Chapter 15 – Wall Messages and Mouse Traps

Author's Note: (talks like Kyle Schwartz from South Park) I'm baaack! (coughs to fix voice) Chapter 15 is up! I've been adjusting the story plan so less of the book is directly cited and different content will appear. The story will now go parallel and occasionally criss-cross with the book, starting Chapter 16. I know I have been doing a slightly sloppy job, but hey! I'm not giving up on this! Thanks to the people who have favorited and followed these two fics!

Author's Note 2 (22/05/2020): The reader Nanettez pointed out a slight mistake of the students during the Transfiguration class referencing the Hufflepuffs and then the Ravenclaws magically appear. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any parts of the franchise. Parts of the second book have been used in this chapter.

"What's going on here? What's going on?"

Attracted no doubt by Malfoy's shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked.

And his popping eyes fell on Harry.

"You!" he screeched. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll — "

"Argus."

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron, and Hermione and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Mr. Rivers"

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster — just upstairs — please feel free — "

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick and Snape.

As they entered Lockhart's darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore laid

Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry, Ron, Andy and Hermione exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching.

The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs. Norris's fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: It was as though he was analyzing the quartet. And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making suggestions.

"It was definitely a curse that killed her — probably the Transmogrifian Torture — I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her. ..."

Snape rolled his eyes at Lockhart's words, knowing that there was no Transmogrifian Torture. Andrew saw the Potions master doing this and grinned discreetly, earning a glare from the Professor. Lockhart's comments were punctuated by Filch's dry, racking sobs. He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs. Norris, his face in his hands. Much as he detested Filch, Harry couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for him, though not nearly as sorry as he felt for himself. If Dumbledore believed Filch, he would be expelled for sure.

Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand but nothing happened: She continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed.

"... I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadougou," said Lockhart, "a series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once. ..."

The photographs of Lockhart on the walls were all nodding in agreement as he talked. One of them had forgotten to remove his hair net.

At last Dumbledore straightened up.

"She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.

"Not dead?" choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris. "But why's she all — all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been Petrified," said Dumbledore ("Ah! I thought so!" said Lockhart, making Ron and Andrew facepalm). "But how, I cannot say…"

"Ask him!" shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Harry.

"No second year could have done this," said Dumbledore firmly. "It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced — "

"He did it, he did it!" Filch spat, his pouchy face purpling. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found — in my office — he knows I'm a — I'm a — " Filch 's face worked horribly. "He knows I'm a Squib!" he finished.

"I never touched Mrs. Norris!" Harry said loudly, uncomfortably aware of everyone looking at him, including all the Lockharts on the walls.

"Rubbish!" snarled Filch. "He saw my Kwikspell letter!"

"If I might speak, Headmaster," said Snape from the shadows, and Harry's sense of foreboding increased; he was sure nothing Snape had to say was going to do him any good. The Potions master's attitude had been subdued by the end of the year, but for some reason, this year he acted a lot more snarky towards him.

"Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it. "But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"

The trio all launched into an explanation about the deathday party until Andrew shushed them and explained in detail. "Harry got invited to Sir Nicholas's deathday party earlier in the week. He extended the invitation to us and we went there. There were hundreds of ghosts, they'll tell you we were there — "

"But why not join the feast afterward?" said Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. "Why go up to that corridor?"

Andrew, Ron and Hermione looked at Harry.

"Because — because — " Harry said, his heart thumping very fast; something told him it would sound very far-fetched if he told them he had been led there by a bodiless voice no one but he could hear, "because we were tired and wanted to go to bed," he said.

"Without any supper?" said Snape, a triumphant smile flickering across his gaunt face. "I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties."

"We weren't hungry," said Ron loudly as his stomach gave a huge rumble.

Snape's nasty smile widened.

"I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," he said.

Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Harry feel as though he were being X-rayed.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said firmly.

"My cat has been Petrified!" he shrieked, his eyes popping. "I want to see some punishment!"

"We will be able to cure her, Argus," said Dumbledore patiently. "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes." The Herbology Mistress nodded at the mention of her name. "As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."

