A/N: Now we're finally using the Polyjuice in the dorm. Since I was uniformed of recent events about Nearly Headless Nick, that part won't be included. Anyway, lets continue.
Now because of the recent demise of Nearly Headless Nick and Justin Finch Fletchley, people were now believing that it was some kind of creature that was behind these attacks, to which I could agree with. Any spells that a wizard or which could cast would just go right through him. No way it would be caused by a person. Sadly, some idiots didn't realize Harry couldn't have done this. Now they believe that Harry was controlling the monster. Of course, Fred and George found this funny. Therefore, it was made into a big joke.
"Make way for the Heir of Slytherin," they both shouted down the corridor in front of Harry. "Seriously evil wizard coming through." I had to stifle a laugh at how exaggerated they both were acting. Percy, didn't find funny though. And I thought I had the worse sense of humor.
"It is not a laughing matter," he said to them coldly.
"Oh, get out of the way Percy," Fred said. "Harry's in a hurry."
"Yeah, he's off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant," George said, chuckling. To this I started laughing silently at this while shaking my head. These 2 could make a funeral happy.
After the Christmas Feast, we then began preparing our plan to get the last thing we needed. Crabbe and Goyle's hairs.
"Crabbe and Goyle pig out longer at the feast than anyone else. This feast should be no exception. We can catch them in the Hall when they're heading back to the common room, knock them out, stuff them in a closet, and steal some hairs off them," I explained to everyone.
"How long can you guarantee they'll be out?" Hermione asked me.
"At the least? I give us about 3 hours. Plenty of time. I'm going to hate having to listen to Malfoy go on about how much he hates us and how I should go back to where I came from and all that bullshit," I said moodily.
"Me too. But we'll grit our teeth," Harry said in a determined voice.
"I wouldn't fancy having to taste something that came from Crabbe or Goyle," Ron said. "I wouldn't be surprised if it tastes like pure bogies."
"Don't jinx it Ron," I said, my eyes flying to Crabbe and Goyle rising to their feet and grabbing as many cakes as they could on the way out. "That's our cue. Harry, follow me. Ron, you ought to head back to the common room. Hermione, just wait for us in the bathroom."
"Gotcha," Ron said, getting up with Hermione and walking out.
"Let's go," I said, nudging Harry before getting up and walking out of the Hall. Harry followed behind me and I gestured him to go behind a suit of armor.
We hurried behind it before Crabbe and Goyle left the Hall. When they walked past, me and Harry snuck up behind Crabbe and Goyle before swiftly striking them in the neck and knocking them to the floor instantly.
"Nice work. So you have learned," I said, patting him on the back in a proud manner. Harry smiled.
"I learned from the best of the best. Now lets get them in the closet," he said after plucking hairs and shoes from both of them. I picked them up with one hand and carried them each on their shoulders before throwing them in the closet and closing the door.
We then headed toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and went into separate stalls to change out of our original robes, which left us completely nude.
"Hermione we got the hairs. And before you-"
Before Harry could finish his sentence, Hermione had opened the door and went a deep red at the sight of us both naked.
"Maybe we should've mentioned this first," I said calmly as soon as Hermione immediately went back into the stalls and tossed the robes over the door.
"Maybe we should've," Harry said, just as bright a red as Hermione had been. "How are you unfazed by that?"
"You're both way to young for me too be embarrassed in the first place. Even then, I still wouldn't care, because after you've killed people in more ways than you can count, it's kind of hard to be shy about anything really," I told him in an even voice.
"Lucky you," Harry said as he changed into Goyle's robes. I began to changing into Crabbe's robes and they were a little too tight for me. It's the price you pay for being buff as hell. Though I'm amazed I could get them on at all.
"We're clothed. You can open the door," Harry told Hermione.
She opened the door, changed into Millicent's robe already. Their robes fit Harry and Hermione like they were gigantic Christmas sacks. It was a little comical to honest.
