Chapter Thirty- Four – The Chamber of Secrets
The fear that had gripped the student body ever since Colin Creevy had been petrified reached a breaking point the next morning as students from all four houses were escorted to the Great Hall for breakfast and noticed the headmaster's empty chair. Confusion soon turned to foreboding, and then outright panic as Professor McGonagall rose from her place to announce that until further notice, the daily operations of Hogwarts would be overseen by herself, as Deputy Headmistress. Harry had not realized the impact Dumbledore's absence would have on the rest of the school, but with him gone, the threat of the school closing seemed imminent.
Draco Malfoy did not make matters any easier. He was only too eager to share that his father had played a significant role in removing the headmaster from his post. But only his usual crowd of admirers shared his triumph. With the exception of Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson, the rest of Slytherin House seemed to resent Draco's family for removing the one person who could possibly stop further harm to their fellow students.
Draco, sensing the hostility of his listeners, was quick to share the other fact he had learned from this father – Hagrid's arrest.
"The mudbloods won't have anything to worry about now," Draco confidently told Crabbe and Goyle, though he wasn't bothering to keep his voice down, "With the great oaf gone,there won't be any more attacks."
"You think Hagrid is the Heir of Slytherin, then?" asked Harry. He had been eavesdropping, and could not suppress this comment.
"A half-blood buffoon like him?" Draco said carelessly, knowing very well that Harry was friends with the gamekeeper. "Of course not. But I suppose the real heir will stop now, since he's found a perfect scapegoat. I wish I could congratulate him on such a cunning plan! Now we're rid of both Dumbledore and a disgusting half-breed at once!"
Harry was both angry, and more confused than ever. It was obvious that Draco thought Harry was the Heir of Slytherin. But Blaise had been convinced that Draco was behind the attacks, using some key given to him by his father. Harry was forced to admit that either Draco was a very good actor, or they had been on the wrong track from the start.
Harry was dying for another clue. Every spare moment was dedicated to research. His class assignments fell to the wayside as he poured over books on magical creatures, defensive spells, and enchanted artifacts. But studying had never been Harry's forte, and he was not making much progress.
What he needed he couldn't readily obtain. The restricted section was bound to have books on dark magic, and Harry wanted to find out more about the item Lucius Malfoy had sent to Hogwarts. But with the teachers on high-alert, and Harry being one of the most suspect students in the school, permission was not likely to be granted.
There was, however, one teacher that seemed immune to the gloom that plagued the others. Three days after Dumbledore and Hagrid had left the school, Lockhart bounded into their Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom looking nothing short of exuberant.
The class, collectively, stared at him in disbelief.
"Come now!" he cried, bestowing his gleaming white smile on each of their faces in turn, "Why so glum? Don't you all realize that the danger has passed! The culprit has been taken away!"
"How can you be sure?" asked Daphne Greengrass..
"My dear girl," said Lockhart with a fond expression. Daphne was easily the prettiest girl in Harry's year. "The Minister for Magic himself came to arrest Hagrid. I'm sure he would not have done so if he wasn't absolutely sure of his guilt."
"Doubtful," said Crabbe, his meaty arms folded over his chest. He glanced to Draco on his left, as if looking for his approval. Draco gave him a slight smirk and resumed doodling in the margins of his Gadding with Ghouls textbook.
Lockhart pretended he hadn't heard Crabbe's comment, and began class with a rousing explanation of how he would have arrested Hagrid himself, had the Minister only called for his assistance.
To make matters worse, McGonagall had not canceled their exams. As the interim headmistress, she was determined to conduct business as usual, which meant heaping loads of assignments on the students as winter snows melted away to make room for spring. Harry's fervent researching, fruitless as ever, forced aside by new anxieties.
"Do you think Blaise will be held back a year?" Harry asked Millie as they attempted to cram as much information about the many uses of dragon's blood into their potions essays as possible.
Millie merely grunted and kept her face hidden behind a large textbook.
