The Twins Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

by whereweleftoff

Following up their dangerous first year at Hogwarts, James Dean and Harry Andrew Potter, alongside their adopted brothers Travis and Brian, prepare for a whole new year at school. However, someone, or something, conspiring to make this year just as wild and wacky as the last, and in order to survive, they'll need to keep their wits ABOOT them, eh... Partial redux of the OG.

8. Chapter 8: The Writing's on the Wall

If you're reading this, much love. Essential oils don't cure cancer, but a vaporizer with peppermint oils does wonders for irritated, allergen-prone sinuses. Free your nostrils, friends.

ENJOI

...

Ron all but charged down the corridors back to the Great Hall, leading the others towards the stairs out of the dungeon. Nobody was more ready than the food obsessed ginger to leave the Deathday party behind, and he made that well known.

"If we hurry, we might make it there in time for pudding, at least!"

James and Harry shared a look and rolled their eyes, but both knew that, deep down, they were sympathetic. It had been a minute since they had eaten last, and the evening jog with Travis had left James famished. As they neared the staircase, though, Harry came to a dead halt, and shot James a worried look.

"What is it?" James asked, puzzled.

"Shh," Harry waved him off, turning his head towards a wall. He moved closer to it, and almost put his head onto the wall itself, seemingly following something only he could hear. Looking at him incredulously, James motioned at him as if to say, 'What the hell?'

Harry responded to his friend's odd looks with a fearful one of his own. "I... I'm hearing it again. That voice, the one I heard after detention with Lockhart."

"What's it saying?" Ron asked, unabashedly upset about being deprived of food. "Go get dinner?"

"No," Harry bit back. "It's saying it... it wants to kill!"

"How horribly cliché," James muttered, but Harry shushed him.

"And I think it's moving upstairs!" With that, Harry bolted up the stairs, and after sharing a look of exasperation, James, Travis, and Hermione tore after him. Ron stood there looking at Brian in confusion, but the spacey Ravenclaw had a death grip on his guitar and looked like his eyes were staring at something a thousand miles away.

"What's this all about?" Ron asked him.

"It's happening," was all Brian said, fear coming over his face, making his bottom lip tremble. "I thought it was a bad dream, but now… its coming true…"

"Yeah, okay," Ron mumbled, grabbing Brian by the collar and dragging him on, trying to follow their friends.

"It's going to kill someone!" Harry hollered, not breaking stride.

"Yeah, so let's give this monster of yours six bite-sized targets!" James wheezed, thighs burning from the extra exercise. "Because… that's not… counterproductive to… our goals at all!"

Harry led them on a wild goose chase as he tore through the entire second floor. Harry came to a sudden, dead stop as he came to the last corner to the last, deserted hallway. James, still not really in the best of physical shape, barreled into his twin's back, Travis and Hermione almost tripping over the two Potter's themselves. Brian and Ron caught up as James was hauled off his brother by Travis, and that's when Ron emitted a sound somewhere between a groan and a shriek.

Following his gaze, the others rested their eyes on something nobody could have expected. A message, with foot tall letters written in blood.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS OPENED

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE

"Ugh," Harry muttered, as he stood up. "Where did all this water come from?"

They looked down at him and noticed that Harry had fallen face first into a flooded corridor. James helped his twin stand as he neared, and Ron gasped and pointed at something else that James had almost walked into, so focused as he was on the writing. Hanging from the roof by a string tied harshly around her tail was none other than the still, spiraling form of Mrs. Norris.

"No!" James, Travis, and Brian all roared, James falling to his knees at the sight of their unmoving nemesis.

"That's our best prank target!" Travis cried.

"I knew it!" Brian screeched, near tears. "Its like a nightmare!"

"We haven't gotten to catch and shave her yet this year!" Travis thundered.

"If anybody was going to kill it, it was supposed to be me!" James sobbed, as he stared mournfully into the still, lamp-like eyes of his infernal enemy.

"You three are incorrigible, really!" Hermione chided, as a loud rumble broke loose, and the students gathered in the Great Hall begun a mass exodus back to their dorms. The corridor was beset at both sides by students climbing the stairs in a quest to return to their dorms, only to find the motley group, standing before the scene. James, on his knees with arms stretched out to towards the supposedly dead Mrs. Norris, suddenly realized how ridiculous he looked and how bad the optics of the situation could be perceived.

"Enemies of their, beware!?" Draco Malfoy's high pitched, snobbish voice pierced the scared din of the gathered students. Draco had shoved his was way to the front of the pack and smiled horrendously at what he was seeing. "Watch your backs, Mudbloods! You'll be next!"

"Oh, shut it, Malfoy!" James and Travis chorused, as James stood.

"What's the meaning of this?" Professor McGonagall demanded, as she, Dumbledore, Snape, Lockhart, and Percy Weasley parted the crowd and inspected the scene themselves. Dumbledore turned pale, his lips forming a thin line as he pursed them before looking at James and company. McGonagall gasped and took a step back, holding a hand to her mouth. Snape's eyes narrowed in suspicion, before analyzing everyone in his vicinity, looking for suspicious behavior. Lockhart scoffed and smiled, waving it off like it was no big deal.

"Rest assured, everyone, I'm sure this is nothing more than an elaborate prank."

"Would you call this a prank, Professor?" Snape asked with a snide tone, poking Mrs. Norris with the tip of his wand, causing her body to spin again in a morbid, lazy pirouette.

Lockhart's face drained of color, and he stammered unintelligibly as he shook his head and backed off. A stream of angry curses erupted from the crowd and the shambling form of Argus Filch rushed through the assembled students. As his eyes fell on the message, his lips curled in anger at the thought of having to clean it up, before falling on the form of Mrs. Norris, and his expression turned to absolute sorrow. Delicious sorrow in James's eyes, but absolute nonetheless. Shambling forward silently, he held her frozen form in his hands, sobs coming out him as he cradled her in his arms. Looking up, he caught sight of James and Harry, and his eyes suddenly switched gears again, turning to rage.