Hermione then handed us glasses filled with a mud-like substance.
"Add the hairs," she told us. I dropped Crabbe's hair in mine and it turned into a dark, murky brown. Goyle's was worse. It looked like straight boogers. I shook my head, knowing Ron had jinxed Harry.
"Drink up," Hermione said, downing hers. I followed right after her and downed mine in one big gulp. It tasted like my mom's first attempt at cabbage. (Don't ask)
"I think I'm going to be sick," Hermione said, running into a stall quickly.
Harry suddenly dropped his glass while going into a coughing fit. I dropped my glass as well and felt like my insides had snakes squirming around in them.
Next, my skin began to bubble like boiled water before beginning to morph into Crabbe, which was very unsettling. Then it stopped.
I knew the transformation had settled in, and I could tell. I couldn't move nowhere near as fast as I used to be, nor was I as strong. Even though my mind was the same, I didn't feel as smart either. This is what it's like to be Crabbe. I miss my old body already.
"How do you even manage to stay in the shape that you do?" Harry asked me in Goyle's low, raspy voice. "You were in Crabbe's robes, and even then the robes were too tight for you. I could tell.
"Quite simply put, grueling training regimens along with muscle, neural, and bone strengtheners for extra body growth and body density. This way, my muscles and bones are so dense and strong that even a high powered sniper round can barely pierce the skin. A knife puts a scrape that I would get if I scratched my fingernails on it. Though magic is a rogue element, and I have no idea how much damage the spell would do," I explained to him, which sounded outright weird in Crabbe's grunting voice. It sounded... intelligent. Which was unnerving.
"Weird to hear Crabbe say it, but whatever. Hermione, you coming?" Harry said as we both began putting on Crabbe and Goyle's shoes. They stunk, which was to be expected, but these fools couldn't clean themselves for once?
"I - I don't think I'm going to come after all. You go on without me," Hermione said in a high-pitched voice. That was strange. Millicent Bulstrode had more testosterone than some males.
But I had to get back to the matter at hand. I placed a hand on Harry's shoulder to get his attention away from Hermione.
"We need to go. Our hour's running down," I said, walking out of the bathroom. I looked back at Harry who seemed to hesitant, but willing.
"Do you think something went bad?" Harry asked me.
"I know something went bad. But if it was something deadly, she would've let us know. Just stay focused. Just act like you're devoid of a brain when we get around Malfoy. Pay no attention to anyone unless they address you. And when they do, give them a blank look," I explained to Harry.
"You sure know a lot about them," Harry told me.
"I always survey my opponents. I remember every little detail in case it comes in handy. It's why I'm a master of disguise. And that's not a brag. It's a fact," I told Harry without adjusting the look on my face as we walked through the corridor.
We had no idea where the Slytherin common rooms and Harry noticed a girl with curly hair emerging from an entrance.
"Maybe we can ask her," he said pointing. I almost face palmed if it wasn't so out of character for Crabbe.
"Look at her House emblem," I told Harry. He noticed it was a Ravenclaw emblem and immediately went silent in embarrassment.
We continued forward and was hoping the figure emerging from the corridor was a Slytherin. Bad luck. It was Percy.
He immediately spotted us and addressed us in an commanding tone.
"Why are you not in your dormitories? It's not safe to go wandering around dark corridors these days," he told us sternly.
"You are," I told him in a challenging grunt.
"I," Percy said, drawing himself up. "am a prefect. Nothing's about to attack me."
The real Crabbe would have nothing to say to that, so I remained silent.
"It's Crabbe, isn't it?" Percy asked me, before someone called out to 'us.'
"There you are," Draco Malfoy drawled out to us. "Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I've been looking for you."
Malfoy then glanced witheringly at Percy. Me and Harry immediately went to his side as if that was our cue and began to stare at Percy with a defiant facial expression.
"And what are you doing down here, Weasley?" he sneered.
Percy looked outraged.
"You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect!" he said. "I don't like your attitude!"
