The weeks progressed. Harry and Ron had their detentions for their somewhat irregular arrival at school. Along with this, somehow Harry had managed to wrangle- and accept- an invitation to himself, Ron, Draco and Hermione to Nearly-Headless-Nick's deathday party.

It was by far the strangest party that Draco had been to -and he'd been to many, dragged along by his parents to whatever party some society hag was putting on this week. Instead of an elegant string quartet, the music was provided by a gang of skeletons, dragging fingernails down blackboards and rattling rusty chains. The oddest thing about the room however was the people in it. Other than Ron, Hermione, Harry and Draco none of them were alive, with the possible exception of Peeves, after all, who knew what a poltergeist really was? They wandered over to the food tables. They might be missing the feast above, but that was no reason to go hungry. The food however was. It was covered with green mould, blue mould and even a white, hairy sort of mould that only grows in really damp, dark places. They watched a ghost mournfully attempt to eat the food, by walking through it with his mouth open. Apparently he couldn't taste it. Hermione wrinkle her nose. She could taste it without going anywhere near it, and the smell of the food had formed an unavoidable odorous sphere about the table on which it sat. The headless hunt was a bit cheerier than the rest of the party, even though they were a bit, well, inconsiderate, interrupting Nick like that. Draco somehow felt that his mother wouldn't have approved. Eventually, they felt they could politely leave and promptly did so.

'Glad to be out of there. Do you think that if we hurry there'll still be desert in the great hall?'

'Honestly, Ron! All you think about is your stomach!' Hermione commented angrily. Even she was quite hungry by now, so they set off for the great hall at a rush. They never made it. As they rounded a corner, they noticed that they were suddenly walking in a puddle. They walked around another corner and a loud noise reached their ears, that of sixty benches simultaneously being pushed back.

'Oh no! The feast has finished. We've missed it!' exclaimed Ron, hungry as ever. Draco was also a bit miffed. He didn't like going to bed hungry. Never mind, he could always raid his tuck trunk for something to eat before heading to bed.

Harry's mouth was hanging open. Draco looked up and suddenly he knew why. It was Mrs Norris, hung up on an old bracket on the wall. She looked rather like an old, abandoned feather duster. The noise of footsteps grew and suddenly the whole school surrounded them. They turned around and noticed some strange writing on the wall.

'Hah! Enemies of the heir beware!' called a voice they knew all too well, 'Watch out mudbloods! You'll be next.' It was Theodore Nott, his large pasty white face flushed with an unwholesome shade as blood flushed to his face as he stood there, grinning, grinning at the lifeless body of the cat. Up behind him came the wheezing Argus Filch.

'What's all this then. Get a move on. Get a move on. What are you all gawping at anyway...My Cat! My cat! Someone's murdered my cat! Potter! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!'

Filch advanced angrily towards Harry, only to be stopped by the appearance of none other than Albus Dumbledore himself.

'Argus!' the old man exclaimed, 'Control yourself. Now, all of you students go back to your house common rooms immediately. All except,' he said waving a long, knobbly finger, 'you four.'

The students crept away, whispers spreading between them as they tried to work out what had happened.

'Professor Dumbledore, my office is nearest, if you'd care for the use of it.' Lockhart helpfully offered. The Professors, Mr Filch and the four friends hurried along behind the Headmaster's sweeping robes towards Lockhart's office.

'She's not dead, Argus.' Dumbledore concluded after a long period of poking, prodding and sniffing the body of Mrs Norris, 'she has merely been, petrified.'

'So unlucky, if only I'd been there- I know the very counter-curse that could have saved her' said Lockhart. This seemed only to upset Filch further.

'My Cat. Has been. Petrified. I want to see some punishment!' He sobbed angrily.

'Argus my dear fellow, Professor Sprout has an excellent crop of mandrakes coming on this year, we can soon make up some mandrake restorative draught up and revive her. It's not permanent.'

'He did it!' Filch yelled, hardly relieved by the fact he'd have to wait to get his beloved cat back, 'I know he did it! He saw my Kwikspell letter. He knows. He knows I'm a squib!'

'Argus. No second year could possibly do this. It would require dark magic of the strongest kind.'

'It was him. I know it was!'

'Argus. You are getting hysterical. Calm yourself.' Dumbledore ordered. Professor Sprout kindly sat him down and made him a cup of camomile and lavender tea from Lockhart's private supply.

'Is there anything you four would like to tell me?' continued the headmaster. They all shook their heads. After all, they knew no more than anyone else did.

The headmaster dismissed them and they headed slowly back to the Gryffindor common room.

'What's that all about?'

'What do you mean?

'This Chamber of Secrets thing' Harry asked.

'Well, my dad told me that when Slytherin left the school, he left behind a chamber with a monster in it to purge the school of those unworthy of studying magic.'

'What do you mean unworthy to study magic?'

'Calm down Hermione, that's just what my dad said- he's a complete blood-purity loon, remember?'