"You!" his croaking, gravelly voice roared, pointing an accusatory finger at James. "You-You did this, I know ya did! I'll kill ya!"

"Ah!" James yelped helplessly as the man sprung on him with surprising speed and force, tackling him to the ground and into the flood of water, punching at him wildly. "I'm innocent-blarhharble agh-eugh-for once! It wasn't-plrrgrggle- me no matter how much I wish it was!"

"Lies! Slander! I'll kill ya!" Argus thundered back, trying to force James's head in the water.

"Argus!" Dumbledore finally hollered as Snape hexed the Caretaker off him. McGonagall came forward and helped James to his feet, checking him over.

"He killed her, he did!" Filch shrieked as Snape's spell sent him tumbling away from James. "I know they did it! I want punishment!"

"Dude freaking socked me!" James wheezed as he coughed water and held his right eye, which was quickly forming a bruise.

"Come with me, Argus, bring her with you," Dumbledore ordered, before looking at Harry, James, Brian, Ron, Travis, and Hermione. "All of you, as well."

Lockhart stepped up again. "My office, Headmaster, its nearest. Please, feel free-"

"Thank you, Gilderoy. The rest of you, return to your common rooms immediately, follow your Prefects."

James and company followed Dumbledore and Filch, flanked closely by Snape, McGonagall, and Lockhart. The D.A.D.A teacher's office was a short march away, and James signaled to everyone to stay quiet, after Harry tried to ask Dumbledore something. The only sounds that filled the hike was ragged breathing, the sloshing of water in shoes, and Filch's muttering curses and cries as he cradled Mrs. Norris to his chest, occasionally shooting James evil glances.

As they arrived at Lockhart's room, Dumbledore swept in and instructed Filch to place the cat on a table. With Snape and McGonagall at his side, the three professors inspected Mrs. Norris's body as Filch moved to the side, glaring at James and Harry, his eyes never leaving them as he murmured curses at them.

Bet you wish you had a wand, don't you? James thought as he glared back at the Caretaker. Harry found his feet incredibly interesting, avoiding Filch's glare, while the others looked on in varying degrees of fear.

Lockhart, proving himself the consummate fool, began spouting nonsense to fill the silence. "Was definitely a curse that killed her," he stated boastfully. "Transmogrifian Curse, most likely. A shame I wasn't there when it happened. I know just the spell that would have saved her..."

"That ain't even a real thing," Travis muttered quietly, rolling his eyes as Snape shushed him with a menacing look.

Lockhart's comments did little to assuage Filch, for obvious reasons, who renewed his spattering of muttered insults at James. The other three professors ignored them, as Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was as close to Norris's fur as it could be without actually touching it, his half-moon spectacles hiding whatever his eyes were looking for. McGonagall was looming almost as close, her green eyes analyzing the cat's eyes as her black hair gleamed in the dim light of the office. Snape finally stood straight and looked at Harry and James with a curious expression, one that James couldn't read. It was somewhere between amazement and bafflement, while a smile played at his thin lips.

"... I remember something similar happening in Ougadogou a few years ago, series of attacks. If you recall I wrote about them in my autobiographies, very frightening. Yes, I managed to provide the villager's with amulets enchanted to stop the attacks quickly and-"

"Professor?" McGonagall spoke up softly, looking at Lockhart pointedly.

"Oh, well, yes, Minerva?"

"As… educational as your tales may be, we're trying to concentrate on the matter at hand."

"Oh, yes, but of course, I didn't-I mean, yes."

Ron sniggered at Lockhart being put in his place, and the others followed suit before Snape fixed them with another silencing glare. Dumbledore had begun muttering something to himself, and tapped the cat with his wand a few times, to no effect. McGonagall gave him a questioning look, and he shook his head.

"She isn't dead, Argus," he declared as he stood up straight. Snape's smile blossomed, watching Lockhart start abruptly in confusion.

"Not… dead?" Lockhart and Filch chorused, the professor in surprise, the caretaker hopefully. "Then why is she all, all..."

Filch motioned to her body with a questioning, two-armed gesture.

"She's been petrified," McGonagall explained primly, folding her hands in front of her.

"Ah! I thought so!" Lockhart cried gleefully, for some reason."

"How," Dumbledore continued. "We cannot say."

"Ask these!" Filch pointed accusingly at James and Harry. "They's the ones who done it!"

Snape scoffed at the accusation. "No second year student could have done this. No student that young, no matter how talented they are at finding things they shouldn't," he fixed James with a sneering glare. "Can wield such Dark magic so well at that age."

"But he did it! I know he did!" Filch screamed desperately, pointing at James yet again. "You'se saw what he wrote. It's all because his brother found the letter in-my-office... he, they knew I was a-a-a Squib! He's always hated me!"

"I never touched her!" James roared back in his defense, tired of being Filch's scapegoat. "I'm a prankster, not a murderer! Besides, everybody in the student body hates you, you cruel freak! I wouldn't kill a cat just because you suck at magic!"

"Rubbish! That one saw my kwikspell letter and prattled about it to everyone!"

"Me! He prattled about it to just me!"

"Enough!" Snape hissed, fixing them both with a dead eyed stare before looking to Dumbledore. "Professor, if you ask me... it would appear these six were just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. As suspicious as their absence was at the Feast..."

"Go ask Nearly Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron," Hermione interjected. "They'll tell you, we were at Nick's Deathday Party."

The professors looked at her like she'd grown a second head.

Hermione wilted, but Ron stepped up. "I begged them to go to the feast instead, but we just had to go, for 'educational purposes.'"