"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep — "

"Excuse me," said Snape icily. "But I believe I am the Potions master at this school. The only qualified people that can successfully concoct such potion is the Headmaster, Madam Pomfrey, myself and Mr. Rivers here."

There was a very awkward pause. Snape never praised a non-Slytherin in public like that before. Lockhart looked tongue-tied.

"You may go," Dumbledore said to the quartet.

They went, as quickly as they could without running. When they were a floor up from Lockhart's office, they turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind them. Harry squinted at his friends' darkened faces.

"D'you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?"

"No," said Ron, without hesitation. "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world."

Something in Ron's voice made Harry ask, "You do believe me, don't you?"

"'Course I do," said Ron quickly. "But — you must admit it's weird..."

"I know it's weird," said Harry. "The whole thing's weird. What was that writing on the wall about? 'The Chamber Has Been Opened'. ... What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know, it rings a sort of bell," said Ron slowly. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once... might've been Bill..."

A clock chimed somewhere.

"Midnight," said Harry. "We'd better get to bed before Snape or Filch comes along and tries to frame us for something else."

For a few days, the school could talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. Harry had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. When Filch wasn't guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like "breathing loudly" and "looking happy."

Ginny Weasley seemed very disturbed by Mrs. Norris's fate. According to Ron, she was a great cat lover.

"But you haven't really got to know Mrs. Norris," Ron told her bracingly. "Honestly, we're much better off without her." Ginny's lip trembled. "Stuff like this doesn't often happen at Hogwarts," Ron assured her. "They'll catch the maniac who did it and have him out of here in no time. I just hope he's got time to Petrify Filch before he's expelled. I'm only joking — " Ron added hastily as Ginny blanched.

The attack had also had an effect on Hermione. It was quite usual for Hermione to spend a lot of time reading, but she was now doing almost nothing else. Nor could Harry and Ron get much response from her when they asked what she was up to, and not until the following Wednesday did they find out.

Harry had been held back in Potions, where Snape had made him stay behind to scrape tubeworms off the desks. After a hurried lunch, he went upstairs to meet Ron in the library, and saw Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Hufflepuff boy from Herbology, coming toward him. Harry had just opened his mouth to say hello when Justin caught sight of him, turned abruptly, and sped off in the opposite direction.

Harry found Ron at the back of the library, measuring his History of Magic homework. Professor Binns had asked for a three-foot-long composition on "The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards."

"I don't believe it, I'm still eight inches short..." said Ron furiously, letting go of his parchment, which sprang back into a roll. "And Hermione's done four feet seven inches and her writing's tiny."

"Where is she?" asked Harry, grabbing the tape measure and unrolling his own homework.

"Somewhere over there with Andrew," said Ron, pointing along the shelves. "Looking for another book. I think she's trying to read the whole library before Christmas and he isn't helping…"

Harry told Ron about Justin Finch-Fletchley running away from him.

"Dunno why you care. I thought he was a bit of an idiot," said Ron, scribbling away, making his writing as large as possible. "All that junk about Lockhart being so great —"

Hermione and Andrew emerged from between the bookshelves.

"… I told you I have my copy. I'll just lend it to you when I search for it in my trunk."

"Fine…" Hermione huffed. She looked irritable and at last seemed ready to talk to them.

"What's with your grumpiness, Hermione?" Ron asked tactlessly.

"All the copies of Hogwarts, A History have been taken out," she said, sitting down next to Harry and Ron. Andrew stood next to Harry. "And there's a two-week waiting list. I wish I hadn't left my copy at home, but I couldn't fit it in my trunk with all the Lockhart books."

"Why do you want it?" said Harry.

"The same reason everyone else wants it," said Hermione, "to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets."

"What's that?" said Harry quickly.

"That's just it. I can't remember," said Hermione, biting her lip. "And I can't find the story anywhere else — "

"Hermione, let me read your composition," said Ron desperately, checking his watch.

"No, I won't," said Hermione, suddenly severe. "You've had ten days to finish it — "

"I only need another two inches, come on — "

The bell rang. Ron and Hermione led the way to History of Magic, bickering, while Andrew went upstairs towards Ancient Runes in the fifth floor.