"Mrs. Zabini will probably be homeschooling him, but will they send him his exams?" Harry mused allowed. It was bad enough being separated from Blaise all of second term. He couldn't stand the thought of his friend being left behind a year, never to take any classes with Harry again.
"And what about practical exams?" Harry continued, "How are they supposed to test for that?"
"Harry, he will be lucky if his mum lets him return to Hogwarts at all," Millie said testily, and Harry was silenced. It hadn't occurred to him that Mrs. Zabini might enroll him in another school. She was a graduate of Beauxbatons herself, and might easily reconsider her son's education given the current circumstances.
Relief finally came a few days before the start of their first exams. Professor McGonagall made an announcement to the school during their evening meal. The Mandrakes were matured at last. Everyone who had been petrified would be cured that very evening.
Cries of joy erupted from every side. Harry couldn't stop grinning as he saw his fellow classmates exchange hugs with those around them, thankful to hear that their petrified friends would soon return.
Harry hazarded a glance down the Slytherin table toward Herbivorous Pandey, curious to see how Colin's friend took the news of the Mandrake's harvest. He was pleased to see that even the surly Pandey had an unmistakable expression of happiness on his face as he accepted several pats on the back from the other first-years surrounding him.
Harry then turned toward Millie, seated across from him at their table. He expected her to look just as pleased as everyone else. She would finally get her cat back, the first of the petrified victims. But to his surprise, Millie looked more downcast than ever.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, leaning across the table to be heard over the general noise while keeping his voice low.
Millie glanced fearfully left and right, then leaned closer to Harry as well.
"Harry..." she said slowly, so quiet that Harry practically had to read her lips to understand, "There's something I need to tell you."
"You must be disappointed, Potter!" called a voice not far from where they were sitting.
Draco was leaning forward in his seat, smirking at Harry from between the massive forms of Crabbe and Goyle. The excited conversation filling the Great Hall after McGonagall's announcement had not abated, but Draco had raised his voice loud enough to be heard by those around him.
"Piss off, Malfoy," Harry called back, knowing that Draco's next words would be nothing but further insinuations against him.
"All your hard work wasted!" Draco continued, exactly as if he hadn't heard Harry. "Why didn't you take care of Granger when you had a chance? No one would have missed the know-it-all."
Harry jumped out of his seat and slammed his hands down on the table. The students nearest to him flinched in alarm and scooted away from him, crowding into their neighbors.
"Why don't you ask yourself?" he shouted, "You had the opportunity, why not take it?"
Draco's face paled slightly as a small frown wrinkled the flesh between his brows.
"I'm not the Heir of Slytherin," he said plainly.
Harry was starting to believe him, but he was still too angry to stop himself from shouting, "Well, I'm not the one whose father is hiding dark magic in the floor of his sitting room!"
Draco's white face now turned scarlet, and he rose from his seat, fists clenched at his sides as he yelled, "At least I have a father!"
"I'd rather be an orphan than the Heir of Slytherin!" Harry screamed back, the stress and worry he'd been holding back for weeks finally bursting forth.
A loud bang shocked them both out of their argument. Some nearby students screamed while others turned to look at the source of the noise. Millie had drawn her wand and cast a spell to break up the fight before it could get worse. She looked at Harry, a pained expression on her face, then she silently rose from her seat and made a hasty retreat out of the Great Hall.
"Ms. Bulstrode! You need a chaperone!" cried Professor McGonagall, seeing the disturbance among the Slytherin students and swooping down from the faculty table. She dashed past Harry and Draco in her haste to keep an eye on Millie, but she was closely followed by Professor Snape, who slithered toward Harry, demanding an explanation.
"Why don't you ask him?" Harry asked, still too angry to attempt diplomacy with his most hated teacher, "Malfoy is the one who started it."