Malfoy sneered and motioned for us to follow him. We hurried after Malfoy, who said as we turned the next passageway, "That Peter Weasley-"
"What?" Harry said in a lost grunt.
"I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. A I bet I know what he's up to. He think he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single-handed."
Me and Harry gave off 2 short chuckles. It's all they would likely have the brain capacity to do.
Malfoy stopped at a stretch of bare, damp stone wall. I'm guessing this was the entrance to the common room.
"What's the new password again?" he asked me.
"Uhhh..." I said, lost as Crabbe would normally sound. Only this time, it was genuine. I only had a guess as to what possible passwords were, but they were only guesses.
"Oh, yeah - Pureblood!" Malfoy exclaimed, not listening to me and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open. Malfoy marched through it, us following while I shook my head behind Malfoy's back. That's one guess that would've been right. Now we could finally get to the questioning.
The Slytherin common actually... wasn't all that bad. It had a low, underground room with rough stone walls and round, greenish lamps hanging from the ceiling by chains. A fire was crackling under a carved mantelpiece and several Slytherin's were hiding behind high-backed chairs. I'm sure if I wouldn't hospitalize every Slytherin here, the Hat would've put me here, which perhaps, would not have been all that bad. To be honest, I valued everything the Houses had to offer. Knowledge and wisdom. Loyalty and determination. Bravery and chivalry. Cunning and ambition. The Hat did see me as a potential candidate for every House except Hufflepuff.
"I can't stand the Weasleys. I can't believe the gall of Arthur Weasley. He loves Muggles so much, he ought to snap his wand and go join them. Even the actual Muggle acts more wizard than him. What a disgrace," Malfoy said, shaking his head in disgust. The guy was so prejudiced, it was ridiculous. But we ignored his jibe at the Weasleys and made our faces into an upset expression.
"I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet," he went on thoughtfully. "I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if he doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns. A decent headmaster would never let slime like that Creevey in."
Malfoy started taking pictures with an imaginary camera and did a cruel but accurate impression of Colin: "'Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?"'
I laughed genuinely for the first time in here. That was actually pretty damn funny. Regardless of whether he didn't deserve to be teased like this, he was too damn clingy to Harry for his own good. But then Malfoy suddenly changed the subject.
"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," said Malfoy slowly. "He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped up Granger Mudblood. And people think he's Slytherin's heir!"
We and Harry sat here waiting for him to say it...
"I wish I knew who it was," Malfoy said petulantly. "I could help them." Dammit. Dead end here.
"You must have some idea who's behind it all..." Harry said.
"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?" Malfoy snapped. "And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing - last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them is killed this time ... I hope it's Granger," he said with relish.
I saw that Harry clenched his fists and was severely restraining himself from snapping Malfoy's neck. I nudged him to snap out of it.
"Do you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?" I asked him.
"Oh, yeah ... whoever it was expelled," Malfoy said. "They're probably still in Azkaban."
"Azkaban?" said Harry, puzzled.
"Azkaban - the wizard prison, Goyle," said Malfoy, looking at him in disbelief "Honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going backward."
I had to restrain myself from laughing on that one. Malfoy's a lot funnier when he's not actually trying or insulting us. Which is weird.
"Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"
Harry tried to force Goyle's dull face into a look of concern, which looked sort of half-assed, but it was good enough for Malfoy.
"Yeah. . ." Malfoy said. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor -"
I suddenly gripped Harry's arm and mouthed the word 'Scar' to him. Our hour was obviously up and we needed to go. NOW.
Without a word, we rushed out of the common room. He would never suspect us of making Polyjuice Potion to disguise ourselves as Crabbe and Goyle. Though we got the info we wanted. Or rather, info weren't exactly hoping for.
"Well, it wasn't a complete waste of time," Harry said, closing the bathroom door behind us. "I know we still haven't found out who's doing the attacks, but whatever's under the Malfoys' drawing room, I'm sure the Ministry will be very happy to know."