History of Magic was the dullest subject on their schedule. Professor Binns, who taught it, was their only ghost teacher, and the most exciting thing that ever happened in his classes was his entering the room through the blackboard. Ancient and shriveled, many people said he hadn't noticed he was dead. He had simply got up to teach one day and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staffroom fire; his routine had not varied in the slightest since.

Today was as boring as ever. Professor Binns opened his notes and began to read in a flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class was in a deep stupor, occasionally coming to long enough to copy down a name or date, then falling asleep again.

Just after the class ended, the Gryffindors went towards McGonagall's class. On the way down from the Southern Tower where Binns' classroom was, they found Andrew walking on the stairway above them, in direction towards Charms class.

"Oi, you four! Going to McGonagall's class?", Andrew shouted.

The four Gryffindors nodded. Andrew smiled.

"Okay! Let us talk over dinner! I'm off to Charms class!"

Andrew continued to an unseen hallway. The rest continued towards Transfiguration. Outside the classroom, the Ravenclaw second year contingent was waiting. They readily established themselves in their desks and the whole class whispered about the recent events related to the Chamber of Secrets. At that moment, Professor McGonagall entered the classroom.

"Good afternoon class." The class responded to her scattered. She frowned.

"What has you children all distraught and such?" she huffed, annoyed. The students stopped murmuring and looked at McGonagall abashedly. No one answered the question until Hermione huffed, irritaded, and brought her hand up.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" pointed out Professor McGonagall.

"I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.

"My subject is Transfiguration, not History of Magic, Miss Granger." she said. Hermione's head drooped slightly. The Transfiguration Mistress watched her best student

"Well," said Professor McGonagall slowly, "I suppose that since Cuthbert wouldn't go from his usual teaching methods, I can tell you about it…" The whole classroom snapped into attention. "However, the legend of which you ask about is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale — "

But the whole class was now hanging on Professor McGonagall's every word. She looked dimly at them all, every face turned to hers.

"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see... the Chamber of Secrets..."

"You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago — the precise date is uncertain — by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."

He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued.

"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."

McGonagall took a deep breath and continued.

"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."

"Professor — what exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?"

"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," said the Transfiguration Professor.

The class exchanged nervous looks and started to murmur between them.

"That will do," she said sharply. "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to our Transfiguration class!"

And within five minutes, the class had snapped back into her lesson.

"Today, we will put into practice animated into unanimated transfiguration. For today's practice, you will use one of the animals here." She pointed to the different crates on her desk. "Pick one up and settle down quickly."

The Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws picked up one of the animals, except Ron, who decided to use his pet rat Scabbers. Harry sat next to him with one scrawny lizard, and McGonagall started once again, approaching a bird stand that had a toucan on it.

"As we learned in previous classes, animated to unanimated transfiguration is a bit more complex when the subject is bigger. You have tried to transfigure beetles into buttons, and now we are applying this knowledge to bigger vertebrates. I will show you about this."

McGonagall brandished her wand at the toucan and said: "One, two, and three… Vera Verto." The toucan turned into a perfect glass wine goblet. "To revert the transfiguration, the spell is Erreverto." She demonstrated the spell and the wine goblet returned to be a toucan. "Now, let's see…"

She looked towards Ron, who was slightly fidgeting on his chair. "Mr. Weasley, care to demonstrate?" Ron looked at her doubtfully. He cleared his throat and pronounced the spell.

"Vera Verto!"

Ron had attempted to turn his pet rat, Scabbers, into a goblet.

Scabbers, blast his useless furry little backside, had become a furry, vaguely goblet-shaped monstrosity out of which absolutely no one would have been tempted to drink, and to make matters worse, he still had a tail.

It was moving.

Harry was hiding a smile behind his hand, and Neville holding his laughter. Dean and Seamus weren't even trying to hide, elbowing each other and laughing. Parvati and Lavender were looking with disgust and horror at either Scabbers or him, and Hermione was opening her mouth, no doubt ready to tell him exactly what he'd done wrong.

