Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling; various publishers including, but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books; and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: One more chapter after this one, and then it'll be on to the next story - 'Of Marbles Lost and Found'.

Chapter Ten: Some Answers

Upon returning to Hogwarts, Harry cornered Hermione and told her of the messenger-parchments he'd read about. Their entire group ended up with a set a couple of weeks later. Hermione had bound the sheets into a small book, which oddly resembled a diary or sketchbook, and made several extras, stating that they might want to bring in others at some other time. She also made sure that there was an extra single-parchment paired to some of Harry's blank pages, so that he could write to his family.

On the third Saturday after the end of Christmas hols, Harry finally found the time to venture alone into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Luckily, said ghost wasn't there. From what Harry had heard of the ghost, he didn't want to meet her… ever. Keeping in mind his discussion with Little Bird, as well as the details from his rather vivid dream, Harry inspected the sink in which the snake had been sleeping in his dream.

Etched into the side of the copper tap was a small snake. Guess that means Grandma was right…Harry thought. Well… KISS. He took a breath, allowed his imagination to picture his snake friend, Eyebright, and said, "Open."

He stumbled back as the sink sunk out of sight, revealing a large pipe leading down into nothingness. "For the love of Gaia… Grandma really was right…" He peered into the darkness of the pipe.

"What are you doing here!?" A shrill voice shouted near his ear. Harry jumped and whirled around, nearly falling into the pipe.

A ghost of a teenaged girl with glasses and a Hogwarts uniform was floating not far from his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I was just looking for somethin'."

"You're a boy. You shouldn't be in a girls' loo!"

"You're Myrtle, aren't you?" Harry had a sudden idea.

The girl crossed her arms over her translucent chest, "Why? Come to poke fun at poor, miserable, moping, Moaning Myrtle?"

Harry held his hands up, "No, no. Not at all. I just heard that you haunted the plumbing and was hopin' I could find you. I wanted ta know iffen y'all could help me?"

The outrage faded from Myrtle's face, replaced by a level of skepticism. "How could I possibly help you?"

"Well… it's like this, ya see…" Harry then gave a simplified explanation of how he'd found out that Slytherin's basilisk and chamber were through the pipe which still sat exposed where the sink once stood. Halfway through his explanation, he realized that this was likely the girl who had died that Riddle had mentioned. "Iffen you wouldn't mind, Myrtle, could ya tell me how ya died?"

For the first time, Myrtle smiled. "Oooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in there. I died in that stall… I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny, in a different language. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then –" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining, "I died."

"How?" asked Harry.

"I don't know…" Myrtle said in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great big yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away…" She leveled a dreamy gaze on Harry. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, was she ever sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses!"

"That sounds a lot like a basilisk," Harry said. "The eyes, I mean. Ya see, I'm tryin' ta figure out iffen this really is where Salazar's secret chamber is. Iffen so, then I was gonna try ta see iffen maybe the teachers could get rid of the basilisk. It really shouldn't be in a school… What if it got out again?"

Myrtle looked thoughtful. "So you plan to kill the thing that killed me?"

Harry nodded solemnly. "That's the idea."

"How can I help?"

Harry gestured to the pipe. "Well, for starters, you could follow this pipe for me and tell me where it goes. I'd go, myself, but it looks like it goes for quite a ways, an' I don't know how I'd get out again iffen I did go down it."

Myrtle smiled brightly at Harry and dove down the pipe. Harry took a seat to wait for her return. He pulled out a pocketbook mystery he was in the middle of to read while he waited.

When Myrtle finally reappeared, about an hour later, she was excited and began chattering a mile a minute. "I followed the pipe like you said to, and found this large stone tunnel filled with skeletons and huge snake skins. At the end of the tunnel was a solid wall carved with snakes that had emeralds for eyes. I went through the wall and found this enormous room that had snake-shaped pillars and a great big statue of a wizard on the far wall. I explored around some, that's what took me so long, and found that there's another little room hidden in the statue's head. A bright green snake – it has to be longer than the Hogwarts' Express – was curled up inside, sleeping. I came straight back."

Harry smiled brightly, "Thanks, Myrtle! You did really well. That was just what I needed ta know."