"We'll tell Ron to write his dad. But for now, we need to get to bed,. Hermione? You still here?" I called out.
"Go away!" Hermione squeaked. I frowned. This did not sound good. But Moaning Myrtle had floated down with a happy look on her face.
"Ooooooh, wait till you see," she said. "It's awful-"
They heard the lock slide back and Hermione emerged, sobbing, her robes pulled up over her head.
"What's the matter?" I asked in a concerned tone. "Did you get an animal hair?"
"Why would an animal hair matter?" Harry asked me.
I grabbed Hermione's robes off her head and it revealed that Hermione had gone undergone a cat transformation.
"This is why!" Hermione exclaimed in a hysterical voice. "It was a c-cat hair!" M-Millicent Bulstrode m-must have a cat! And the p-potion isn't supposed to be used for animal transformations!"
"Oh..." Harry trailed off.
"You'll be teased something dreadful," said Myrtle happily.
"You need to shut the hell up," Harry snapped at Myrtle, making her float off, wailing. "It's okay, Hermione. We'll take you up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions..."
"This is a different situation. I'm sure none of her students have shown up being part cat," I told him.
"You hold a point there, but hopefully we this will not be the case. Come on Hermione," Harry said in a comforting tone, placing an arm around her shoulder and leading her out of the bathroom. What a day.
A/N: Think we're done? Nope. Gonna run this chapter over longer. You're welcome.
Hermione was still in the hospital wing for several weeks. People thought she had been attacked, which wasn't unlikely considering everything that had happened, but it didn't help that Madam Pomfrey had drawn up the curtains around her, which kind of solidified everyone's theory.
We went to visit her every evening. When the new term started, we brought her each day's homework.
"If I'd sprouted whiskers, I'd take a break from work," said Ron, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione's bedside table one evening.
"Of course you would," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Don't be silly, Ron, I've got to keep up," said Hermione briskly. Her spirits were greatly improved by the fact that all the hair had gone from her face and her eyes were turning slowly back to brown. "I don't suppose you've got any new leads?" she added in a whisper, so that Madam Pomfrey couldn't hear her.
"Nothing," said Harry gloomily.
"I was so sure it was Malfoy," said Ron, for about the hundredth time.
"We get it. You were so sure. What's that?" I asked Hermione. spotting something gold sticking out from under her pillow.
"Just a get well card," said Hermione hastily, trying to poke it out of sight, but Ron was too quick for her. He pulled it out, flicked it open, and read aloud:
"To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award. "
Ron looked up at Hermione, disgusted.
"You sleep with this under your pillow?" he accused.
"I know you admire him, but you should know he's a narcissist asshole," I told her.
"That's because his feats are plenty impressive to admire," Hermione defended.
"And we've seen that kind of skill, when?" I asked her.
But Hermione was spared answering by Madam Pomfrey sweeping over with her evening dose of medicine.
"Is Lockhart the smarmiest bloke you've ever met, or what?" Ron said to us as we left the hospital wing and started up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower. We had so much homework from Snape that it would take us years to finish it. At least it is when you're not Harry and me. Harry had been diligent with his training, so I did his homework for him after I finished it in a few days. But while we were relaxing, we heard an angry outburst from the floor above reached their ears.
"That's Filch," Harry muttered as we hurried up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening hard.
"Wonder what the hell's wrong with him now?" I asked.
"You don't think someone else's been attacked?" said Ron tensely.
"Dunno," I said worriedly.
We stood still and silent, our heads inclined toward Flich's voice, which sounded quite hysterical.
"...even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore -"
His footsteps receded along the out-of-sight corridor and we heard him slam a door. We decided to trace where he had been yelling.
Filch had clearly been manning his usual lookout post: The spot where Mrs. Norris had been attacked. Now we know what Filch was yelling about. A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Now that Filch had stopped shouting, we could hear Myrtle's wails echoing off the bathroom walls.