Which only made it worse that he really thought he'd done everything right this time. He snatched Scabbers off the desk (the base of the goblet had the same texture as a rat's feet) and turned away from Hermione. He decided to try untransfigurate Scabbers to his rat form, using the same spell McGonagall did."

"Erreverto. Erreverto! ERREVERTO!"

His wand was sputtering like crazy and McGonagall sighed. The poor Weasley kid had the lurking suspicion that most of the family's magical talent had been soaked up by his siblings before he was around to get any.

"Careful, Mr. Weasley. I'll fix this quickly. Finite Incantatem!" Nothing happened and thought that it was odd. She tried a more complex pattern and pointed her wand back at Scabbers.

At the end of the flick of her wand, something like a flashbang happened.

What most of Hogwarts learned first on that otherwise unexceptionable day was that Professor McGonagall had big lung power. Professor Flitwick's Ravenclaw/Slytherin third year Charms class was close enough to hear her scream. Just out of the Divination Tower, Sibyl Trelawney snapped out of her sherry-induced funk when she heard the screaming. Out by Hagrid's hut, Professor Kettleburn was presenting the fourth year Care of Magical Creatures class how to tend a Fire Crab but the distraction proved too much and from the crab's behind, a shot of fire hit his arm, burning the prosthesis completely.

Down in the dungeons, Professor Snape turned away from comparing Lee Jordan's Pepper-Up Potion to spoiled cream at what sounded like a woman screaming from the entrance hall. At the second scream, he ordered the class to remain where they were and behave, sweeping out just in time to miss Miles Bletchley suddenly jumping up and yelping as if someone had put a crocodile heart down the back of his robes.

Back at the Transfiguration classroom…

Having taught a particularly rigorous course of magical study to children and teens for quite some time now, Minerva McGonagall had become accustomed to certain things such as students who accidentally turned a frog or a raven into a flock of starlings or a school of strange South American fish (and tried to solve the immediate problem by filling the classroom with two feet of water, neglecting to consider the gap under the door), students who tried to transfigure their noses into a more appealing shape and wound up in the Hospital Wing regrowing their nostrils and much more.

A naked man on a student's desk was something Minerva McGonagall had never had an occasion to get used to. What made it worse was that she recognized this one, and he'd been dead for more than a decade.

"P-P-Peter Pettigrew?!" McGonagall shouted.

The whole Gryffindor and Ravenclaw class were stunned at the sudden appearance of the fat, balding and stumpy man that had appeared on Harry and Ron's desk. The man was slightly confused at the sudden attention he was receiving until he found out he was back as a human! Pettigrew made a run for it.

"STOP THAT MAN!" McGonagall bellowed and the whole class went behind him.

Professor McGonagall started shooting Stunners towards the escaping man. When the group reached the Grand Staircase, Professor Flitwick and his third years came to where McGonagall and the second years were.

"What in tarnation is going on Minerva? I've never heard a scream so loud coming from you!"

"Filius, Pettigrew is alive!" McGonagall shouted, shaking the tiny Charms master.

"What are you talking about?! Pettigrew is…" Flitwick started to say until Joseph pointed him out.

"Professor is it that guy downstairs?"

The two professors gasped and gave chase. Pettigrew noticed this and ran away, nearly crashing on the sixth year Ravenclaws that were coming upstairs.

Pettigrew ran until he reached the entrance to the Great Hall. He was thinking of where to hide until he heard the full battalion coming right for him. He took a random decision and went down the staircase in direction to the dungeons.

Peter ran looking backwards until he bumped into someone and fell butt first to the floor. When he looked up, he was looking at the long, crooked nose of the Potions master and he flinched in fear.

"Sn-Sn-Snivellus…" he gulped. Snape was flabbergasted at what he was seeing. A man who was apparently dead 11 years ago just happened to bump into him. The Potions master grabbed his wand, as an attempt to attack him when Peter crawled up and ran back to the entrance. Snape started pelting spell after spell.

Peter knew he was screwed. He had Snape hot on his heels and had McGonagall and Flitwick coming from upstairs, so his only way out was into the Great Hall. That instant, he grabbed the wand of an unsuspecting Hufflepuff first year and tried to run to transfigure back. The moment he attempted to turn back into his rat Animagus, he was disarmed by Flitwick and Stunned by a double shot from McGonagall and Snape, effectively knocking him out. Flitwick then shot an Incarcerous, and tight rope wound around the unconscious man.