Myrtle beamed at the praise and swooped down and kissed Harry on the cheek before blushing a bright silver and disappearing into a nearby toilet. Harry shook off the chill and gooseflesh that surfaced, wiped his cheek with a grimace and had to try three times to close entrance to the Chamber.

On his way to find Professor Snape, he was approached by Dumbledore. "A word, Harry, if you please?"

"Sure." Harry was only mildly irritated at being interrupted in his quest for the day. "Whacha need, sir?" he asked once the two of them were in the headmaster's office.

"I recently received a notice from the Ministry of Magic regarding the start of an investigation into the actions of our current Defense professor. I was curious as to whether you knew anything about that?"

Several things suddenly became clear to Harry; Lockhart's edginess in class, Hermione's suddenly cool and unexplained attitude towards the professor, and that the headmaster thought that he was responsible. Well… mayhap I am, but not directly. He started laughing. "Good for Hermione, sir."

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir. Though I don't really like Professor Pfauhahn, I've been busy with other things lately."

"And just how goes your investigation?" the headmaster asked with a knowing smile.

"Well, I think. Oh, I s'pose I should let ya know… The entrance to Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets is in the girls' bathroom that Myrtle haunts, and according to Myrtle, the basilisk is still inside it."

Apparently, that wasn't what Dumbledore had been expecting. Harry was gifted with a very rare start of surprise from the Hogwarts headmaster. "Excuse me?" he asked.

Harry smirked. "I said that –"

"I heard what was said, thank you, Harry. How do you know this?"

Harry shrugged, "Same way I know a lot of stuff, sir. I researched it."

"People have been searching for the entrance to Slytherin's Chamber for hundreds of years…"

"Guess none of them were lookin' in the right places, huh?" Harry grinned.

"Apparently not," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Someday, we must certainly compare our sources of information."

"I look forward to it, sir." Dumbledore and Harry then turned their conversation to other matters, such as how Harry was doing in his classes and his continuing occlumency lessons with Professor Snape. When the headmaster finally dismissed Harry, Harry paused for a moment near the door. "Sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I was wondering just why none of the DADA profs last for more than a year? I mean, Percy said how he's had a different prof every year, and how in his first year, there were three professors…?"

Albus smiled sadly at Harry. "The position was cursed shortly after my appointment to the headmaster position."

"Oh… In that case, why not just name the class something else?"

"An intriguing question, Harry. I shall have that looked into…"

"Lemme know how it goes, sir," Harry said, ducking out of the office and hurrying towards the Great Hall for lunch.

During the meal, he filled in his friends on what happened that morning and asked Hermione about her research regarding Lockhart. The question lead to a rant from the girl about how the teacher was a complete and utter fraud – almost as though Harry hadn't pointed out that fact some months earlier – and how he shouldn't be teaching a class he knew nothing about. When she was winding up her speech, Oliver Wood spotted Harry on his way out of the hall and hurried over.

"Hey, Brewer. McGonagall have a chance to talk to you yet?"

Harry shook his head, "No, what about?"

"The Board of Governors met last week and approved an addendum to the Hogwarts Charter regarding quidditch regulations. Basically, what it boils down to is that all school quidditch games are to be performed on school-supplied brooms."

Harry sighed, "That's not quite what I had in mind, but it'll have ta do. I'd guess that the brooms the Slytherins are usin' qualify as 'school-supplied?'" Oliver nodded grimly. "Damnit. Are they plannin' on providin' funds ta buy new brooms for the rest of the teams?"

"No." Wood looked bleak, no doubt trying to picture playing the Slytherins on the rickety old brooms that the first-years learned on.

Glaring over at the Slytherin table, at a particular smarmy blonde git, Harry growled, "Du schleimige kleine wurmzerfressene Nachgeburt einer – "

"Mr. Brewer, I believe I warned you last year about your language." Professor McGonagall said from just behind Harry's right shoulder. "However, I agree with your sentiment. Wood, gather the rest of the team and meet me in my office in an hour. Come, Mr. Brewer. I believe we have some things to discuss." Harry stood and cast a pleading glance towards his friends. Their returned expressions clearly stated, 'Sorry, mate. You're on your own.'

