They had had to endure Draco's raving for an entire day, his incessant jibes about Scarhead and Weasel were getting on her nerves so much so that she practically sagged in relief when he had announced to the common room that he was off to bed, dragging the rest pos the boys with him. Blaise and Theo looked at her for help, but the three girls were already running back to their own dormitories, scared that Draco would change his mind and come back for another round of Potter slander.
It seems the Slytherins were once again the last to know the gossip for the morning, although this time, it wasn't It wasn't the latest break up or the latest tryst discovered by Filch in a broom closet, no. Today, the Great Hall was filled with somber whispers and stolen glances at the Gryffindor table. Colin Creevy, the annoying Muggleborn boy who had asked Potter for a signed photograph, had been petrified the night before. Hermione was filled with a sense of dread. Draco had been right. She turned to look at him, but even though he had won the argument, he didn't look triumphant. Instead, a blank look had taken place on the boy's face. She saw something flash in the boy's eyes - was that guilt? It seemed as though their resident blood purist was battling with his conscience. Maybe there was hope for him after all.
She had gone to library directly after breakfast, wanting to see if she could find anything on the Chamber of Secrets. So far, she only knew what Daphne had told her, and what Draco said about it being opened once, fifty years ago.
Upon flipping through book after book of myths and legends and mythical creatures, even biographies of Salazar Slytherin, she had found close to nothing. The books that had mentioned it only had a short article about the Chamber, and most of what was written, she already knew.
Hermione stood, sending all the books back to the shelves and left the library early that night, with a respectful nod to Madam Pince. She made her way to the dungeons, deep in thought.
"Umph!" Hermione rubbed her head, where she had collided with someone who was now on the floor. They were in the first floor corridor, near the Great Hall.
"Neville?" said Hermione, looking at the boy who had flushed in embarrassment.
"Er, sorry. Didn't see you there Hermione." he mumbled.
"It's alright, watch your step next time." she said with a smile, watching him scamper off. Pausing to wonder why he had been there so late at night. Thinking that he might've just left something during dinner, she walked away, eager to get a good night's rest.
"You're supposed to stir it four times, then anti-clockwise, but Papa told me to do that, and add another clockwise stir but lower the heat for only ten seconds before completing it." Hermione told Theo.
He did as he was told, following Hermione's movements on his own potion. Both of their brews turned a deep emerald green and thickened perfectly. They waved their wands and put the flames out, bringing a lid over each of their cauldrons, finishing ahead of the rest of the class.
"Your father's a saint." Theo said to her.
"I know — " she was interrupted by an loud bang. Her first instinct was to duck for cover, like her father taught her whenever a potion went awry. She was the only one of the Slytherins who had been saved from getting splashed with Swelling Solution.
"Oh, Morgana, Theo." she said with worry after she had gotten up. The boy's ear was three times its normal size and was weighing down once side of his head so he had to lean it one way. She look, seeing the other students in a similar state. Professor Snape was hurriedly administering Deflating Draught to those who had been affected. When everyone was back to normal, the professor swept over to the cauldron that had caused the explosion and fished out what looked like the charred body of a used firework.
"Who do you think did it?' whispered Daphne when class had been dismissed.
"It was Potter." said Draco, whose nose was nose back to its normal size.
"You always say it's Potter." Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
"That's because it always is him!" he said pointedly.
A week later, Snape still hadn't found the culprit, but the incident had been forgotten by most of the students. Now, they were busy waiting excitedly in the Great Hall for the first Dueling Club meeting. Almost the entire school had shown up, and students were pushing others around to get to the front of the golden stage.
The stage, which had been empty a moment ago, now had a smiling Lockhart in plum robes swooshing about, with a glowering Professor Snape standing behind him.
"Lockhart's teaching us?" she whispered in disbelief. "What's he going to do? Hex himself?"
"You give him too much credit, Hermione." Blaise snickered. "We don't even know if he can throw a hex."
The Slytherins laughed cruelly at the joke, and they all turned to glare at the professor, as if challenging him to give it his best shot. They erupted in laughter once again, some of them even cheering for their head of house, when Snape disarmed the other professor with a quick flick of the wand, sending the other man flying backwards in a burst of scarlet light.
The two professors then proceeded to pair them up, she got partnered off with Parvati Patil, from Gryffindor, who was sending her a glare. Hermione only raised her brow at the girl. Draco had been partnered with Potter, and was now smirking at the other boy, Daphne was paired with a short Hufflepuff girl, and was staring her down.
All the students bowed when instructed. "Now, cast your charms to disarm — and disarm only — when I count to three. One … two … three!"
Hermione had swung her wand so quickly that she shot a quick "Langlock!" at her opponent, making her unable to say the words to disarm her.
"Expelliarmus!" she yelled, and Patil's wand tore out of her hand and into Hermione's. The other girl looked livid at being unable to speak.
"Stop! I said disarm only!" Lockhart was shouting. She turned to look at what was causing the commotion. It seemed that Potter and Draco had done more than just disarm, because Draco was on the floor in giggles while Potter had suddenly broke into a rapid dance.
