"I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony," Ron sighed as he gazed down at his transfiguration homework. "But I never knew he started all this pure-blood stuff. I wouldn't be in his house if you paid me– no offense you lot."

The Slytherin's present only shrugged.

"Well, it also helps that we all don't think like that," said Draco with a heavy sigh, "honestly… Just because there's been a couple of bad eggs, doesn't mean the eternity of the house is like that."

"Right," muttered Ron, flushing. "Sorry, I didn't mean– you know I was only–"

"Hiya, Arabella! Hiya Lyla!"

Colin Creevey had found them and was dashing towards them as if his life depended on it.

"Hello, Colin," said Lyla automatically.

"Arabella— Lyla— a boy in my class has been saying you're the Heir of Slytherin!"

Everyone stared at the first year as if he'd sprouted three extra heads.

"That would explain why Anthony Goldstein ran away when I saw him last," mused Lyla sadly

"People, they'll believe anything they hear," said Draco in disgust.

"D'you really think there's a Chamber of Secrets?" asked Ron, looking at the blonde Slytherin from the corner of his eyes.

"Just how would I know that?" he responded coldly. "Just because my father has a dark reputation, I'd appreciate it if you thought of me as my own, separate person, Weasley."

"Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs. Norris, correct?" interrupted Blaise. "That makes me think that whatever attacked her might not have been human."

As he spoke, a flash of lightning streaked across the window that faced them, and Arabella shivered.

Half an hour later, the small group found themselves turning a corner to face the very spot where the attack 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 in red.

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

The corridor was deserted.

"Can't hurt to have a poke around," said Daphne, dropping her bag and getting on her hands and knees so that she could crawl along, searching for clues.

"Scorch marks!" she said minutes i. "Here— and here—"

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

Daphne 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 Daphne in surprise, "have any of you?"

Draco shook his head, while Blaise and Theodore gazed down in confusion. Ron, however, was standing well back and seemed to be fighting the impulse to run.

"What's up with you?" asked Lyla, tilting her head to the side.

"I— don't— like— spiders," said Ron through his teeth.

"Really?" asked Daphne, looking at Ron in surprise. "You've used spiders in Potions loads of times..."

"I don't mind them dead," replied Ron shortly, 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... and..."

He broke off, shuddering. Hermione was obviously still trying not to laugh.

Feeling they had better get off the subject, Arabella 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?" asked Blaise.

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

"Oh, Ron, there won't be anyone in there," said Lyla, 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 Arabella 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. Daphne put her fingers to her lips and set off toward the end stall. When she reached it she said,

"Hello, Myrtle, how are you?"

Moaning Myrtle was floating above the tank of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin.

"This is a girls' bathroom," she said, eyeing the boys suspiciously. "They're not girls."

"No," Arabella agreed. "We 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,' Draco mouthed at Hermione.

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

"Nothing at all," said Draco. "We only wanted to ask—"

"Oh I wish people would stop talking behind my back!" howled 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 Daphne sweetly. "Only —"

"No one wants to upset me!? That's a good one!" chortled 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 swiftly. "Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door on Halloween."

"Did you see anyone near here that night?" asked Theo carefully.

"I don't know… 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 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.

Everyone stood with their mouths open, but Hermione and Daphne only shrugged.

"Honestly, that was almost cheerful for Myrtle…" sighed Daphne. "Come on, let's go."

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

"BOYS!"

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

"That's a girls' bathroom!" he gasped. His eyes widened, even more, when he caught sight of the others "Just what were you—?"

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

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

"Get— away— from— there—!" Percy spat, 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?" asked 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 over-excited 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.

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