Due to the whole commotion, Dumbledore, Sprout, Hagrid and Filch appeared on the scene.

"What is going here, Minerva?" Dumbledore approached the Transfiguration professor.

"We were covering the animated to unanimated transfigurations for small vertebrates. Mister Weasley here, used his pet rat as the subject."

"Ah, I remember that. Did something go wrong then?" Albus asked curiously.

"Of course, it did! His wand is all Spellotaped and went haywire, converting the rat into a rat-goblet hybrid! When I tried to revert the transfiguration, it flash-banged and… and…" she stuttered, about to shout in outrage.

"And what, Minerva?" Professor Sprout asked in curiosity.

"Mister Weasley the youngest's pet rat was Peter Pettigrew's Animagus form!", McGonagall shouted, pointing at the unconscious man.

Dumbledore walked up to the man bound on the floor. He picked up the Hufflepuff's wand and gave it back. "Here you go, Mr. Galvez. Hold it tight."

The Headmaster inspected everything and pulled up the sleeve of the rat Animagus and saw the Dark Mark branded into his left arm. Dumbledore's brow furrowed and beckoned at the Heads of House.

"This is a dire situation. We have an escaped Death Eater here. Pomona, go to your office since it is the nearest, and Floo-call Madam Amelia Bones from the DMLE. Filius and Minerva, relocate the students to the common room. Severus, stay with me in case anything happens." The other three Heads went to do what the Headmaster ordered.

Harry, Ron, Andrew, Neville, and Hermione were standing near the Slytherin table when they tried to leave until Dumbledore called them up.

"You five, come here. I will need your input as witnesses on the situation when Madam Bones comes over."

"Um, Professor, I wasn't actually THERE, so may I return to Ravenclaw Tower?" Andrew asked nervously.

"You may leave, Mr. Rivers. Please be careful on your way back." Dumbledore dismissed him.

The quartet stayed and sat down until Professor Sprout returned with Professors Flitwick and McGonagall and Madam Bones with a contingent of Aurors, included Andrew's own dad.

"Albus, I received your message through Professor Sprout. What happened here?" Madam Bones asked, cleaning her monocle. Dumbledore and Snape moved away, and she saw Pettigrew's unconscious form in the middle of the Great Hall's floor.

"Who is that?" she asked grimly. "Is that Peter Pettigrew?!"

"Indeed, Amelia. If it were not for Minerva and young Mr. Weasley here, we wouldn't've discovered this." Dumbledore then asked McGonagall and the Gryffindors present what happened to the most minuscule detail.

"Well, this is impressive. Peter Pettigrew was alive, and of top of that, a Death Eater. Marked no less. I think we must reopen some cases from the war. Shacklebolt, Moody, add another Incarcerous to Pettigrew and place him Anti-Animagus cuffs. I don't want another escape on my watch."

"Just great, another bloody Death Eater arrest for my records. Best way to go out to retirement." Moody muttered, his magical eye roaming like crazy.

"You're retiring, Alastor?" McGonagall asked.

"Aye, Fudge and Scrimgeour think that I need a well reserved rest. But I bloody well know I do not need rest. I have a recruit to train!" he grumbled.

"There, there, Alastor. You will train this last batch until the end of July. I'll talk it out with Rufus." Bones told Moody.

The Aurors left, with Pettigrew out cold, back to the Ministry. McGonagall took them back to Gryffindor Tower until dinnertime approached.

The next day, the Gryffindor trio was coming up from breakfast, when suddenly Ron started to talk.

"D'you really think there's a Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked Hermione.

"I don't know," she said, frowning. "Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs. Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be — well — human."

As she spoke, they turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened. They stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message "The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened."

"That's where Filch has been keeping guard," Ron muttered.

"Can't hurt to have a poke around," said Harry, dropping his bag and getting to his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues.

"Scorch marks!" he said. "Here — and here —"

"Come and look at this!" said Hermione. "This is funny..."

Harry got up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.

"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" said Hermione wonderingly.