"Sounds a lot like Granger," McGonagall muttered quietly, rolling her eyes and conceding the point.

Snape held his hands up, as if proving his point. "And look at their hands, not a single sign of blood. If you recall, that message was written with somebody's finger-"

"They must've washed it off in the water!"

"-and not a single wound on any of them. They're innocent. Innocent... until proven guilty, Mr. Filch. Isn't it better that ten guilty souls go free then to hang one innocent?"

"Blackstone's formulation?" James asked in a squeaky, high pitched voice. "From you?"

Filch worked his jaw furiously, wanting to fight his point but knew it was useless. "My cat... has been petrified! This is an injustice, it is! I want. To see. Some PUNISHMENT!"

"Professor Sprout has a crop of mandrakes growing as we speak," Dumbledore said placatingly, holding his hands up. James cringed at the mention of the plants. "We can brew a restorative potion as soon as they mature, Argus."

"I can do it," Lockhart offered way too quickly. "Must've done it a hundred times-"

"Last time I checked, you weren't the Potions Master, Professor," James jabbed grouchily. Snape fixed him with a shocked but appreciative expression, before returning to his stoic visage.

"Yes," Snape icily agreed, staring at the boisterous Defense teacher. "And I don't much feel like entrusting the process to someone who could... abscond, from the duty because he feels the need to cover a press conference."

"I-well-I would never-"

"It's settled, then," Dumbledore sighed, holding his hands up to motion that was that. He looked at the six students, and with a grimace said, "You all can go."

Once out of the office and away from the teachers, Travis found it prudent to ask. "What's a squib?"

Ron barked a short lived laugh. "It's not really funny," he explained. "Well, it kinda is, since it's Filch and all, but it's really not. Squibs are people born to magical parents and can see and witness magic but can't actually use it. That's why people like Filch can see passed the Muggle deterrent charms here at Hogwarts."

Travis sniggered, despite being shamed by Hermione for doing so. "That probably explains why he's so bitter. He is just jealous."

Harry, being off in his own world, quietly asked, "Should I have told them about that voice?"

"Nah," Travis replied after a moment of thought.

"Yeah, mate, hearing voices isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world," Ron agreed without hesitation, looking at Harry worryingly.

"You... you all believe me, though, right?"

"Of course," Ron said quickly.

The others, however, had to take a moment to stop and stare at Harry, wondering how best to him we was probably going loony. James, still angry about his shiner and what had happened with Filch, scoffed.

"It's pretty obvious there is a possibility the voice you heard was real," he opined, never breaking stride. "I mean, the voice you heard led us right to Pussy McPussFace, and that message. The only hanky thing is we couldn't hear it."

James stormed off past them, dragging a still spooked looking Brian, who was not paying them any attention otherwise. Travis shrugged and started after him.

"I could hear it when I closed my eyes," Brian whimpered.

"That makes no sense, Brian," James growled.

"It does if you think about it," Brian whined.

"James has got a point," Travis conceded, and the others slowly digested what he said.

"Yeah, I mean, that is a good one," Hermione muttered giving Harry an apologetic look. "Sorry for doubting you."

"It's alright," Harry replied sadly, as a clock chimed somewhere. "It's curfew, let's get to bed before Snape or Filch comes and hangs us."

…

The next few days, the entire school seemed incapable of talking about anything but the attack on Mrs. Norris, and the writing on the wall. Filch had tried all manners of cleaning products, muggle and magical alike to remove it with no luck. It angered James Dean every time he walked by it, to the point where he refused to go near it at all. When Filch himself was not around guarding the "scene of the crime," he was skulking the corridors at all hours, lunging at students walking by and trying to send them to detention for asinine reasons. He seemed distressed to the point of crying nonstop, but since he was actively mean to anyone for no reason before the attack on Mrs. Norris, he wasn't shown much sympathy.

Ginny Weasley appeared to be so distraught by Norris's fate, she refused to go to class the day after, and it took half the female Gryffindor population to drag her to class. According to Ron, she was a cat lover, but Harry had a sneaking suspicion it was more than that. He guessed she was scared and didn't think he could blame her. Ron's words to her about how that stuff didn't happen at Hogwarts, and that Dumbledore would catch the maniac who did it didn't assuage her worries, however, and she all but screamed as she ran away from him.

The attack had an effect on James and Hermione, too. If James was angry about Filch not getting punished for attacking him, he didn't say so, but he was still seething about Filch's attack itself. He refused to write back home about it, considering it weak to "stoop to Malfoy's standards and call daddy for everything." Considering the watchful eye he and the entire group was under at the moment, he couldn't go through with any of his planned pranks or brew his replication potion, and it seemed like all the joy had left James's life. Without his favorite target roaming the halls, and Malfoy's gang avoiding him, James buried himself in reading up on magical lineages in the library with Hermione and Kiara, both of whom didn't complain about the company. Hermione herself had immersed herself into books, but not to study for class, either. When Harry and Ron badgered her about it, she shrugged them and said it was "research purposes."

Snape was as cruel as ever, and since James was too clever to fall for his tactics, his wrath fell on Harry, who one day, was held back to scrape tubeworms from the desks after class. After eating a hastily assembled lunch, Harry rushed to meet Ron before class, and ran into Justin-Finch Fletchley. The dark haired boy caught sight of him and abruptly about faced and ran from him right as he was about to greet him. Shrugging it off, he entered the library and found Ron with Brian and Travis in the back, struggling with his Magical History essay.

"I'm telling you, just find a few passages in a book on the subject, shift a few words around, and pass it off," Travis drawled to Ron as he measured his essay about the 'Medieval Assembly of European Wizards.' "Anywho, did you all hear about Hagrid's chickens? He thinks some foxes or something gotten into the coups and killed them all."