'Blood purity?'

'Yeah, Bloody purity, nasty idea. Some wizards, like my dad, reckon that pure bloods are better than others because they've not got any muggle blood in them. They think it's dirty and contaminates the pure wizarding stock- makes squibs more likely, that sort of thing. From dirty blood came "mudblood", you all heard Nott going on earlier about that I'm sure. It's not the sort of phrase one normally utters in polite company and certainly not outside of a room where everyone is a pureblood. Simply not the done thing.' Explained Malfoy.

'What's a squib?' asked Harry.

'A squib, well it's the opposite of a muggle-born. Explains a lot that Filch is one really. He's bitter. A job mopping up after that which he should have been himself? Can't imagine that would make anyone feel secure about themselves, can you?'

They eventually reached the Fat Lady as the bells chimed midnight. It had been a long day and despite being hungry they went straight to bed.

Seven hours later, they were awake again.

'What already?' Ron groaned as the others woke him up. They hurried down to breakfast and took their usual seats in the great hall. Draco was really hungry- he'd only had a light lunch yesterday and that was by now nineteen hours ago. He heard his stomach rumble, but no-one else did. As Draco was tucking into his fourth chipolata of the morning, he began to listen to the conversation that was going on along the rest of the table. Everyone was talking about the Chamber of Secrets. Draco was washing down his final slice of toast with pumpkin juice when Hermione walked into the hall. She wasn't usually this late to breakfast.

'Where've you been?' Draco asked.

'Library.'

'Already? It's not as if its exam term, what were you doing in the library this early?'

'The same thing everyone else was, trying to find a copy of Hogwarts, a History.'

'Why?' chipped in Ron, who had just finished his breakfast.

'To try and find out more about the Chamber of Secrets. Lockhart's books took up so much room I couldn't fit it in my trunk when I came to school. Seems like loads of other people had the same idea though, there wasn't a single copy left.' Hermione seemed shocked at the concept of all the copies of a book in the library being checked out when she didn't have one.

Hermione had time for a quick bowl of porridge before having to rush off to History of Magic. It was perversely Draco's third favourite lesson, right after Charms and Transfiguration. He loved sitting there, relaxing and hearing Professor Binns telling all the stories he'd grown up with. The rebellion of Ug the Unclean had been his favourite bed-time story when he was five. Today he decided to ask a question, so he stuck his hand up.

This rather shocked Binns, who hadn't had someone stick their hand up in his class for the best part of two centuries.

'Yes, you, Maladroit'

'Malfoy, sir.'

'What did you want to ask, boy.'

'Sir, can you tell us about the Chamber of Secrets?'

'The Chamber of Secrets. Pah! It's a myth lad, a myth! This is History of magic. Here we only deal with cold, hard, indisputable fact. This isn't story time!'

By now the whole class had emerged from its usual stupor. Soon everyone began asking Binns about the Chamber.

'Very well. If it will stop you asking questions.' The old ghost droned exasperatedly.

'As you well know, Hogwarts was built over a thousand years ago by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. Now, time passed and the founders came to a, a disagreement and one of their number left the school forever. This much is solid fact and is well documented. The founder who left the school was Salazar Slytherin. There is some doubt over Slytherin reason for leaving, but it is widely thought to be that he refused to accept students who came from non-magical backgrounds, deeming them unworthy. Over the years since he left, a rumour has sprung up to the effect that Slytherin built a secret chamber in the castle before he left the school for the final time, containing some sort of a monster. Slytherin's heir, when he returned to the school was supposed to be able to unleash "the horror within". This is complete nonsense however. The castle has been searched many times and not the slightest bit of evidence that such a chamber exists has ever been uncovered.'

Having finished, Binns went back to his lesson plan and the class went back to sleep. This lesson did however serve only to ignite the fire of curiosity in the hearts of the Gryffindors who had been in it.

'Only the heir of Slytherin can open it.'

'Yeah, seems that way. What do you think that means though, one of the Slytherin's is a Slytherin in more ways than one?'

'Yeah, probably. Bet it's Nott.' Said Harry.

Draco wasn't so sure. The Notts may have been an old family, but none of them could trace their ancestry back to Slytherin as far as he could remember. Besides, his Uncle had told him a horror story about Hogwarts before he'd left this year. A story that apparently Lucius had told him. A story of the chamber being opened, nigh on fifty years ago. No Nott had been at the school then. But what about Theo's mother? She might have been. Or his grandmother? It was always possible.

'Well, there's only one way we can get into the Slytherin common room to find out.' Said Hermione, continuing the conversation, 'Polyjuice potion.'

'That stuff!' Draco exclaimed, bursting into the conversation. 'How're we supposed to make that? Anyway, didn't Snape say that the recipe was in the restricted section?'

'All we need is a signed note from a teacher to get it though.'

'Yeah, but come on Hermione, no teacher's going to fall for that – they'd have to be really thick!'