Harry stalked angrily toward the doors to the Great Hall, not caring if Snape took away points or gave him detention for his attitude. He felt a hand on his wrist and assumed that Snape had come to stop him from leaving without a chaperone, as Millie had done. He nearly snapped at the person before realizing it was Neville.
"Harry!" he said with a nervous look, "What's happened? We could hear you fighting with Malfoy all the way over at the Gryffindor table."
"It's nothing," Harry said, relaxing his shoulders and forcing himself to smile, "At least the mandrakes are ready. You'll have Hermione back by tomorrow."
Neville, relieved to see Harry more at ease, reached for the pocket of his robes and drew out a crumpled piece of paper.
"That's why I wanted to talk to you, Harry," Neville said, "I was in the hospital wing visiting Hermione earlier today, and I found this in her hand."
Harry felt a thrill of excitement as Neville handed it to him. This had been with Hermione when she was petrified. It was agonizing to think it had been there all this time, if only someone had looked, but now at least he held what might be his first clue after talking with Aragog.
Harry carefully smoothed the paper in his hands, as if afraid it would tear. It appeared to be a page torn from a textbook. The words were printed in thick black letters, the font and the color of the parchment indicating that it must be from a very old book. Harry read...
Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.
The hairs on the back of Harry's neck and arms raised as he read the passage. Everything about the Basilisk matched their theories about the creature in the Chamber, and he knew that Hermione had done it. She had found the truth, and was probably on her way to tell them when she was petrified. To complete it all, written beneath the passage in neat, clear handwriting was one word. Pipes.
"This is it, isn't it, Harry? We always thought it was a snake, and Hermione found the right one!It's been traveling through the pipes, see? That's why you're able to hear it and no one else can..."
Harry quickly read through the passage a second time. He agreed with Neville, but there was one piece that didn't quite add up.
"It says here that the Basilisk can kill you just by looking at you, but no one has died. They've only been petrified."
Harry expected Neville to lose some of his enthusiasm, but his grin remained firmly in place. "I've been thinking about that too," he said, "But actually, no one has looked at it directly. Colin had his camera when he was petrified, didn't he? Willowby saw it through the Grey Lady, and the Grey Lady... Well, she's already a ghost, and she can't very well die twice, can she? As for Hermione, she must have realized it too, because she had the mirror in her other hand. She must have been using it to check around corners!"
Harry stared at Neville in amazement.
"Wow..." he said after processing the information Neville had just shared with him, "That's actually pretty clever, Neville."
The Gryffindor blushed, but he didn't back away from the compliment, saying, "Well, I can't hang around Hermione all year without picking up a few things."
Something still bothered Harry. He thought of Mamon, the first of the victims, and the only animal to be attacked. Had he been spared because he wasn't a human? Harry didn't think it seemed likely, as Spiders still feared the Basilisk... Then he remembered the water. Mamon had been found near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom on the first floor. She had flooded it that day, and the water was all over the floor. Harry could still remember laughing at Millie's drenched robes. Mamon could have followed his master, and seen the reflection of the beast in the puddles on the ground. Harry shivered to think of it. Millie may have been deadly close to the creature, and only escaped with her life because a gloomy ghost had flooded the bathroom.
Harry froze. Everything suddenly clicked into place. He looked down at Hermione's note again, at the single word scrawled at the bottom of the page. Pipes.
"Neville," said Harry, his voice barely above a whisper, "The spider we talked to... Aragog... He said that when the Chamber was opened before, a girl died. Do you remember where?"
Neville's smile faded at the memory of that night, but he answered Harry without a tremor in his voice, "He said she was found in a bathroom, didn't he?"
Harry nodded, Neville's memory confirming his own.
"What if she never left?"
Neville didn't appear to understand, and Harry realized he might not know about the haunted girl's toilet.
"Moaning Myrtle!" Harry hissed at him eagerly, "She's the ghost of a student who haunts a bathroom! The same bathroom near where the message was found!"
Neville gasped, "Harry, you don't think...?"