"Isn't that cheating?" he asked as he sat back in his seat, shoulders sagging in defeat. "I can't believe I'm still eight inches off. 'Mione's only got four, and her writing's tiny."

"JD already has his done," Brian muttered as he furiously scribbled his own assignment, as if he he actively forcing his eyes to stay glued on the parchment, but even so, they were hypervigilant, every few minutes looking up to scan the room for threats. "And the next three that are due. It's like he's on a mission to get all of his coursework for the next century done before Christmas. And yeah, I heard. Weird they weren't eaten, though. It was almost like somebody was sending a mafioso style message."

"James still gassed about Filch?" Harry asked as he took a seat at their table.

"Yup," his two adopted brothers chorused, but Brian, almost imperceptibly, shuddered at the mention of that night before his eyes went glossy for a moment.

Harry scoffed softly at his adopted brother as he shook himself from the glossy-eyed trance and pulled his own essay out of his bag. "Where are they, anyway? And how come you all aren't with him?"

Ron, Travis and Brian all pointed across the library where Kiara Kennedy and James Dean sat, the former watching the latter with concern as he furiously stared at the book in front of him, turning the pages every twenty seconds or so. Hermione walked up to the table not long after Harry looked over, carrying a stack of books with her.

"Swear they're both going to have this entire library read and memorized," Ron muttered weakly, getting back to his essay and taking Travis's advice about half-plagiarizing. "Besides, James has been in a tizzy, and its... scary. Just letting him, y'know..."

Harry nodded in understanding as he started in on his own homework, telling them about what happened with Fletchley.

"Dunno why you care," Ron answered, not looking up from his parchment. "He's an idiot, anyways."

"And a coward," Travis added. "The punk literally ran away from a Slytherin kid who was bullying him that was half his size."

"Dude almost wrecked my guitar in music club," Brian sneered darkly as he dipped his quill into his bottle of ink. "I dunno know why Flitwick doesn't kick him out, he's got as much musical talent as a rock."

"And do you hear him drone on about how great Lockhart is?" Ron replied, shaking his head. "He straight up blamed James for 'losing' his earmuffs in Herbology class earlier this month, and 'not telling Lockhart what really happened,' so he 'obviously made a mistake trying to cure him, he didn't know what was wrong to begin with!' Never mind that Ernie MacMillan was the one who did all the talking."

Harry wanted to tell them to stop being so mean, but he had to admit they made a bit of a point. Before he could formulate a response, Hermione emerged from a row of bookshelves and came over.

"Do any of you have a copy of Hogwarts: A Histoy?"

The four stared blankly at her, like the way the professors looked at her the night Mrs. Norris was attacked, making her cringe and hold her hands up in defense.

"Fair point," she conceded bashfully. "All the copies here have been loaned out, and there is a two week wait on them! I can't believe I was so stupid and left my copy at home…"

"Whatcha need it for, anyways?" Travis asked as he flipped the page of the book he was reading, the Monsterium Beastiarium. "Don't you have it memorized, anyways? And why has it become so popular all a sudden?"

"That's not the point," she answered defensively, sitting next to them. "And I want it for the same reason everyone does, to find out what the Chamber of Secrets is."

"And what is this Chamber, exactly?" Brian asked, blowing dry the ink on his parchment as he finished his essay.

Hermione snapped her fingers. "That's just it, I don't remember."

A faux gasp of shock erupted from the four as they looked at her in exaggerated shock.

"The great Hermione Granger, forgetting something so important?!" Travis gushed, holding a hand over his heart and acting faint. "Oh, heavens, the horror. What has the world come to?"

"Surely it has frozen over, down below," Brian added, signaling the shape of the cross over his chest.

"Down below?" Ron asked, smiling in fake confusion.

"That's right, brother," Harry added facetiously, giving Hermione a playful smirk. "All the way down, below.

Despite knowing they were teasing, she threw her hands up in indignation and marched off. "Ugh!"

"Ask Jimmy Dean?" Travis called after her. "He's the one with the memory, remember?"

…

James's eyes bored into the Potions book in front of him. He was reading up on the properties of the ingredients in Snape's failed Replication potion. He was dimly aware that his intensity was disturbing Kiara, who looked up at him in concern every minute or so as she struggled to finish her History essay. He ignored her looks as he read the list of known magical families recorded in the 1300s, scowling and making a note in his notebook about the Pendragon family.

"Um, s-sorry, James?" she finally asked, nervously.

"Hm?"

"Um, what-what year was the Medieval, er-

"It was formed in 1291, two years after the International Warlock Convention was over."

"Thank you," she said quietly as she scribbled it down. "Are- are you... okay?"

"No," he answered simply, turning the page.

"Want- want to talk about it?"

James froze for a moment, not expecting that from her. "I... yeah, sure."

She finished her last line quickly and set her quill down, looking at him silently. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, pushing it back with his foot, leaving it propped up on its back legs. Rubbing his face with his free hand, his fingers lingered over the fading bruise over his right eye.

"Its... it's like some people here believe Filch when he said me or Harry did it. I get that it looked bad, being there first and all, but.."

"You expected people would think better of you," she finished knowingly.

"I... suppose that's about right. I mean, I don't put it past Filch for what he did, as much as I hate him for it. And even the Slytherins blaming me. But there are those that I have treated well, helped out, or just plain been friendly with who look at me and Harry as savages."

"You aren't savages," she cajoled quietly. It was uncharacteristic for her, being the consoling, motherly type. but he felt it suited her. "It's actually really brilliant how you stood up for Nick. Hermione and you are the only thing he's talked about for days. And the way you stood up for yourself against Filch..."

"You mean before or after he tenderized my skull with the floor?"

She giggled but shook her head. "Both. Not many people would have handled themselves the way you did. Most probably would have taken it and shut up. It's what's made most everyone respect, and kinda fear you."