"Finite Incantatem!" Snape shouted, taking charge of the situation. The two boys quickly regained their senses. The rest of the class was in a state, Neville and a Hufflepuff boy were on the floor, Weasley was apologizing profusely to another Gryffindor, but it was Millie Bulstrode who stole the show — she had Lavender brown whimpering in pain, trapped in a headlock. It took both Weasley and Potter to pry Millie off of the other girl, who was looking as though she was about to burst into tears.
"I think now would be a perfect time to teach you how to deflect spells." Lockhart said. "Now, Longbottom, Finch-Fletchley, why don't you step up —"
Snape intervened immediately. "Malfoy and Potter would make a better example, Professor Lockhart." he said, his lips curling.
Draco and Potter stepped onto the stage, Potter going to Lockhart, and Draco to Snape, who quickly whispered something into the boy's ear, making Draco smirk. Lockhart seemed to be teaching Potter how to do a wand movement, only succeeding in dropping his wand. Hermione stalled down a laugh.
The two boys bowed, and when Lockhart shouted go, Draco raised his wand quickly, and bellowed "Serpensortia!"
A long black snake exploded from the tip of his wand, falling on the floor, ready to strike. The rest of the class backed away in alarm.
"Don't worry, Potter." Snape said, with thinly veiled delight in his eyes. "I'll get rid of it —"
"Allow me!" Lockhart interrupted, flicking his wand before Snape could protest. There was a loud bang and the snake flew into the air, landing with a thud. Angered, it slithered towards Finch-Fletchley, aiming to strike.
Someone screamed from behind her. She waited for the snake to strike — but it never did. A loud hissing sound came from the other side of the room — from … Potter?
The snake had retreated, and was now looking straight at the dark head boy. Hermione looked on with shock.
"What do you think you're playing at?" shouted Finch-Fletchley, and stormed out of the Hall.
The Slytherins regrouped quickly, and hurried out of the hall, whispering furiously among themselves.
"Potter's a fucking Parselmouth?" Draco hissed, as they rounded a corner.
"Where the hell did that come from?" Pansy asked.
"I bloody knew he was hiding something." said Blaise.
"Do you think he's the Heir of Slytherin?" Goyle said.
They all stopped in their tracks, turning to look at Greg, then at each other.
"No." said Blaise.
"Of course, not." huffed Draco.
"It can't be." Pansy rationalized.
"Or could it?" wondered Theo.
"I'm writing to my father." Draco announced, hurrying into the passage to their common room.
"I am, too." said Theo.
"I'm going to write to my grand-papa." Hermione said, and the group separated, each composing their own letters, filled with questions about Parseltongue and the Chamber, and Salazar Slytherin.
The reply to their letters was unanimous. No, Potter couldn't possibly be the Heir. No, they didn't know who opened the Chamber the last time. No, Parseltongue could not be learned, it was a gift.
"Maybe Potter's father opened the Chamber last time?" Blaise theorized.
"No, my father said that James Potter was just a few years below him at Hogwarts, and that wasn't a long time ago." Draco said.
"His grandfather then?" he tried again.
"No, my grand-pere went to school with his grandfather, and that was too long ago." said Hermione.
"So it can't be him." Daphne said. "He couldn't have opened the Chamber of Secrets."
"No, couldn't." Hermione agreed, though something didn't quite feel right.
Out of nowhere, Pansy jumped out of her seat on one of the large cushions, shrieking, and pointing. They followed where she was pointing, only to find a few spiders slipping through a crack in the wall.
"Bloody hell, Pans, they're just spiders." said Blaise, rubbing his ears.
The witch glared at him angrily, and moved to sit next to Draco on the couch.
Hermione walked out of the library in a huff. How could a witch study properly when the table next to her was filled with chattering Hufflepuffs. She had already heard her prescribed amount of "Is Harry Potter the Heir?" for the day, and she wasn't going to let senseless wonderings distract her from her lessons.
She stamped up the stairs, rounding a corner, into a dark corridor. 'Why did I have to choose this passage?' she thought to herself "It's always so dark here.'
She looked around nervously, the torches had been blown out by the cold winds, and the draft in the castle sent goosebumps down her arms. Hermione shivered, and whispered a soft "Lumos.", hastening her steps. She heard a loud thud from somewhere in front of her.
Trying to get out of the dark as soon as possible, she broke into a half-run, only to find Harry potter standing over something — no, someone.
"Potter?" she asked, creeping up to him. He turned sharply, and she could see what he had been looming over. She gasped, "What did you do?" she asked in horror.
Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, his body rigid and stiff, an expression of surprise frozen on his face, and above him, floating, was the Gryffindor Ghost, but instead of his usual spectral white, he had become black and smoky, his expression mirroring that of Finch-Fletchley's.
"Dagworth, it wasn't me!" Potter said frantically, realizing how it must have looked. "I swear to Merlin it wasn't me!"