"It's the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets," Harry said confidently, "It has to be."
"But Harry, a girl's bathroom?"
Harry waved away his doubts, stating, "This school is hundreds of years old. Maybe something else once hid the entrance to the chamber. The point is, this whole thing ended there fifty years ago, and started again in the same exact spot. We have to at least check it out."
"We?" asked Neville, his voice cracking slightly, "Harry, I went into the spider's hollow with you, but I'm not about to go investigate a haunted toilet where a Basilisk might be hiding! We need to tell a teacher."
Harry hated to admit it, but Neville had a point. It was time for some adult supervision.
"Alright, we tell McGonagall," he said. Professor McGonagall was not only the interim headmistress, but also Neville's head of house. They both agreed that Neville would have a better chance of convincing her than Harry.
A chance seemed to present itself as Professor McGonagall sailed back into the Great Hall, passing by Harry and Neville, who had been holding their discourse near the grand oak doors.
"Professor!" Neville cried, surprised to see her return in such haste so suddenly after their resolution was formed.
But Professor McGonagall dismissed him with a quick, "Not now, Mr. Longbottom," and made her way to the faculty table, where Professor Sprout and Snape rose to meet her, their expressions darkening at the news she shared with them. Harry saw Professor Snape's gaze shift abruptly to meet his, and he didn't like the way the Potions Master was eyeing him.
After consulting with the teachers, McGonagall turned to face the students, who watched her with worried expressions from their seats. Her abrupt entrance had not escaped the notice of many, and the cheerful conversation quickly died away into a tense stillness. McGonagall motioned for silence, but the gesture was unnecessary, as she already had the entire school's attention.
Raising her voice to be heard clearly throughout the hall without the help of her wand, she announced, "All students will be escorted to their dormitories by their Head of House immediately. Prefects, please assist the younger students."
Harry gave a start of surprise, and he was not alone. Turning to Neville, he saw the Gryffindor's mouth hanging open in shock. A moment ago they had considered themselves safe, but an announcement like this could only mean one thing.
While the rest of the student body recovered from their shock, the prefects wasted no time in rising from their seats. With guidance from the four House Heads, the students filed out of the Great Hall. Harry gripped Neville's hand just before the Gryffindor was pulled away by the tide of students pushing toward the doors.
"Tell McGonagall," he said, then he turned to join the Slytherins.
Gemma Farley had a troop of first-years nervously gathered around her. She smiled at Harry as if to encourage him, but he could see the worry in her eyes. Snape took the lead of his students, walking swiftly toward the dungeons, leaving Adrian Pucey to follow behind, ensuring that no one attempted to slip away.
Snape was moving so fast, many students had to jog to keep up with the crowd. Harry almost missed an opportunity to glance down the corridor that led to Myrtle's bathroom. It was tempting to slip his cloak on right then, and walk down the corridor to put an end to this mystery once and for all. But Pucey was keeping a close eye on everyone, and Harry couldn't risk it. Still, he couldn't stop himself from glancing down the hall, and when he did, he stopped dead in his tracks.
The Chamber of Secrets Has been Opened... The message was still there, as clear as the day it had first appeared. But now, scrawled beneath it in what appeared to be blood as a second message.
Her Skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.
Harry saw at it for only a moment before Pucey gave him a shove, ordering him to keep walking. Harry turned his head. From the dark look on his face, Harry knew that Pucey had seen the message too. But it seemed many students passed the corridor without noticing anything amiss, and Pucey likely did not want to start a panic. Harry obeyed him without protest, and with a feeling of foreboding, continued down the steps to the dungeons.
He didn't yet understand what this new message implied. A student had been taken, surely, but who? Everyone except the petrified students in the hospital wing had been in the Great Hall, and curfew was strictly enforced. Then he remembered. One student had fled the Great Hall, just before Harry stopped to speak to Neville. McGonagall followed, but she had returned alone. Harry swiveled his head left and right, searching the faces of the students around him. Where was Millie?