"Fear me?" James asked, incredulous.

"You aren't afraid to stand," she explained. "Where most of us would just take what is given, but you and Harry... you both kinda say, 'Nah, to hell with that,' and that scares people, because they never know what you both will get into. And because you are like that, so are those close to you."

"I... never thought about it that way," James muttered, looking away from her in thought. "I've always just... done. Acted. I never considered how it made me look to everyone else."

"And that's why all the girls think you're some cute, punk rock rebel bad boy and want to date ya."

"Yeah... wait, what?"

"Do either of you remember the chapter in Hogwarts: A History that covered the Chamber of Secrets?" Hermione cut in as she stomped back over to their table.

"It wasn't mentioned," James shrugged.

"Are you sure?" she asked, planting a fist on a cocked hip.

"I read three different editions, 'Mione. It was never mentioned, not even in passing."

…

By some miracle, Harry and the others managed to complete their essays by the time they were set to get to history class. By some stroke of luck, James had seemed to calm down a bit after talking to Kiara, and the two sat next to Travis and Brian. Harry was relieved he seemed a little bit more normal, and even grinned at his twin as he turned in his essay, which were both returned with perfect grades. The two went back to their normal routine and used the class to catch up on their sleep, as the rest of class tried and failed to listen to Professor Binns.

Binns was a rickety ghost, who was so boring and dry he could probably kill a rock with his monologues. Even Hermione had trouble paying attention to his lectures.

Today, however, would be different, as Binns, droning on about the Medieval Conventions, looked up to see Hermione sitting upright in her chair, hand in the air.

"Ah, yes, Miss Grant, a question?"

This woke James and Harry up, annoyed and groggy from their naps. The air in the class got thick, as the rest of the class knew what was coming.

"Granger, sir," Hermione corrected, correcting her posture before speaking again. "I was wondering, what is the Chamber of Secrets?"

"My course of study is History, Miss Ranger-"

"Granger," she corrected again.

"Yes, of course. My degree of study is History, not wives' tales. I deal with facts, not fairy tales. Now, in September of that year, a council of-"

He cut himself off again, as Hermione's hand shot back up.

"Yes?"

"Aren't most legends and fairy tales based on true events?"

Binns, ghostly as he was, gawped at her in amazement. Harry guessed nobody had bothered to ask a question during one of his lectures before, much less interrupt them. The ghost collected himself and grumbled a bit before wheezing, "Well, from a certain point of view that could-ahem-er be argued."

His spectral eyes narrowed as he took another look at Hermione, squinting as if he was just seeing her for the first time. "But this chamber of which you speak, it is ludicrous, just a sensational-"

Binns stopped himself again, noticing that every student, Harry and James included, were staring intently at him, hanging on every word. His eyes widened behind his spectacles, as this was yet another uncharacteristic occurrence. He seemed almost bashful, then, as if he wasn't used to being the center of attention despite being a teacher.

"Oh, very well, the Chamber of Secrets. Now, where to start... ah yes, the beginning. You may be aware that Hogwarts was founded by four prominent magic users of the era; Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazaar Slytherin. They established it here, in the secluded highlands of Scotland, to be away from prying, commoner muggle eyes, who were just beginning their persecutions of magic users freely at the time.

"For a few years, the founders got along fine, teaching the students they personally selected based on the traits they personally valued. However, a rift began to form between Slytherin and the others. He wanted the other founders to be... more selective with the students the school accepted, like he himself was. He found, personally, I might add, that muggleborn students were not to be trusted, and wanted them barred from the grounds. It came to blows one day with Godric, and Slytherin left the school, permanently by his own choice.

"These are the facts, backed by reliable sources. These facts are obscured and in often cases completely forgotten in lieu of this fanciful legend that Slytherin had somehow built a secret chamber in the castle, without arousing the suspicions of even a single one of the other founders, the other teachers, or even a single student! Legend would tell you that he then sealed the chamber before leaving, with only his true heir being capable of opening it and unleashing some terrible horror within, to cleanse the school of those not worthy of being within its walls. Those... Slytherin deemed unworthy of learning magic. Muggleborns."

Silence fell on the class as they let that sink in. Binns looked at them and, noticing their unease, harrumphed in annoyance. "It's errant nonsense, the lot of it," he wheezed sagely. "The school has been scoured top to bottom by professor, archaeologist, and foolish student alike. It's never been found. You'd think after a millennium, it would have been stumbled upon by now. It doesn't exist, it's nothing more than a fable."

"That's a lotta supposition coming from a guy who's all about facts," James snorted.

Hermione's hand went back in the air, ignoring his quip. "Sir-what exactly do you mean the 'terrible horror within?'"

"A monster said to be a controlled solely by the Heir to Slytherin," Binns replied dryly in his reedy voice.

The class shared nervous looks, James and Harry doing the same with each other.

"I'm telling you," Binns insisted. "It's hogwash, there is no Chamber of Secrets."

"But sir," Seamus Finnegan interjected. "If it only opens for the Heir, wouldn't they be the only one who could find it?"

This started a flurry of questions from other students, all of whom were verbally beaten back by Binns insistence it didn't exist. Finally, Binns had enough and thundered," That's it! It does not exist! We will return to history, verifiable facts, all believable and recorded!

…

"Man," Travis muttered as James led the way to the Great Hall later that evening. "I had no clue Slytherin was such a crazy."

Brian nodded in agreement. He looked like he was going to be sick, and when James had asked him about it, he admitted he was worried. James and Harry knew their blood status. Brian and Travis... they were orphans, left in a muggle orphanage. There was a very real, extremely high possibility they were muggleborn, and that meant...

"You're a target, if Binns is wrong and the Chamber is real," James finished for him, ashamed to admit he hadn't considered the possibility.