"No," said Harry, "have you, Ron? Ron?"

He looked over his shoulder. Ron was standing well back and seemed to be fighting the impulse to run.

"What's up?" said Harry.

"I — don't — like — spiders," said Ron tensely.

"I never knew that," said Hermione, looking at Ron in surprise. "You've used spiders in Potions loads of times..."

"I don't mind them dead," said Ron, who was carefully looking anywhere but at the window. "I just don't like the way they move..."

Hermione giggled.

"It's not funny," said Ron, fiercely. "If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my — my teddy bear into a great big filthy spider because I broke his toy broomstick... You wouldn't like them either if you'd been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and..."

He broke off, shuddering. Hermione was obviously still trying not to laugh. Feeling they had better get off the subject, Harry said, "Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone's mopped it up."

"It was about here," said Ron, recovering himself to walk a few paces past Filch's chair and pointing.

"Level with this door."

He reached for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand as though he'd been burned.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"Can't go in there," said Ron gruffly. "That's a girls' toilet."

"Oh, Ron, there won't be anyone in there," said Hermione, standing up and coming over. "That's Moaning Myrtle's place. Come on, let's have a look."

And ignoring the large OUT OF ORDER sign, she opened the door.

It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom Harry had ever set foot in. Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror were a row of chipped sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.

Hermione put her fingers to her lips and set off toward the end stall. When she reached it she said, "Hello, Myrtle, how are you?"

Harry and Ron went to look. Moaning Myrtle was floating above the tank of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin.

"This is a girls' bathroom," she said, eyeing Ron and Harry suspiciously. "They're not girls."

"No," Hermione agreed. "I just wanted to show them how — er — nice it is in here."

She waved vaguely at the dirty old mirror and the

damp floor.

"Ask her if she saw anything," Harry mouthed at Hermione.

"What are you whispering?" said Myrtle, staring at him.

"Nothing," said Harry quickly. "We wanted to ask —"

"I wish people would stop talking behind my back!" said Myrtle, in a voice choked with tears. "I do have feelings, you know, even if I am dead —"

"Myrtle, no one wants to upset you," said Hermione. "Harry only —"

"No one wants to upset me! That's a good one!" howled Myrtle. "My life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along ruining my death!"

"We wanted to ask you if you've seen anything funny lately," said Hermione quickly. "Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door on Halloween."

"Did you see anyone near here that night?" said Harry.

"I wasn't paying attention," said Myrtle dramatically. "Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I'm — that I'm —"

"Already dead," said Ron helpfully.

Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose up in the air, turned over, and dived headfirst into the toilet, splashing water all over them and vanishing from sight, although from the direction of her muffled sobs, she had come to rest somewhere in the U-bend.

Harry and Ron stood with their mouths open, but Hermione shrugged wearily and said, "Honestly, that was almost cheerful for Myrtle. ... Come on, let's go."

Harry had barely closed the door on Myrtle's gurgling sobs when a loud voice made all three of them jump.

"RON!"

Percy Weasley had stopped dead at the head of the stairs, prefect badge agleam, an expression of complete shock on his face.

"That's a girls' bathroom!" he gasped. "What were you —?"

"Just having a look around," Ron shrugged. "Clues, you know —"

Percy swelled in a manner that reminded Harry forcefully of Mrs. Weasley.

"Get — away — from — there —" Percy said, striding toward them and starting to bustle them along, flapping his arms. "Don't you care what this looks like? Coming back here while everyone's at dinner —"

"Why shouldn't we be here?" said Ron hotly, stopping short and glaring at Percy. "Listen, we never laid a finger on that cat!"

"That's what I told Ginny," said Percy fiercely, "but she still seems to think you're going to be expelled, I've never seen her so upset, crying her eyes out, you might think of her, all the first years are thoroughly overexcited by this business — "

"You don't care about Ginny," said Ron, whose ears were now reddening. "You're just worried I'm going to mess up your chances of being Head Boy — "

"Five points from Gryffindor!" Percy said tersely, fingering his prefect badge. "And I hope it teaches you a lesson! No more detective work, or I'll write to Mum!"

And he strode off, the back of his neck as red as Ron's ears.