He guessed the truth as soon as he walked through the door of the common room, and Snape laid a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't exactly comforting, but his grip as he drew Harry away from the other students was not cruel, either.
"Potter," he said, "I think you had better come with me."
"It's Millie, isn't it?" Harry asked, "She's been taken."
Snape said nothing in response, confirming Harry's worst fears. Dropping his hand without ceremony, Snape led the way to his office, near the classroom where Harry usually had Potions. Snape ushered Harry inside, closing the door and bolting it behind him. He did not offer Harry a seat, and so Harry did not take one. He merely stood in the middle of the room, shivering slightly, and looking around at the creatures floating in glass jars on the shelves of Snape's office.
"You saw the message, I take it?" Snape asked.
Harry nodded. "Is she dead?"
The news had broken over him so suddenly that he was still overcome by shock. He could ask the question in a flat voice, devoid of emotion, while inside chaos reigned.
Snape studied Harry carefully, as if not sure how to respond. Harry feared the worst until Snape finally opened his mouth and replied, "No... Professor McGonagall does not believe so."
"And you, sir?" Harry asked, trusting that this teacher above all others would have no reason to lie to him to spare his feelings.
"I think..." Snape said slowly, again carefully measuring his words, "That she is likely to die if something is not done very soon."
"I don't know who did it," Harry said instantly, some of the shock starting to die away, and true terror gripping his heart, "Believe me, I've been trying. If I could prove who it was I would have turned them in already. Everyone thinks it's me, but I would never, ever do anything to hurt my friends."
Snape shushed him with an impatient wave of his hand.
"No one is accusing you, Potter. Even I could see that you were in the Great Hall when Ms. Bulstrode disappeared. But I am asking you if you know anything. I know you and your little friends have been poking your nose in business that doesn't concern you. That doesn't matter now. If you have any information, you have to tell me now, or it may cost your friend her life."
Harry wanted to tell him everything. He wanted to tell him all about Dobby, about Lucius Malfoy and his dark magic, about Draco and how suspicious he'd been acting all school year. But Draco Malfoy was Snape's favorite student. Hadn't Harry heard him boast just the other day that his father was sure to support Snape if he wanted to take Dumbledore's vacant seat? Harry could no more trust Snape with his suspicions than he could trust Gilderoy Lockhart to write a book based on fact.
There was only one piece of information Harry felt he could safely share with the Potions Master, and it was the one most likely to save Millie's life.
"It's a basilisk," Harry said, "The creature in the chamber. It's a snake that can..."
"I know what a basilisk is," Snape interrupted, "But how do you know this?"
"I can talk to snakes, remember? I've been hearing a voice, just before each attack, but no one else seems to hear it. I think that's because I'm the only one who can speak parseltongue."
"Basilisks have been known to grow to enormous size." Snape stated, "Even if no one heard your snake, Potter, someone would have seen it."
Harry ran his tongue over his dry lips. "Not if it's traveling through the pipes."
"Pipes?" Snape asked, sounding dubious.
"Yes, sir. I think... I know that the entrance to the Chamber is in the girl's lavatory on the first floor. The one by the message on the wall."
Snape stared at Harry. He was obviously doubtful, and had many questions as to how Harry had come to this conclusion. But Harry could feel each second ticking away like it was another moment of Millie's life, and he knew they were losing time.
"Please, sir," Harry pleaded, not waiting for the interrogation to begin, "I don't want to lose my friend. Go see for yourself if you don't believe me!"
"That won't be necessary, Mr. Potter," said Snape smoothly, "Professor McGonagall has already dispatched Lockhart to see to the matter. I have no doubt that he is already looking into the disappearance of your friend."
The irony in his voice was not lost on Harry, and with some irritation, he responded, "Sir, I think you and I both know Lockhart's completely useless."
Harry was rewarded for this comment with a thin-lipped smile.