"Now what's up with her?" said Ron.
"Only one way to find out," I said, walking inside the bathroom slowly.
Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, louder and harder than ever before. She seemed to be hiding down her usual toilet. It was dark in the bathroom because the candles had been extinguished in the great rush of water that had left both walls and floor soaking wet.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I asked her.
"What?" Myrtle said, turning around and facing us. "Come to throw something else at me?"
"Why would we through something at you? I could think of more pointless things to do with my time," I said dryly.
"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me..."
"But it can't hurt you if someone throws something at you," said Harry, reasonably. "I mean, it'd just go right through you, wouldn't it?"
He had said the wrong thing. Myrtle puffed herself up and shrieked, "Let's all throw books at Myrtle, because she can't feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha, ha, ha! What a lovely game, I don't think!"
"You are the most oversensitive person I have ever met. And trust me, I've met quite a few of them," I told her in a disbelieving voice. "Someone obviously wanted to get rid of that book. Where is it?"
"It's over there, it got washed out..." Myrtle said, pointing under the sink. I went to grab it, but Ron grabbed my shoulder.
"Are you crazy?" said Ron. "It could be dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Harry said, laughing. "Come off it, how could it be dangerous?"
"There are cursed books out there, which could explain why someone would want to get rid of it, but we can't be sure," I said, putting on dragon-hide gloves. They were magically resistant to most items in exchange for being respectively expensive.
"Looks like I'm normal for now. Let's take it back to the common room and take a closer look at it," I said, shaking some of the water out of it and walking back to the common room. As we walked, I turned the book over, looking for anything that would help us find out who owns it.
"T.M. Riddle," I read aloud.
"I know that name ... T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago," Ron told us.
"How do you know that?" I asked him.
"Because Filch made me polish his shield about fifty times in detention," said Ron resentfully. "If you'd wiped slime off a name for an hour, you'd remember it, too."
"I'm sure we would. But that this makes it strange as to why someone tried to flush his diary down a toilet," I said, flipping through the pages. "There's nothing in here. Not a damn thing."
"I wonder why someone wanted to flush it away?" Ron said curiously.
"Your guess is as good as mine at this point. But let's keep it. Might be useful," I said.
"He must've been Muggle-born," said Harry thoughtfully. "To have bought a diary from Vauxhall Road..."
"Or Half-Blood raised Muggle," I added.
As soon as Hermione was out of the hospital wing, minus her cat features, we showed her the diary.
"Oooh, it might have hidden powers," said Hermione enthusiastically, taking the diary and looking at it closely.
"If it has, it's hiding them very well," said Ron. "Maybe it's shy. I don't know why you don't chuck it, Harry."
"Because what's written in it may be hidden. And if we can figure out how to get it open, we can find out what happened the last time the Chamber was opened," I reasoned.
"How do you figure that?" Ron asked.
"Because Riddle did get an award 50 years ago. And the Chamber was opened 50 years ago. Maybe the award was given to him because he caught the Heir of Slytherin," I deduced.
"There's a minor chance that you may be right, but we have to figure out how to find out what was written in his diary first," Harry said.
But Hermione was pulling her wand out of her bag.
"It might be invisible ink!" she whispered.
She tapped the diary three times and said, "Aparecium!"
Nothing happened. Undaunted, Hermione shoved her hand back into her bag and pulled out what appeared to be a bright red eraser.
"It's a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley," she said.
She rubbed hard on January first. Nothing happened.
"I'm telling you, there's nothing to find in there," Ron said. "Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn't be bothered filling it in."
"Then explain why someone wanted to throw it down a toilet then. Now, there's something about this diary that someone didn't want us to see. And we're going to figure out what it," I told him, picking the book back up.
Harry was determined to find out more about Riddle, and so was I for that matter. So the next day at break, we headed for the trophy room to examine Riddle's special award, accompanied by an interested Hermione and a thoroughly unconvinced Ron, who told them he'd seen enough of the trophy room to last him a lifetime. I rolled my eyes, at his negative attitude.