They kept going upstairs and stopped at the library. They saw Percy and a Ravenclaw prefect asking Madam Pince for a book, until they moved away towards an unoccupied table.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were looking for seats as far as possible from Percy. In that instant, they noticed Andrew writing avidly on a parchment. He beckoned them to the table he was using.

"What's with the long faces, guys?" Andrew inquired.

"Percy happened." Ron said acidly. Harry explained Andrew about the search near the bathroom and Percy's attitude towards them. Ron dug through his bag and brought out his Charms book and some parchment and started to write. Hermione and Harry followed suit, while Andrew kept working on his Arithmancy homework.

After a while, Ron was still in a very bad temper with his brother Percy's attitude earlier and kept blotting his Charms homework. When he reached absently for his wand to remove the smudges, it ignited the parchment. Fuming almost as much as his homework, Ron slammed The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 shut. To Harry's surprise, Hermione followed suit.

"Who can it be, though?" she said in a quiet voice, as though continuing a conversation they had just been having. "Who'd want to frighten all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?"

"Let's think," said Ron in mock puzzlement. "Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum?"

He looked at Hermione. Hermione looked back, unconvinced.

"If you're talking about Malfoy — " Andrew started.

"Of course I am!" said Ron. "You heard him — 'You'll be next, Mudbloods! — come on, you've only got to look at his foul rat face to know it's him — "

"Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?" said Hermione skeptically.

"Look at his family," said Harry, closing his books, too. "The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin; he's always boasting about it. They could easily be Slytherin's descendants. His father's definitely evil enough."

"They could've had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries!" said Ron. "Handing it down, father to son..."

"Well," said Hermione cautiously, "I suppose it's possible..."

"But how do we prove it?" said Harry darkly.

"There might be a way," said Hermione slowly, dropping her voice still further with a quick glance across the room at Percy. "Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We'd be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect — "

"If, in a month or so, you feel like explaining, you will let us know, won't you?" said Ron irritably.

"All right," said Hermione coldly. "What we'd need to do is to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions without him realizing it's us."

"But that's impossible," Harry said as Ron laughed.

"No, it's not," said Hermione. "All we'd need would be some Polyjuice Potion."

"What's that?" said Ron and Harry together. Andrew grew suspicious of the suggestion.

"Snape mentioned it in class a few weeks ago — "

"D'you think we've got nothing better to do in Potions than listen to Snape?" muttered Ron.

"Well you really should, Ronald. Potions is one of the most important branches of magic." Andrew told Ron in the tone that the redhead hated most.

"It's obvious YOU'D say that, since you're Snape's teacher's pet." Ron huffed. Andrew blushed yet he tried to refute him, but Harry shut the conversation off.

"What does it do, Hermione?" he asked.

"It transforms you into somebody else. Think about it! We could change into four of the Slytherins. No one would know it was us. Malfoy would probably tell us anything. He's probably boasting about it in the Slytherin common room right now, if only we could hear him."

"Hermione, are you AWARE of what you're saying? You are conspiring of potioning and impersonating another student IN SCHOOL? ARE YOU MAD?"

"This Polyjuice stuff sounds a bit dodgy to me," said Ron, frowning and following Andrew's heed.

"It's harmless to be honest. Aurors use them all the time for their undercover missions." Andrew huffed. "If you three are going to do this, I want off. I won't risk my Potions lab privileges to do an outrageous idea such as this." He then picked his backpack up and left.

Hermione and Ron were gob smacked at the reaction of the Ravenclaw. Harry then asked Hermione, "What if we were stuck looking like some Slytherins forever?"

"It wears off after a while," said Hermione, waving her hand impatiently, clearly annoyed at Andrew's departure. "But getting hold of the recipe will be very difficult. Snape said it was in a book called Moste Potente Potions and it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library."

There was only one way to get out a book from the Restricted Section: You needed a signed note of permission from a teacher.

"Hard to see why we'd want the book, really," said Ron, "if we weren't going to try and make one of the potions."

"I think," said Hermione, "that if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance..."

"Oh, come on, no teacher's going to fall for that," said Ron. "They'd have to be really thick..."