"Perhaps you're, right. Which is why I will be sharing your theories with Professor McGonagall myself."
"Then don't wait," Harry said, "Go to her right now and let her know. I'll tell her myself if you let me..."
"No," Snape said sharply, "Don't presume to give the orders around here, Potter. As it stands, your theory appears to be based on conjecture. I will share the information with Professor McGonagall, and allow her to decide how best to proceed."
Harry clenched his fists at his sides. Who knew how long it would be before Snape got to McGonagall. And what if she did not head his words? What if she wanted to speak to Harry herself, and ask him how he had learned all these things? Every second that passed was another moment in which Millie could be killed. Harry was not going to let that happen.
Snape dismissed him with orders to return to the common room and wait for news in his dormitory. Harry nodded, already knowing that he had no intention to obey. Snape unlocked the door to his office and ushered Harry out. Harry had only to wait until the teacher's back was turned to draw out his invisibility cloak from the roomy pocket of his robes, and once again vanish from outward view.
He ran directly to Myrtle's bathroom. The cloak was hardly necessary, as the halls were completely deserted. Harry passed only Nearly Headless Nick, nervously patrolling the corridor with the Bloody Baron at his side. Once the ghosts floated through an opposing wall, Harry took off again, arriving in Myrtle's bathroom slightly out of breath.
"Myrtle!" Harry called once the door had swung shut, pulling the cloak off his shoulders, "Myrtle, it's me. Harry Potter!"
He heard a faint gurgling sound from a nearby toilet, and the ghostly face of Myrtle popped out through the wooden stall door.
"You again!" she cried, "Haven't I told you before? This is a girl's toilet! Boys aren't allowed!"
"I'm not here for the toilet, Myrtle. I came to see you."
"Me?" Myrtle asked, sounding dubious. She floated through the door and hovered a few feet in front of Harry. Alive, she couldn't have been older than a third-year. Harry saw her looking around the bathroom, as if expecting someone to pop out from one of the other stalls and lob something at her.
"Where's your friend?" she asked.
"You mean Millie? That's why I came. You see, she's been..."
"Not her," Myrtle interrupted, wrinkling her nose at Harry, "Your other friend."
"Blaise?" Harry asked, surprised by the question. He'd been so focused on Millie, he hadn't a passing thought of his absent friend for some time. He wondered what might have prompted the question, as Blaise hadn't been in school for weeks, but then he saw Myrtle's translucent face become more opaque, and he realized that dead or not, Myrtle was still a girl.
"Blaise is gone," Harry said, "But I know of a way to get him back. I just need to ask you a question."
Myrtle looked suspicious, but didn't protest, so Harry continued.
"Can I ask... How did you die?"
He expected the question to insult the sensitive spirit, but Myrtle surprised him by looking deeply flattered.
"Oh it was dreadful!" Myrtle said with a twittering laugh, "It happened right here, in this very bathroom."
Harry felt as if his suspicions were already confirmed, but he needed a bit more to be sure. He wanted to hurry Myrtle along, but knew that interrupting the ghost would only upset her, so he waited, having no need to feign interest as Myrtle continued to talk.
"Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses," Myrtle said, obviously eager to share her story. Harry assumed she didn't often have an opportunity to tell it. "I ran into the bathroom to cry. I was completely alone, until I heard the door open and someone came in. I was hiding in a stall with the door locked, and I couldn't see who it was at first. But then I heard a voice. A boy's voice."
Myrtle paused and gave Harry a pointed look. Harry tried his best to look ashamed, but then nervously removed his own glasses while running a hand through his unruly hair.
"I'm sorry that Olive was teasing you," Harry said, at once showing that he had been listening to her story, and also sympathized with her plight. After wiping the lenses of his own glasses, he carefully placed them back on his face and offered Myrtle a smile. "Some people just don't understand what it's like having glasses."
Myrtle studied Harry's face. She did not blush for him they way she had at the mention of Blaise, but he could tell by her smirk that he had won her over.
