The next morning was cool even though the winter sun did its best to warm the grounds. By the time Draco had reached the common room, stretching his stiff leg by the fire, news had already spread. Colin Creevey had been petrified.
"What?" Draco sneered, "That little snot who always took photos of Potter?" He rolled his eyes.
"A Gryffindor first year, yes," Percy Weasley replied stiffly.
"When did you even hear about this?" Fred asked.
"This morning, from Professor McGonagall. I noticed that Creevey hadn't returned to the common room last night." He fingered his prefect badge proudly. "I expect there will be an announcement of rules for all students, with exceptions for prefects, of course."
"Of course," George said sarcastically, "special exceptions for Perfect Percy the Prefect."
"I didn't mean that!" Percy flushed angrily. "I meant something like a curfew. Creevey left the common room very late last night. And, as a prefect, I shall have more duties. I won't be able to do as I please. I have responsibilities."
And true enough, Professor McGonagall appeared in the common room shortly before breakfast. The final, sleepy Gryffindors were awoken and dragged down to the common room, still in their pyjamas, with their hair sticking out at odd angles. Ron was one of them. "What's going on?" he mumbled, his early morning breath making Draco's nose twitch.
"In light of recent circumstances, there has been a change to rules here at Hogwarts," McGonagall announced, "students are to be accompanied from class to class by a teacher. Students are to return to their dormitories by eight o' clock, no exceptions. Prefects will patrol the corridors—" Percy glared at the twins— "for anyone disobeying this rule, and there will be consequences for those that choose to flout the rules." Her eyes scoured the room. "Any questions?" There was silence. She turned to leave again.
"Professor!" Draco cried. She stopped. "Is the Chamber of Secrets really open?"
She looked at his normally pale face, flushed and gleaming. She hesitated. "Well, you might as well know," she muttered, and then more loudly, "Albus Dumbledore seems to think so."
A murmur rippled throughout the common room as McGonagall left. Percy glared disapprovingly at the commotion. Draco turned to Ron and Hermione. "This is exciting," he said, "the Chamber hasn't been opened in fifty years! The monster—"
"Exciting while no one gets hurt," Hermione retorted, "this could be dangerous. It's not fun, Draco."
Draco wrinkled his nose at the foul smell emanating from the cauldron. "What did you say it was, Hermione?"
"Polyjuice potion," she replied, ripping up tufts of knotgrass and adding them to the brown sludge.
"Are you sure it's safe to make here?" Ron asked. He glanced around them. "Broad daylight, in the middle of the girls' bathroom?"
Hermione laughed. "Don't be silly, no one's going to come in here."
"Why not?" Draco demanded.
Hermione's eyes darted nervously, and she whispered something almost inaudible.
"What?" Ron asked, and the boys leant forward to hear her better.
"Moaning Myrtle," Hermione said in a low voice.
"Who's Moaning Myrtle?" Ron asked loudly.
"I am!"
The three of them jumped. The ghost of a girl wearing Hogwarts uniform appeared next to Ron.
"Oh. Right," he mumbled.
"And no one's going to come in here, silly, if moaning, moping, moody, miserable little Myrtle is here!" She glowered at them all. "I hope you're not doing something terribly naughty?" She giggled.
"Would you tell if we were?" Draco asked.
"Maybe." Myrtle twisted to face him. Her eyes traced his body, up and down, gleaming. "Draco Malfoy," she gasped, "I've heard all about you." She giggled again.
"Heard what?"
"The first Malfoy to be sorted into Gryffindor in— oh! Such a long time. And now on the Gryffindor team. Did you enchant that bludger to chase Harry Potter around the pitch?"
"No," Draco snapped, "how do you know so much? I've never seen you before. You don't come to the feasts."
"No…" Myrrtle turned away, "I stay here, in my toilet."
"Why?"
"Why?" she snapped, "Because no one wants to talk to Moaning Myrtle, silly!"
"We're talking to you, Myrtle," Hermione said quickly, as the ghost's bottom lip began to stick out.
She shrugged. "I suppose so. But you're only here because no one else wants to come in, not because you really want to talk to me."
"Oh, well, we actually really—" But Myrtle cut Hermione off with a wail and dived into one of the cubicles. There was a splash and Myrtle disappeared.
"She is moody!" Ron muttered as Hermione threw some more knotgrass into the cauldron.
"But it does make her toilet perfect for something like this."
Draco tilted his head sideways. "Hermione, do you look different?"
She smirked. "Yes. Just a little."
Draco and Ron exchanged confused glances. "Your hair?" Ron asked.
"No, not my hair."
"Your robes?" Ron tried again.
"No."
"Your skin?"
"No! My teeth!"
"Teeth?" Both boys lent forwards to look properly.
"When you two slipped off to get the ingredients for this potion," she explained, "mine and Neville's swelling solution exploded— you know, our diversion— and a few drops of it landed on my teeth. And they were already big enough before, as Draco has pointed out to me many times—" she glared at him, "but they just get growing and growing and wouldn't stop! So Snape gave me the antidote so that they shrunk back down to perfect size!" She beamed at them both.
"You know," Ron said, "it's really not that noticeable."
She rolled her eyes. "Ron, you wouldn't notice if mine and Draco's heads swapped bodies for a week. You don't notice anything!"