Riddle's burnished gold shield was tucked away in a corner cabinet. It didn't carry details of why it had been given to him ("Good thing, too, or it'd be even bigger and I'd still be polishing it," Ron said, to which I rolled my eyes). However, we did find Riddle's name on an old Medal for Magical Merit, and on a list of old Head Boys.
"He sounds like Percy," said Ron, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Prefect, Head Boy... probably top of every class -"
"You say that like it's a bad thing," said Hermione in a slightly hurt voice.
"It's not. He's upset because that's probably not going to be him," I said, my patience wearing thin of Ron's attitude.
I had likely hit a nerve with Ron, because he didn't want to speak with me for the rest of the day. But it was true. He seemed to resent anything that represented achievement and glory through hard work. Will he ever realize that he can do the same if he, I don't know... tried?!
Inside the castle, the mood had grown more hopeful. There had been no more attacks since those on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, and Madam Pomfrey was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood.
"The moment their acne clears up, they'll be ready for repotting again," we heard her telling Filch kindly one afternoon. "And after that, it won't be long until we're cutting them up and stewing them. You'll have Mrs. Norris back in no time."
Perhaps the Heir of Slytherin had lost his or her nerve what with it getting riskier and riskier to open the Chamber of Secrets, with the school so alert and suspicious. Perhaps the monster, whatever it was, was even now settling itself down to hibernate for another fifty years, which I hoped to God was correct.
Ernie Macmillan didn't take this cheerful view. He was still convinced that Harry was the guilty one, that he had "given himself away" at the Dueling Club, which made me want to break his legs, but given that would lose a bunch of points for us and give me pointless detentions, it was decided that it wasn't a very good idea.
Peeves wasn't helping matters. He kept popping up in the crowded corridors singing "Oh, Potter, you rotter . . ." now with a dance routine to match. I took the liberty of shooting him on sight. After 3 bullet holes which weren't fatal, but painful, he learned to knock off his routine and steer clear of Harry whenever I was near.
I heard from Harry that Lockhart seemed to think he himself had made the attacks stop. Harry overheard him telling Professor McGonagall while the Gryffindors were lining up for Transfiguration. He also had an idea for a morale booster, which what I dreaded what he had planned.
His 'morale booster' happened on Valentine's Day. When we walked down for breakfast that morning, I was horrified by what I saw.
There was so much pink, I thought I would end up vomiting. The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse than that was the heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling and getting all in my food, which I did not like. Ron was looking sick, Hermione giggly.
"What's going on?" Harry asked us when he finally arrived to breakfast.
Ron pointed to the teachers' table, apparently too disgusted to speak. Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. I could see a muscle going in Professor McGonagall's cheek while Snape looked as though someone had just fed him a large beaker of Skele-Gro.
"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all - and it doesn't end here!"
Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.
"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"
Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape looked as if he would show you how to make poison before showing you how to make a love potion.
Valentines began showing up all over classrooms, much to the annoyance of teachers. Much to my horror, some began showing up to me. For once in my life, I was embarrassed by what some of them said.
"If you speak of any of those valentines to me, I will break all of your legs," I threatened all of Transfiguration class once it was over before walking out. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had shit-faced grins on their faces when we walked out.
"Don't you three start," I snapped at them.
"Don't worry we won't. Especially from how bad some of them were," Hermione told us.
"Who would've thought some students would've sent you valentines. About half of the school is scared of you," Ron told me.
"I know. There was a point to that so I didn't end up in shitty situations like that," I told him moodily.
"I figured that. But some people find you a delicious milk chocolate..."
I covered Harry's mouth up quickly all while I was blushing horribly. Ron and Hermione were laughing like crazy at my mortification.
"DON'T. Just don't," I said, letting go of his mouth and walking down the halls.
Paybacks are a bitch once Harry eventually got a valentine in front of a bunch of first years, including Ginny. Worse than that, Malfoy was also approaching the area we were in to listen to Harry's valentine.
