Chapter 26: Making a Plan
The Professors arrived on the scene moments later, and Harry, Ron, and I were immediately escorted to Professor Lockhart's office to discuss things with Professor Dumbledore without the entire school watching.
It wasn't good.
At least Professor Dumbledore thought we were innocent. And Mrs. Norris was only petrified, not dead. She could be cured.
But now the entire school thought we were guilty. And there was something awfully strange about how Harry had been able to find the scene so quickly, following an imaginary voice.
Somehow, these two things had to be connected. Harry heard a voice and somehow it had lead us to the corridor where the attack had taken place. I knew I had heard about the Chamber of Secrets somewhere, but I couldn't remember where. I realized that it was probably in Hogwarts: A History. I tried to remember something about it, but I couldn't.
When we got back to the dormitories, I immediately checked my trunk, but my worry was only confirmed. I had had to buy so many new books for this year that not all my books had fit into my trunk and I had been forced to leave some behind. My copy of Hogwarts: A History was sitting uselessly in my room at home.
The next day, at break, I went straight to the library. I didn't even bother trying to locate the book in the hundreds of shelves that made up the library. I went straight to Madam Pince and asked to take out one of the library's copies of the book, but she informed me that they had all been checked out the night before – while Harry, Ron and I were stuck in Lockhart's office – and that there was a two week waiting list.
I began searching through tons of other library books in the hopes that I could find some reference to the Chamber of Secrets, at least to jog my memory, as I knew I had read about it before, but none of the other books in the library were helpful. Nevertheless, I started spent all my free time reading in the library, much to Harry and Ron's annoyance.
On Wednesday, we had History of Magic. Professor Binns was giving a lecture about the International Warlock Convention of 1289, and for the first time, I found that I was unable to pay attention and take good notes. I tried my best to focus on the lecture, but I found that my mind kept wandering off to wondering about the legend of the Chamber of Secrets.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I decided that if any teacher was going to be willing to tell us the legend, it would be Professor Binns. Since he's a ghost, and he doesn't really interact with the rest of the faculty, or really any of the living world outside of the classroom, it was likely that he didn't even know about the message on the wall or Filch's cat, and he would probably be open to telling the story.
I raised my hand and waited for Professor Binns to notice me. As the other students began to notice my hand was up, they began staring at me quite openly. Nobody ever raised their hand in History of Magic, and I felt like I was putting on quite a show. Finally, Professor Binns looked up randomly and saw my hand.
When I posed my question, a number of students jumped, suddenly awake and at attention. Neville almost fell to the ground. If Professor Binns consented, it would be his most popular lecture of the year.
He declined, insisting that the Chamber of Secrets wasn't history, but myth. But, being the stubborn person that I am, I refused to let him off so easily. I shot my hand right back up into the air and argued until he conceded to tell us the story.
Much of it was familiar to me. I could recall that I'd definitely read about it before, but the details were still fuzzy. It was a story that I remembered glossing over the first time reading about it because it seemed too fantastical. I hadn't imagined that a secret monster could be lurking in the school without the teachers having found it by now. But in the light of recent events, I wasn't so sure.
That night in the common room, all any of us could think about was the chamber of secrets. Ron was trying to do his Charms homework, but he was so distracted that he ended up setting his essay on fire.
Harry and Ron seemed convinced that Malfoy was behind everything. I was less convinced, seeing as how he was only a second-year student, and that their suspicions were biased due to their hatred of him. It wasn't that I didn't think he would be a likely culprit, just that he was awfully young when there were so many other possible culprits.
There was however, once foolproof way to find out whether it was Malfoy or not. It was something that had been sitting in the back of my mind since Professor Snape's lecture on beautification potions. If we brewed a Polyjuice potion and impersonated Malfoy's friends, we might be able to get a confession out of him. And if it wasn't Malfoy, maybe we could learn something else useful anyway in their common room: a clue or something to lead us to the right person.
Getting the book with the recipe for the potion was easy enough. All had to do was charm Professor Lockhart into signing a permission slip for us, so I laid the compliments on thick.
As soon as we had it, we headed straight for the library. Madam Pince was a little suspicious, but with the signed slip, there wasn't much for her to say, and from there we took the book straight to the girl's bathroom on the second floor.
Since this was Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, it was generally empty as students tended to avoid it. I had decided that this would make it the ideal location to brew the potion; as we wouldn't be found out, and surely Myrtle wouldn't tell.
When we got there, I pulled Moste Potente Potions out of my bag and opened it to the page for the Polyjuice Potion. I began to read the directions and discovered that it was going to be far more difficult than the Beautification Potion. I began to read the list of ingredients, hoping we would be able to find them all, and I found I was muttering to myself. The first few ingredients seemed like they would be easy enough to get. But there were other ingredients that I had no idea where to get. Powdered horn of a Bicorn and shredded skin on a Boomslang were not very commonly found ingredients. My eyes fell to the last ingredient, and I must have said it out loud, because Ron freaked out.
I studied the recipe a little while longer and began to make a plan. I would have to do most of the brewing myself, as Harry and Ron were horrible at potions. This was not a potion to get wrong.
I returned to the second-floor bathroom early the next morning with my cauldron and some supplies. The sooner we got started on this, the better. I didn't bother Harry or Ron, as Harry had a Quidditch game that day and needed his rest. And besides, they wouldn't have been a load of help anyway.
"What's that you're doing?" Myrtle asked curiously as I began to get myself set up. "Brewing that secret illegal potion, you were talking about yesterday?"
"That's none of your business, Myrtle," I insisted as I measured out the correct amount of water for the base of my potion and poured it into my cauldron.
"What goes on in my bathroom is most certainly my business," Myrtle insisted. "Or do you want me to go upstairs and let Professor McGonagall know what you're up to in here?"
I sighed. The benefit of doing this in Myrtle's bathroom was of course that nobody ever used these bathrooms and we'd never be found out. The downside was that Myrtle knew exactly what we were doing.
"Listen Myrtle," I said slowly. "This potion is really important. Not just to me, but to the whole school if we accomplish what we're trying to do. And I would really appreciate your discretion in this matter."
"I don't know," Myrtle said, pretending to think about it. "It could be really annoying having you in here every day doing – whatever it is you're going to be doing. And what if the potion smells funny? I don't want to be smelling some foul concoction all day long."
"You can't smell anymore, Myrtle," I reminded her. In death, she'd lost three of her five senses: touch, taste, and smell. All that was left was sight and sound. "And won't it be nice to have visitors? It must get awfully lonely in here all alone every day."
"Visitors?" Myrtle perked up at that. "So it won't be just you?"
I tried not to be offended that Myrtle disliked my company. I disliked hers, after all.
"Well, I'm sure Harry and Ron will be in here quite a bit too," I informed her. Though I planned to do the actual brewing myself, I expected them to help out regardless.
If it weren't for the fact that she was no longer physically capable of the action, I would have said that Myrtle blushed at that.
"Oh, well alright then," she agreed. "I guess that's alright."
"You won't mind having boys coming in here?" I asked, just to make sure.
"Oh no," Myrtle practically giggled. "Tell them they can visit me anytime they want."
I nodded, and as Myrtle retreated to her cubicle, I got started on the potion, chopping and measuring the initial ingredients and adding them to the water.
It took close to an hour to get the base finished and simmering. I lit a very low fire under the cauldron and left it sitting there, confident that the fire was controlled, and then headed down to the Quidditch pitch to watch Harry's game.