Brian nodded, and he and Travis both turned ashen. James tried to put on a devil-may-care attitude for their sakes, but it hadn't helped. They were scared. James surmised they had every right to be, and that scared him as well.

"You don't really think it's real, do you?" Travis asked shakily as they followed the crowd into the Great Hall.

"I mean..." Jame started, but trailed off. Did he think it was real? Binns and Hermione both made excellent points in their debate. After a thousand years of the legend being a nothingburger, with no schematics, much less a paper trail, and not being found, it was likely it didn't exist. Hermione's argument, however, had great merit. Legends aren't created in a vacuum, and besides, what is the possibility of Slytherin's true heir stumbling across a vague, super-secret entrance in a castle this big? "I can't really say. Binns and Hermione both made good points... But I would suggest we keep our guard up and maybe do some scout work."

"Scout work?" Travis asked, as he took a seat next to Kiara, who quietly nodded at them as Travis piled potatoes on his plate.

"Yeah, I mean, it would make sense. A few people had been up in arms about how Harry or me being potential Slytherin heirs... but they never thought about it being Malfoy? Or another... I dunno... another Slytherin?"

"You want to infiltrate the Slytherin house?" Brian asked conspiratorially, leaning in and whispering as he chewed on a hunk of stew meat.

"Possibly," James replied as he nibbled on a stewed carrot, pulling out a wad of crumpled parchment. "While I was still cooling off about Filch, I found a book in the library about wizarding genealogy. It's weird, because it claims to trace all Pureblood and legendary families, like the Most Ancient and Noble Houses. Families like the Weasley's, Kennedy's, Dippet's, Frontac's, Ollivander's, Scamander's, Nott's, Potter's, Black's, Parkinson's, Goyle's, Lestrange's, and many, many others."

"You remembered all of that?" Kiara asked, puzzled.

"Yeah," James answered pointing at his forehead before throwing out a slip of parchment on the table. "Perfect recall. But it was missing a lot of famed UK family names and wizards. Look, this is just the short list of the family names I thought should have been in the book, and weren't."

Travis, Kiara, and Brian leaned over and read James proposed list:

Gryffindor(family never recorded?)

Lodbrok(english noble family established, seer abilities noted, yet no magical record)

Hufflepuff(family never recorded?)

Pendragon(definite magical heritage, yet no mention before or after Uther, Arthur, or Mordred)

Gef(definite wizard, possible first great alterationist, ties to Peverell and Malfoy)

Springheel (old wizarding family name, tied to probable Dark Wizard with anti-muggle leanings, possible inspiration to Springheel Jack and JTR)

MacCumhaill(legendary Irish monster hunters)

Duibhne(renowned Irish family of enchanters, no mention after Diarmuid?)

Bran( Welsh family noted for, among other things, necromancy, family disappears for 800 years then reappears in records? Possible stolen name for pureblood purposes, or…?)

Culainn(claims of being born of 'Gods' that gave them magical power)

Slytherin(no heirs confirmed in records, despite many pureblood families claiming ties to the Slytherin name.)

"This is what you were reading about when we were studying?" Kiara asked with a surprised look.

"Among other things," James shrugged. "I was kinda trying to get my mind of being waterboarded. This is the thing I settled on after a while. Seemed appropriate, considering the circumstances."

"How did you get your homework done so fast if you were busy with this?"

Travis looked up from the list, chewing thoughtfully. "I have no idea who half these people are."

"Families," James corrected, shrugging off Kiara's question. "Not just people. These are families of legendary witches and wizards in and around the UK that I could find magical record on, and yet... they aren't mentioned in the ten thousand page tome about UK magical genealogy, nor in the other texts I could find on the subject. For the others, it made sense that they'd either die out or lose their family name to only having a daughter or something like that. But Slytherin? By all accounts, he was obsessed with genealogy and his legacy. Why would all mention of his direct descendants be cleaned from the record? It makes no sense. It's almost like his entire family tree has been scrubbed from any mention at all."

"Scrubbed?" travis asked over the rim of his glass. "Why would anyone want to scrub his history?"

"Scrubbed," James nodded, pulling another piece of scrap parchment. "These are all the pieces of literature I can find on the subject, and every single one danced around the topic of his lineage. It's like nobody in the academic sphere wants anyone to know who is truly Slytherin's heir."

The four fell silent as they thought about the implications. Slytherin was obsessed about blood purity and made it a staple in what he looked for in his students and heirs. Scholar's making it a point to avoid any mention of Slytherin's descendancy could be seen as a great affront to everything the wizard had stood for, but even as the thought crossed James mind, he had a eureka moment.

"Isn't it strange that right now, at the school Sally here helped start, his rumored secret chamber had been opened, with the intention of spilling his wrath on students he found unworthy?"

"I think I'm picking up what you're laying down," Travis nodded. "He doesn't want there to be conclusive evidence of who his heir is, to protect them from the fallout of what his Chamber holds."

"It makes sense," James finally spoke up, sipping pumpkin juice. "That A.) the heir to Slytherin is probably a pureblood or a half blood obsessed with blood purity, B.) they have historical butts covered to hide their true inheritance to Slytherin to keep their identity a secret so that C.) they can operate with impunity for as long as possible, and D.) a purely cunning thing to do is to insinuate someone else is the Heir behind this, and to keep suspicions about anybody in Slytherin as low as possible."

Travis sneered over his crusty rye bread. He always had a weird taste for bread heels. "Sounds like the underhanded tactics Malfoy might employ."

"Honestly, I doubt it," James muttered. "Malfoy is a possibility, as he is a Slytherin, and a cunning and ambitious fellow, but from what my research has provided, the Malfoy's were original French, and were closer to the English regency, not the Hogwart's founders. And Malfoy, as smart as he can be and devious as he is, isn't really stable headed enough to pull this off. Besides, we know he didn't open the Chamber; he was in the Great Hall for Halloween feast, remember?"

