was, he wasn't exactly certain about telling Nick something that he hadn't even told Hermione yet. "Sorry about the Headless Hunt thing; see you later."

With that he continued to walk off towards the common room, vaguely registering Nick floating off through a nearby wall and a brief glimpse of movement lower down- most likely Mrs Norris, Filch's cat; there weren't many people who'd let their animals roam around like that- before he rounded another corner and the cat vanished from view.

Yet another detention-free night ahead, Harry mused, allowing himself a satisfied smile at the thought; after the cleaning charms he'd used to get rid of the mud he'd accumulated earlier, Filch didn't have any reason to try and catch him to give him detention even if Mrs Norris had seen him, which meant that he was free to get back to the common room and relax for a bit.


The next night was particularly pleasant at first, given that it was time once again for the school's annual Halloween feast; the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, the vast pumpkins Hagrid had been growing since term began had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in and were positioned all around the hall- a few of them were even animated, although a couple of Slytherin first-years were left with a noticeable shock when one of them roared just behind them-, and the rumors that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment turned out to be accurate; the skeletons- evidently artificial rather than genuine; using actual skeletons was probably darker magic than anyone would use for a simple party- spent most of the feast simply doing the occasional little jig in the middle of the tables while the rest of the students were waiting for their food to be served, but as the students began to finish their food they moved up to the front of the room to begin various unusual jigs to songs Harry hadn't heard before.

It would have been a pleasantly relaxing evening, if Harry hadn't glanced down to the end of the table and noticed the absence of two particular people.

"Ron?" he whispered, glancing over at where his friend was sitting just beside him, Hermione on the opposite side of the table.

"Yeah?" Ron asked, his gaze fixed on the dancing skeletons.

"Did Ginny and Percy happen to mention that they were going somewhere tonight?" Harry asked, indicating the now-empty seats that had originally held Ron's oldest remaining Hogwarts-attending brother and only sister, now conspicuously empty. It wasn't that they were the only people absent from the feast, of course- Harry could see a couple of empty seats at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, and quite a few Slytherins seemed to have left before the party even really started (Harry wondered if they were disappointed about the fake skeletons)-, but they were the only people who had left the table recently to Harry's knowledge, which made him more suspicious; after all, why would they have left the feast early after he'd clearly heard Ginny express her excitement about attending it (Before she'd realised that he was in the room, of course; she still seemed to get a bit shy once she saw he was present)…

"Come on," he whispered, jerking his head briefly towards the door as he looked at Ron and Hermione.

Hermione didn't need to ask for clarification; with everyone else's attention focused on the skeletons, nobody was going to notice their specific absence at this time, and Ginny's absence after she'd been so keen to attend this feast in the first place was definitely something that merited closer investigation, no matter how minor it might be. Slipping silently out of their chairs and creeping down the tables towards the door- with everyone's attentions focused on the skeletons none of the students would be likely to notice them, and the teachers' views were blocked by the skeletons in front of their table-, the trio slipped out into the halls and began to head towards the common room as rapidly-yet-quietly as possible.

They were possibly around half-way between the hall and the common room when Harry heard it.

"… rip… tear… kill…"

The sound of that cold, murderous voice was enough to put any thoughts of finding the missing Weasleys out of Harry's mind, instantly halting him in his tracks as he leaned against the wall and strained his ears and eyes for some sign of what might have made that noise in the dimly lit passageway.

"Harry, what're you -?" Hermione began.

"It's that voice again," Harry said briefly, thoughts of Ginny and Percy's strange absence pushed aside in favour of this new mystery. "Just… be quiet for a minute…"

"…soo hungry… for so long…" the voice continued, Hermione and Ron's bemused glances making it clear that they couldn't hear what he heard even as Harry strained his ears to pick up anything more distinctive about it. "…kill… time to kill…"

As the voice grew fainter, Harry momentarily wondered why it appeared to be moving upwards- was it another ghost or phantom of some sort?-, but he didn't have time to wait; if its last words were any indication, things were about to get unpleasant.

"This way!" he shouted, and he began to run up the stairs towards the source of the voice, all the time growing ever more concerned at the sound of the voice talking about the scent of blood even as Ron and Hermione continued to stare bemusedly at him (Thankfully, however, their bemusement evidently wasn't enough to make them doubt him). As they reached the second floor, he turned and ran down another corridor, only coming to a halt when he saw something at the end of the latest passage.