"Anyway," she continued, "I heard a boy's voice. He was saying something funny. It almost sounded like another language, but he might have just been whispering."
"Who was he talking to?" Harry asked, momentarily forgetting his determination not to interrupt.
Fortunately, Myrtle was not insulted. She merely looked thoughtful, as if no one had ever asked her this question before.
"That's the thing. I don't think he was talking to anyone. It sounded like there was only one person. I was angry at him for interrupting me when I was upset, so I unlocked the door of my stall and stepped out to yell at him. Then I died."
There was a beat in which Harry and Myrtle merely looked at one another, then he realized what Myrtle had said.
"Sorry, what?"
"I died."
"Just like that?" asked Harry, bewildered by the anticlimax of her story. "But how? What happened?"
"I don't know," Myrtle said with a huff, crossing her arms over her translucent chest, "I just remember seeing a pair of huge, yellow eyes. Then it was like my whole body sort of seized up, and I fell to the floor, but I wasn't in my body anymore. I was sort of floating away... I came back of course. I wanted to haunt Olive, you see. And boy, was she sorry she ever made fun of my glasses!"
"But where did you hear the voice?" Harry asked, glancing around the lavatory as if he expected the beast of fifty years prior to slide out of a stall and take Harry's life as it had Myrtle's.
"There," Myrtle said, waving her hand vaguely toward the row of sinks opposite her toilet, "He had been speaking somewhere over there, and that's where I saw the eyes.
Harry hurried over to the sinks, walking down the row and inspecting each in turn. They looked perfectly ordinary. Harry doubled back, checking them all over again and examining every inch of them, including the pipes below. Then Harry found something. On one of the copper taps, a snake had been scratched along the side.
"That one's never worked," Myrtle informed Harry, seeing the fixated way in which he was staring at it.
"This has to be it," Harry whispered, still staring at the little snake.
Myrtle gave a shriek and flew back several feet. Harry turned to look at her, startled by her sudden terror.
"That's the voice!" Myrtle said, staring at Harry as if he had the power to kill her a second time, "You sound like him!"
Harry realized he must have slipped into parseltongue as he stared at the snake. It had become fairly easy for him to go back and forth between languages after practicing with Noodle all year. He felt bad for scaring Myrtle after she had helped him, but he was also elated. This meant he was on the right track. The Heir had obviously used parseltongue to open the Chamber entrance, and he probably used it to control the Basilisk, as well. Harry, as a parselmouth, could now use the same ability to save his friend.
Harry offered Myrtle the first genuine smile had shown in front of the ghost, "Don't worry, Myrtle. I'm not like him."
Harry turned back toward the sink and looked at the little snake.
"Open," Harry whispered, but the words came out as a hiss that even he could hear. He hardly knew if this would work, or if there was some other password blocking his way. Luckily, parseltongue was all he needed. The tap began to glow with a bright, white light, then it started to spin around wildly. The sink itself lowered down into the floor, revealing a dark, black tunnel where it once stood.
Myrtle drifted closer to Harry as he watched the transformation of the sink into a secret tunnel.
"Oh, wow!" she said with a gasp, "Are you going down there, Harry?"
Harry nodded his head, "I have to."
"To avenge me?"
"Huh? Oh. Yeah, sure. I guess so."
"That's sweet of you," said Myrtle, "That, or very stupid."
Harry chuckled to himself, surprised that he could find something to laugh at in a moment like this. He decided Myrtle wasn't so bad, after all. Bracing his hands against rim of the tunnel, Harry carefully lowered himself to the ground, poised at the edge of the wide pipe.
"Myrtle, can you do me one favor?" Harry asked just before he pushed himself into the abyss. "If I'm not back in thirty minutes, I want you to tell Professor Snape that he's the reason I'm dead."
Myrtle agreed to pass on his message, and without another word, Harry slid down the pipe.