"Right," Kiara scoffed. "He'd still do it, though."

"Won't argue that," Brian quipped. "But what if he's a part of it? He obviously agrees with the mission statement the culprit wrote and might even know who did it."

James snapped his fingers "I didn't think of that, I mean, c'mon, we work in tandem with each other and Harry, Ron, and Hermione all the time, it's entirely possible the culprit had accomplices or something."

"And the way he talked that night," Travis added excitedly. 'Enemies of the Heir, beware.' He said the muggleborns were next so matter of fact. Like he expected this would happen and knew the muggleborn students were next."

"Circumstantial," James muttered, but relented. "But possible. He did seem sure of what he was saying."

"We have to tell Harry," Brian demanded.

James didn't necessarily agree, but again relented. He looked over at the Gryffindor table, and failed to see his twin. Or Ron. Or Hermione.

"Figures. As much as Ron thinks with his stomach, you'd think he wouldn't miss dinner."

…

The four made their way to Gryffindor Tower, James having grabbed a slice of apple cinnamon pie to devour on the way. A few students gave them odd looks as they headed in the opposite direction of Ravenclaw Tower, but they ignored the stares. James led them up the spiral staircase that led to the final corridor when they ran into Neville Longbottom about to head down.

"Neville," James greeted cheerfully. "Haven't been able to catch ya since term started."

"Oh," Neville stammered nervously, shoulders almost immediately shrinking and pulling into himself. "H-hi James, Travis... Brian... and-er-"

"Kiara," the three chorused.

"Kiara..." Neville stammered again, nodding at her. He flicked his eyes between the three, as if waiting for them to attack him.

"Neville," James said neutrally. "You don't think we're here to hurt you, do you?"

"NO!" Neville screamed, before blushing and looking down. "I thought that, y'know, you wouldn't like me because-because last year-"

"You were brilliant, Neville," Travis soothed. "Sorry for being so rough, man."

"Yeah, and I heard you clobbered Crabbe and Goyle the other day," Brian added, punching the wimpy Gryffindor on the shoulder.

"Takes a lotta guts to stand up to those meatheads, dude," James said admiringly. "Hell, I can't even beat up an old geezer like Filch!"

Neville blushed at their compliments, obviously not knowing what to do with them. He seemed to relax a bit, though and James gave him a friendly smirk. Neville returned it with a gap-toothed smile of his own and stood a little straighter.

"Say, Neville," James added pointing down the hall. "We're looking for Harry. He in the Common Room?"

"Oh, yeah, he, Ron and Hermione are doing their Charms homework. Actually managed to finish mine on time, for once," he boasted with a small surge of confidence.

"Hey hey," Travis complimented, nudging his shoulder. "Atta boy."

"Think you could let us in before you go?" James pleaded, giving him a desperate look. "Really need to talk to him.

Neville gave him a weird look but relented. Leading them down the hall, he came to portrait of the Fat Lady, who looked at the Ravenclaws with disdain. She apparently hadn't forgiven James for smearing her portrait frame with dung bombs at the end of last year. Giving the four Ravenclaws an apologetic look, Neville fished out a slip of paper, read it, and leaned forward, whispering the password to the portrait.

"Harrumph," the Fat Lady scoffed, even as she opened the portal.

Giving their thanks to Neville, who parted with them after begging them not to tell anyone he let them in, they climbed into the Gryffindor commons. A cozy stone room decked out with rich red and decadent gold silk tapestries, the Gryffindor Common was a large space that felt small and homey despite being quite large. Lounge seats and couches were situated by the fireplace, and desks and small study nooks were lined around the perimeter. Above the fire was a bas relief carving of the Gryffindor Crest, a roaring lion with it's front paws reaching out, claws extended.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were camped out on some of the lounge chairs by the fireplace. Hermione was primly finishing up her assignment, as Harry seemed to be putting his finishing touches up on his. Ron, however, had made a mess of his, with blots of ink all over and scorch marks next to or over top of most of them. James watched as Ron cast angry glares across the room at his older brother Percy before scrawling ink all over the parchment again. Growling, Ron held up his broken wand, held together by tape before Travis stepped up and pushed Ron's arm down.

"Allow me," he stated, flicking his wand and simultaneously cleaning Ron's parchment and repairing all the scorch marks.

"Thanks," the ginger muttered as he slammed his Charms book shut, Hermione doing the same.

"So," James happily greeted his brother and friends as he sat down on the arm rest of Hermione's chair and plopped back, laying across her lap. Travis camped out cross legged on an ottoman, Kiara took a seat next to Harry in her own lounge chair, and Brian pulled up a chair from one of the nearby desks and flipped it backwards, propping his arms and chin across the top of the backrest. "Whatcha doin'?"

"We were discussing how Malfoy was Slytherin's heir," Ron muttered angrily. Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement.

Before James could reply, Percy had noticed the Ravenclaws and stormed over. James rolled his eyes at Hermione, who looked worried. The shorter, slender Weasley stalked straight up to him, chest puffed out to prominently put his Prefect badge on notice, and pointed a long, pale finger at him. "What are you doing in here?"

"Hanging out with my brother," James responded easily, his stoic eyes never leaving Percy's. Percy seemed a bit perturbed by his glare, but didn't falter.

"You aren't supposed to be in another House's commons," the prefect growled. "I suggest-"

"Suggestion noted," James interrupted. "But dismissed. After all, Prefects aren't supposed to absconding their patrol duties to snog in a broom closet after hours, either, are they?"

Percy looked like he had just been slapped. "I-What-you-I never- you don't know what you're talking about-"

Brian held up two fingers, then three, then pointed behind him with a thumb. "Two weeks ago, third floor, southern corridor broom closet."