"Oh my God…" he whispered, staring in shock at the sight before him. On the wall in front of them, foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

The Chamber of Secrets has been opened.

Enemies of the Heir, BEWARE.

"What's that thing - hanging underneath?" said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

As they edged nearer, Harry almost slipped in a large puddle of water on the floor, only for Ron and Hermione to grab him and halt his descent as they approached the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All three of them realized what it was at once, and leapt backward with a splash; Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket, her entire body stiff as a board and her eyes wide and staring at something below her.

"Oh my God…" Hermione whispered. "Is… is she…?"

"Dead?" Harry said, leaning in for a closer examination of the cat before he stepped back, shaking his head. "No, it looks more like what I've read of Petrification; there's still a bit of a gleam of life in her eyes, even if she doesn't seem to be breathing that much…"

"We should go," Ron said, looking anxiously over at Harry. "We really don't want to be found here…"

"Agreed," Harry said, glancing at his watch before they turned to hurry back along the corridor towards the common room; Ginny and Percy's absences would have to wait until later, but right now they had to get back to Gryffindor Tower if they wanted to avoid being asked awkward questions about this latest attack when everyone else left the feast (For a moment Harry wondered if the two events were connected, but pushed it aside; Ginny was apparently a great cat-lover, which ruled out the idea of her doing something like this even if she wasn't too young to know that kind of magic, and Percy was too by-the-book to even think about insulting a member of the teaching staff, never mind something like this).

"Strange, though," Hermione said, after they'd been walking for a few moments with no sound of any movement from the Great Hall. "I mean, you hearing a voice that we can't… and then that whole thing with Mrs Norris…"

"You believe I heard it though, right?" Harry said.

"That's the only bit I don't question; what I'm puzzled about is why," Hermione said, shaking her head slightly as they walked. "And as for that message… I mean; 'The Chamber Has Been Opened'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know, it rings a sort of bell," said Ron slowly. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once ... might've been Bill…"

"Oh, so there is something in it?" Harry asked, slapping his hands together with a slightly teasing smile as he looked over at Hermione. "Too bad you left your copy of Hogwarts: A History behind; you could use it now, couldn't you…?"

"You what?" Ron said, looking at Hermione incredulously. "But you never- oh, right; Lock-prat's books took up too much space, huh?"

"I thought we agreed that topic was off-limits until we left school…?" Hermione said in a low, threatening voice; she was still somewhat embarrassed at her initial 'infatuation' with the useless professor.

"You agreed; we made no such promises," Harry replied, grateful for a more light-hearted topic. "Besides, it is kind of amusing…"

"Yes, yes, all right, I was an idiot; can we focus on more important things right now?" Hermione said, as she glared over at Harry. "Look, right now you're the only one of us with access to that book; you can check over it tonight and tell the rest of us what it's all about at breakfast, OK?"

"I think the morning might be better; this doesn't seem like the kind of thing we should encourage discussion about," Harry said, looking urgently between the two of them as he glanced again at his watch to check the time. "Look, let's get back to the dorms, say we left early because we were feeling tired if anyone asks what we're doing there already, and then meet up in the common-room at… say, five-thirty to talk about it?"

"Two hours before breakfast?" Ron said incredulously. "Harry-"

"We don't know what I'm going to find out, Ron; best to be prepared for the worst," Harry said by way of explanation, as they approached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "I'm not asking you to stay up and read it all with me; I'm just saying that we need to be prepared for the possibility that what I find might take a while to discuss."

"Harry's right," Hermione said, nodding at Ron. "Whatever did that to Mrs Norris was definitely powerful- there aren't many spells capable of that kind of Petrification, and I can't think of many creatures capable of it either-; the sooner we get some idea of what it is-"

"All right…" Ron said, briefly muttering the password to the portrait before they walked into the common room, heading for the stairs to the boy's dormitories with a sullenness that made it clear he was just going to hit his bed as soon as possible.


The following morning, Harry and Ron sneaked down to the common room at half-five to find Hermione already there, dressed- like them- in a pair of trousers and her pajama top; evidently all three of them had concluded that it would be easier to sneak back up once this conversation was over and continue the impression that they'd simply left the feast early.

"Find anything?" Hermione asked, as Harry and Ron sat down beside her, all three of them keeping their voices low; Harry had even brought his invisibility cloak in case it turned out to be needed if someone came down early.

"Not much- apparently the Chamber's only an unproven legend-, but what there is definitely doesn't sound encouraging…" Harry said, shaking his head slightly at the memory of the passages he'd read about the Chamber.