Harry did everything he could to get away, but who knew gnomes had iron grips?
Everyone in the hallway was laughing, and Harry did his best to laugh along with everyone else. Which was faker than Nikki Minaj.(I'm sorry. I had to)
"I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!" Malfoy yelled to Ginny.
Ginny covered her face with her hands and ran into class. Ron pulled out his wand, but Harry grabbed it and shook his head, giving him the impression that it wasn't worth it.
"It was Hagrid. Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago," Harry told us.
"No. I can't believe this. Not at all," I said, shaking my head.
"It's what Riddle showed me, and he's the one who stopped the Heir of Slytherin 50 years ago," Harry said.
"Hagrid is loyal to Dumbledore no matter what. There's no way he'd release the monster again. Hagrid knows that this could lead to another death. No, it doesn't make sense. I'd sooner believe Riddle himself did it," I explained to Harry.
"Now hold on right there. The attacks stopped right after Hagrid was caught. How would Riddle be a factor in this?" Ron asked.
"If the attacks stopped right after Hagrid was convicted, there are only one of two ways that could've happened. If it actually was Hagrid, which I doubt. Or if Riddle himself was behind the attacks and needed someone to pin it on. Hagrid being a likely candidate because of his fascination of particularly dangerous creatures," I explained.
"That's half-assed and you know it," Ron told me.
"How about we just ask Hagrid instead of beating around the bush?" Hermione suggested.
"That'd be a cheerful visit," Ron said. "'Hello, Hagrid. Tell us, have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately?"'
"Let's just be direct. Hagrid was obviously involved, so we need to question him," I told everyone.
In the end, we all agreed to question Hagrid. But this needed to be done with discretion, so we would go at night.
The time had come to choose their subjects for the third year, a matter that everyone except Ron was taking seriously.
"It could affect our whole future," Hermione told us as we pored over lists of new subjects, marking them with checks.
"Ancient Runes sounds nice," Harry pondered.
"It is. I love the class, but unfortunately, I learn too quick to have anymore fun with it," I told Harry gloomily.
"Divination and Care of Magical Creatures seem like the easiest out of the bunch," Ron noted.
"Yeah, And also the least useful out of the bunch to use. Harry, if I were you, I'd go with Runes and Arithmancy. At least those you can use to some degree when it comes to a fight," I told him.
"You're really going to listen to the most paranoid person ever?" Ron asked me. I had enough of this guys shit.
"You know what? I'm fucking sick of you. Whenever it comes to what's easier and what's harder, but more rewarding, you always go with what's easiest. And I cannot fucking stand it. The only reason I'm suggesting these classes is because I want him to succeed. Become the best he can be. But you don't care about that, do you?" I snapped at him, my tone growing more and more angry. "I'm glad he met Hermione first, because if he didn't, it would just be a fucking waste of potential with him following your lousy ass. Harry, YOU choose what you want to select. Ron, just shut the hell up!"
There was a loud silence following my words. My face was a perfect image of pissed off. Ron could not make eye contact with me, but as he looked down, I could tell he was angry as well.
"What? Did I hit a nerve? Suck it up, you unmotivated douchebag," I told him. I then stormed off. Man, I'm afraid to think how unprepared Harry would've been when Voldemort returned if I didn't show up. But no time to dwell on that now. I sincerely hope I was right about Hagrid and he's not Slytherin's Heir. Guess I would have to wait until tonight to find out.
A/N: NOW I'm finished with this chapter. Over 6500 words. So there's a long chapter for everyone who likes this sort of thing. Hope you all joined. P.S: This story might end up Ron bashing throughout a lot of moments, but that's because I can't understand how volatile his attitude is a lot times. Plus he's generally unmotivated, lazy, and he seemingly encourages Harry to be the same way. I think he would've been a lot more prepared for the war if Hermione had a chance to make an impression on him first rather than Ron.