Percy paled, because he knew exactly what they were talking about.

"I mean, really," Travis continued in faux disappointment. "A broom closet? Can you be any more uncreative? At least take Penel-"

"Alright, enough! Just, just get out of here, you can't-"

James pointed across the room at the Patil twins. "You let Padma stay all night all the time, Perfect Percy Prefect. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were being... prejudiced."

Percy's eyes went wide at the accusation, and the Prefect turned heel and skulked off towards the dormitories. Ron snickered and held up his hand for a high five, which James happily returned.

"Pompous git," Ron laughed about his own brother. "You have no idea how much I needed to see that."

"Proud to be of service," James cheered even as Hermione slapped him."Anywho, you were saying?"

"We were saying that we think Malfoy is the Heir," Harry explained.

Hermione nodded. "I was skeptical, but it makes sense."

"Why for?" James asked. "Not arguing with you, just wanna hear your reasoning."

Harry held up a hand and started counting his points. "He hates muggleborns. His entire family has been in Slytherin since... ever. He openly supported the message written in blood. According to Ron's dad and what we saw in Kockturn Alley, he hoards items related to Dark Magic, and could possibly have been given the key to the Chamber of Secrets, and he has a stupid, pompous ferret face."

They all laughed heartily at that. James shook his head, causing Hermione to stir a bit underneath and he shifted to accommodate her. "As right as you are, we do, however, have to possibly disagree."

"What!?" the three Gryffindors yelled.

James showed to them his own findings. He explained Slytherin's missing family tree, the Malfoy family's own none-British origins, then finally, James explained their theory that while Malfoy could be involved, it was probable he was an accessory to the true culprit based on the evidence James had found in the genealogy book and the way he acted that night. When James mentioned he wanted to start scouting out Slytherin house, Hermione gasped like she had been struck by lightning, but said nothing as he finished.

The three Gryffindors sat in stunned silence. Hermione patted James on the shoulder, and he sat up so she could stand before slumping back over into the cushion she'd vacated. She stood in the center of the group, hip jutted out, arms crossed and chin in her hand as she ruminated. Intrigued, James flipped around so that he was sitting properly and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"There might be a way to do more than just scout," she explained softly, as to not say it too loud, looking around at them. "It'll be difficult, and risky, da-"

"Dangerous, even?" Kiara finished, rolling her eyes. "Why must everything with you all be dangerous?"

Travis grinned. "Because danger is the spice of life," he replied.

"Anyways," Hermione continued. "We will also be breaking somewhere in the ballpark of fifty school rules-"

"So, just another week with the Three Kings of Ravenclaw?" James asked sarcastically, motioning to himself, Travis and Brian. "That's kinda our calling card, 'Mione."

"Are you going to get to your point sometime in the next month?" Ron groused, looking at his watch.

"Fine," Hermione seethed coldly, a rod forming in her spine. "Perhaps you'd like to infiltrate the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy yourselves, then?"

Silence befell the group as Ron and Harry looked at each other in shock, while James, Travis, and Brian had starcrossed eyes, gazing of into the horizon, dreams of infinite possibilities of fun and mayhem. Kiara just scoffed and poked Travis in the ribs, eliciting a yelp and bringing the group back to reality.

"Really? What were you planning in your heads, stealing Slytherin girl's underwear or something?"

"It'd be a fun possibility," Brian quipped. "Glue them to Great Hall walls, with a picture of their owner underneath for extra humiliation."

Hermione smacked him on the head with a roll of parchment lightly. "Don't be a nonce."

James, enamored with the possibility of breaking into the Slytherin as he was, came down from his high. "How are we supposed to ask Malfoy about the Heir to Slytherin without knowing it was us? I mean, we're good, but that's impossible."

Hermione grinned at him, as she glowed at the implication that she knew something he didn't. "No, it isn't. You'd need polyjuice potion."

"Poly-wha?" Ron asked, confused.

"Polyjuice potion. Do you not remember Snape talking about it in class last week?"

Harry and Ron shared a look. Hermione scoffed.

"Right, lest I forget you two imbeciles don't listen to lectures in Potion class."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe if Snape wasn't the teacher, I'd consider it."

James waved their banter off. "What is it? What does it do?"

Hermione primly straightened herself and prepared to give a lecture. "Polyjuice potion is an alteration-family potion with a long brew time and allows the user to change into the physical form of another human being for a short time."

James's eyes went big and shared a similar look at Travis, who had a smile that saw his lower lip curl back over his lower teeth. They slowly nodded at each while Brian begun to giggle quietly. It was James's turn to get swatted by parchment, but he didn't mind. "Hermione, bless your heart for broadening my horizons."

She pointed a finger at him. "This is serious, James, promise me you won't use this for your no-good pranks."

James scoffed, looking faux hurt. "I would never! Never not, that is."

"We would have to change into Slytherins," Ron said slowly. "This sounds dodgy. What if we get stuck looking like a bunch of Slytherins?"

"Like I said, its temporary," Hermione explained, holding a finger up. "It only lasts about an hour before wearing off. We'd have to be quick or have to drink more to stay in character. The other caveat is that... I don't really know the recipe. Snape said it was difficult to make and took a long time to brew."

"Were do we find the recipe, then?" Brian asked.

"I don't know," Hermione sighed. "We'll have to find it, probably in the Restricted Section of the library."

James, Travis and Brian were practically brimming with excitement at the thought of breaking into the Restricted Section but Kiara waved them off. "You know, you don't need to break in, you dolts. You can just ask a teacher for permission."

James scoffed, Travis threw his hand up in the air in exasperation, Brian pouted. Ron, however, laughed at the idea. "What teacher in their right mind is going to let any of us in there? No professor is that thick..."