"What was it?" Ron asked.

"Well," Harry said, sitting back on the sofa slightly to better address his friends, "according to the book, when the Hogwarts Founders- Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin- originally created Hogwarts, they worked together in relative peace for the first few years bringing young wizards and witches here to be taught, but eventually things got a bit… complicated… when they began to bring in muggle-borns."

"In what way?" Hermione asked.

"Actually, it was Salazar Slytherin's fault; no surprise there then, really," Harry said, shrugging slightly in frustration at the memory before he continued. "Slytherin apparently thought that they should be more selective about teaching magic to the general population, and focus only on wizarding families rather than muggle ones that might produce an occasional magic user; he thought that prolonged contact with muggles increased the risk of them finding out about the wizarding world or something like that…"

"Git," Hermione said briefly.

"Quite," Harry agreed, smiling at her before he continued. "Anyway, he eventually left the school after an argument about it with Gryffindor, but that wasn't the end of the matter. According to rumour, Slytherin's meant to have created a secret chamber of some sort in the school that's inaccessible to anyone but his own chosen heir. From what I read, the chamber's meant to be the home of some kind of monster that the heir alone can control, the idea being that the heir will unleash this monster against those who- according to Slytherin- were unworthy to study magic."

"In other words, muggle-borns?" Ron asked.

"Precisely," Harry confirmed with a solemn nod. "Nobody's ever found the damn thing, of course, but rumours aren't exactly something that go away easily; people have been searching for it now and again, but they've never actually found anything. Add in the fact that message we saw mentioned the 'Heir'…"

"It doesn't take a genius to work out what's going on, really," Hermione said with a sigh as she leant back in the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. "Damnit… and I thought this was going to be an easy year for us…"

"With Voldemort showing up in person for our first one after hiding out in a near-death state for the previous ten for the dual purpose of regaining his body and killing me?" Harry asked sarcastically. "Why would things get easier after that?"

"Well, look on the bright side," Ron said, clearly trying to ignore the reference to Voldemort's name as he looked between his friends. "At least we've got an obvious candidate for the Heir; how many people do we know who think all muggle-borns are scum and is smart enough to know something about controlling whatever's down there?"

"Hold on… Malfoy?" Harry said, looking sceptically at Ron. "I don't know… he's always seemed more bark than bite…"

"All the more reason to think it's him; if that tale's right, he can send the monster out to do the dirty work for him while he hides away himself!" Ron said by way of explanation.

"You have to admit, it does make sense…" Harry said, nodding thoughtfully. "After all, his entire family have been in Slytherin; he can't shut up about it. They could easily be Slytherin's descendents; handing the key down from father to son until the right moment came to let the monster out once again…"

He sighed in frustration. "The only problem is proving it; since we're dealing with an unknown but definitely dangerous creature, catching him in the act wouldn't exactly be practical even if we knew where the bloody Chamber was, and it's not like he's going to admit it to us when there's a chance he'd get caught…"

"Unless he doesn't know it is us," Hermione added, smiling over at her brother. "You remember that potion Snape mentioned a few weeks back?"

"You mean… Polyjuice potion?" Harry asked uncertainly; he might pay attention in class, but he tended to rely on later consultation of his notes for revision purposes rather than try to remember everything he was told all at once. "That stuff that turns you into somebody else?"

"Well, it fits our purposes, you have to admit; all we need is the recipe, and we're sorted," Hermione said, only for her expression to falter. "Of course, it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library, and there's no way any teacher would believe we were just interested in the theory unless they were really stupid…"

"And fortunately," Harry said, smiling over at his friend and his sister, "we happen to have a truly thick teacher in the school at this time…"

Hermione's eyes widened in realisation.

"Lockhart…" she said with a broad, almost sadistic smile.

"Bingo," Harry said, nodding in confirmation before he glanced at his watch and stood up. "We'd better get back to bed before anyone else gets up; Hermione, you see what you can come up with for an excuse to provide for Lockhart."

"Right," Hermione said, nodding in understanding before she hurried off back to her dorm.

"Come, Watson," Harry said, smiling over at Ron as Hermione vanished up the stairs, "the game's afoot!"

"Uh… you OK, Harry?" Ron asked, looking uncertainly at his friend. "I'm Ron, not 'Watson'?"

Harry sighed.

Bloody wizards… he groaned, as he walked up the stairs in silent frustration at Ron's cultural ignorance. No respect for the classics