"That's not how it looks, Potter." she said, fear creeping into her bones. Her wand was still in her hand, the Lumos casting a soft, eerie light upon them.
A door to the left of them opened with a bang, and Peeves the Poltergeist came flying out, screaming, when he saw them. "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAAAAACK!"
Door after door burst open, students and professors flooded out. She still had her wand pointed at Potter. McGonagall came rushing to the scene, her class trailing behind her, and silenced the corridor with a loud bang from her wand, ordering everyone back to their classes. MacMillan, the Hufflepuff who had been yammering in the library arrived, panting, took one look at the frozen boy, and yelled, "Caught in the act!", pointing at Potter.
"Enough, MacMillan!" said McGonagall sharply.
"Professor, I saw him!" said Hermione. "Potter was standing over him!"
"Miss Dagworth-Granger, save your accusations for later." the professor said, before barking out orders. Justin Finch-Fletchley was carted up to the hospital wing, and MacMillan was instructed to waft the ghost up the stairs with a large fan the Transfiguration professor conjured out of thin air.
"Potter, Dagworth-Granger, this way." she said, when they were the only ones remaining in the corridor.
"Professor, I swear I didn't —" Potter started to say.
"This is out of my hands, Potter." said McGonagall curtly.
She led them around the corner, stopping in front of a large stone gargoyle.
"Lemon drop!" said Professor McGonagall. The gargoyle sprang to life, hopping aside as the wall behind him separated to reveal a spiral staircase. They stepped onto it, rising upwards in circles, until a large wooden door with a griffin shaped brass knocker appeared. Dumbledore's quarters.
The door opened silently when Professor McGonagall rapped on it with the knocker, allowing them entry. The professor ordered them to wait, and left, leaving them to observe their surroundings. Potter moved next to her, he was walking quietly around the large claw-footed desk, and lifted a hat off one of the shelves. Was that the Sorting Hat?
"Potter," hissed Hermione. "we aren't supposed to touch anything."
The boy ignored her, and raised the had to his head. He seemed to be having a conversation with the hat. Hermione looked on in confusion. What is he doing?, she wondered to herself. She rolled her eyes at the odd boy, and looked around. Dumbledore's office was filled with several odd things, little instruments spinning on table tops, once in a while emitting a puff of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of witches and wizards, old headmasters and headmistresses, snoozing in the frames.
Potter had taken the Sorting Hat off, and placed it back on the shelf, backing away. A strange gagging sound filled the room, and they both turned to find out where it was coming from. A phoenix stood on top of a golden perch, looking old and sickly. A couple of feathers fell off from his wings, and out of nowhere, it burst into flames.
Hermione took a step forward curiously, she had never seen a phoenix before, only read about them in books, and to see one on a Burning Day was fascinating. The bird gave a loud shriek, and then the fire died, leaving behind a pile of ash on the floor.
The office door opened, and Dumbledore came in looking somber.
"Professor," Potter gasped. "Your bird — I couldn't do anything — he caught on fire —"
Dumbledore and Hermione both smiled, surprising the boy.
"About time," the Headmaster said. "he's been looking dreadful for days."
Potter just looked at the man, with a tunnel look on his face. Both the professor and Hermione chuckled. The professor turned to look at her with a twinkle in his eye. "Would you care to explain to Harry, Miss Dagworth-Granger?"
She nodded respectfully at the man. "Fawkes is a phoenix, Potter. The burst into flames when it's time to die, and are reborn out of the ashes. Look.."
They all looked down to see a tiny newborn bird pop out of the ashes, chirping happily.
"Shame that you had to see him on a Burning Day," said Dumbledore, taking a seat behind the desk. "He's really very handsome most of the time. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make faithful pets."
Before Dumbledore could address why they were in his office, his door burst open, Hagrid stomping through it, with a dead rooster in his hands.
"It wan' Harry, Professor!" he said urgently. "I was talkin' ter him seconds before that kid was found —"
Dumbledore tried to interject, but the large man kept rambling on.
" — it can't have bin him, I swear it, Professor Dumbledore —"
"Hagrid —" Dumbledore tried to say.
"Yeh've got the wrong boy, sir, I know Harry would never —"
"Hagrid!" Dumbledore almost yelled. "I do not think that Harry attacked all those people."
Hermione snapped her head to face the old professor once again. "But professor, I saw him." she said.
"Did you see him actually petrify Mr Finch-Fletchley?" the professor asked. "Did you catch Harry in the act, Miss Dagworth-Granger?"
"Well, no. But—" said Hermione.
"Do you think, that Harry, a second year, like yourself, has the power to petrify an individual?" her professor pushed. "Do you believe that he would intentionally hurt someone, just for their blood?"
She sputtered, the professor had his knowing eyes staring straight at her. "No, of course not, but—"
"Miss Dagworth-Granger, I do not believe that Harry did all these horrible things, and neither should you." Dumbledore said. "Now, if you would so kindly wait outside, I would like to talk to Harry alone."
She left the room, the door slamming shut behind her. She walked down the steps, her head swimming in confusion at what had just happened.