Once in McGonagall's office, Harry sighed. "Sorry 'bout that, ma'am. I just thought we had a way around what Malfoy had done."

"As did I, Mr. Brewer. However, though things may appear desolate right now, we are not without options. Donations to the school can be used for many things, and I believe that an appropriately-worded donation would be just what we need in this instance."

"How's that?"

"Well, anonymous donations of funds are placed in the school's general account – they are used most often for things like repairs or other necessaries. A donation from a named person usually goes toward adding things like paintings or statues. There is a loophole in the charter, though, that might help us out here."

"Whacha mean?"

"The rules on donations are lengthy, but I did research the issue, and found that a graduate of Hogwarts can make donations of either goods or funds, provided that they are not employed by the school, nor have any immediate family attending the school at the time of the donation."

Harry brightened considerably. "Sirius!"

"Indeed."

"I'll need ta floo him. Can I do so here, or do I need ta go to Professor Dumbledore's office?"

"I don't have any international powder here," McGonagall replied.

"That's okay. I've got some in my trunk. Be right back." Harry leapt to his feet and rushed up to the tower, grabbed the jar of powder out of his trunk and ran back to McGonagall's office, ignoring the handful of students staring at him as he raced through the common room.

"Catch your breath, Harry," she chided as he made to throw the floo powder onto the flames.

Harry did so, and five minutes later was ensconced in the floo, waiting for his mom to send Sirius over to talk with him. "Hey, Harry. How's it going?"

"Not too horribly, Sirius, but I was wondering if I could ask a favor…" It took Harry about fifteen minutes to describe the situation with the quidditch brooms to his godfather.

When he was done, Sirius laughed, "No problem. I can have something ready in about… oh, six hours or so. Don't worry about it. Now, let me talk to McGonagall, okay?"

Harry nodded and turned the call over to the transfiguration professor. She was still talking when there was a knock on the office door. Harry answered it, and Oliver, Katie, Angelina, Alicia, and the twins filed in, all looking equally grim. Harry smiled reassuringly at each of them as they took seats around the room. A couple of minutes later, Minerva emerged from the call. "It's settled," she smiled at her quidditch team.

"Pardon, ma'am," Alicia said, "but what's settled?"

McGonagall looked to Harry. "My godfather's going to buy new brooms for the quidditch teams and donate them to the school."

This comment was met with roaring applause. Wood interjected, "Do you know what kind?"

Harry shook his head, but the professor replied, "Not as yet, Wood. Mr. Black assured me that he would be by this evening with his donation. I will make sure to book the pitch for you for tomorrow afternoon, though."

Oliver grinned somewhat manically and the team returned to the Tower, pressing Harry for more information all afternoon.

That evening, after dinner, the quidditch team once again assembled in Professor McGonagall's office. Sirius was already there, sitting on a large trunk and grinning.

"Sirius," Harry greeted his godfather with a similar grin. "This is the quidditch team. Oliver Wood, our captain and keeper; Alicia Spinet, Katie Bell, and Angelina Johnson, our chasers; and I think you already met our beaters, Fred and George Weasley."

"That I did, Harry."

"Team, this is my godfather, Sirius Black."

After a round of pleasantries, Sirius hopped off of the trunk and said, "To get down to business, I contacted an old friend who works in the broom industry. After what I heard about the Slytherin team getting the latest Nimbus model, I couldn't resist… Therefore, I present you with the following donation for the remainder of the school teams – twenty-one prototype Firebolts!"

Oliver actually fainted.

The excitement of the new brooms and Oliver's ongoing enthusiasm for all things quidditch managed to seize the majority of Harry's free time for the better part of the next month and a half. The brooms were well-received by all the teams, and the Slytherin team was often found sporting mutinous glares. In early March, the quidditch season picked up once again, and the first match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw was won by an early lucky catch by the Hufflepuff seeker, Cedric Diggory.

A/N2: This is one of those chapters I feel rather insecure about, but my beta assures me that if I rewrite it yet again, she'll do something unspeakable to my closet. I knew I shouldn't've had a beta who knows where I live.