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Chapter Nine: Herbal Prophecy
Beth felt a sharp jostle from behind. Argus Filch was shoving through the crowd, shouting, "What's going on in here? What's going on?"
He saw the message. Then he saw his cat. He let out a horrible gasp and staggered backward, grasping at his neck and face.
"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" He noticed the three students standing huddled together, Potter in the front, and his face flushed instantly. "You! You've murdered my cat! I'll kill you! I'll --"
"Argus!"
Albus Dumbledore came sweeping down the corridor. Beth lost sight of him behind the stricken figure of Filch, but when he moved back into sight, he had the cat in his hand and more teachers had surrounded him. Now Dumbledore was speaking to Filch, the students, and the other teachers. Beth couldn't make out what he was saying, despite the fact that the hall was deathly silent.
In an instant, Dumbledore strode down the hall, cat in hand and teachers in tow.
Beth felt a nudge from behind. It was Richard. "We're meeting right now," he whispered in her ear, so close that it made her cheek tingle. Then he moved on to the other members. Beth turned and started working her way back through the crowd.
"Oy, Beth! What's going on up there?"
Aaron Pucey was trying to fight his way to the front of the crowd, but not having much luck. "Filch's cat got killed and hung off the wall," she told him hurriedly. His eyes lit up.
"About time! What's the writing say?" Beth repeated the cryptic message in red paint. Aaron let out an impressed whistle. "Wish I could make it up there to see it myself!"
"Uh -- I'm moving to the back so that everybody else can get up to the front," Beth lied. "Maybe there's some room for you."
"Thanks, Beth!" Aaron beamed. He resumed worming his way through the crowd. Beth gave him a little nervous grin, and plunged through the mob in the other direction.
Getting to the Vase Room, with all of the students about, was not an easy task. Twice Beth was asked where she was going; both times she had to pretend to be on the way to the bathroom. It must have been just her, though; almost everyone else was already there by the time Beth finally uttered the password and slipped into the Vase Room.
If she thought it would be any more calm than the hallways, she was sorely mistaken. Half of the members were vigorously narrating what they had seen. The ones who weren't close enough to actually see what had happened hung on the words of those who had. Vivian seemed especially alarmed at the death of Mrs. Norris.
"She never bothered me," she said, sounding a little distraught. "It's not going to be the same without her. And poor Filch! He's lost his only friend."
"That's right, anyway," muttered Herne, who after the whole frog-brains incident was not at all keen on Filch or his cat.
Richard came into the Vase Room, his eyes alight with excitement. "Riggs can't come, the prefects have to meet with Dumbledore," he announced, striding toward the podium. "He said he'd use the Ledger himself later. Right now, we're checking this out ourselves." He threw open the Ledger and almost shouted, "The Chamber of Secrets!"
The pages of the Ledger flipped madly, throwing up a cloud of dust. It slowed and eventually fell open to a page near the back. The S.S.A crowded around it, anxious to get a look. Richard shooed them away.
"Just listen. It says, from the top of the page: 'Salazar Slytherin, finally fed up with Gryffindor, created a hidden room deep within the castle, unknown to the other founders. In it he placed the means to avenge his house's honor and to rid the school of unworthy students. Only his true heir would be able to open the room and use this avenger.'"
"Unworthy students? Who's that?" wondered Bruce.
"And what's this avenger?" Vivian asked, intrigued.
"It might be in here if you let me finish!" snapped Richard. He cleared this throat. "Ever since, the Chamber of Secrets has laid in undisturbed wait for the heir of Slytherin to open the room and control the avenger."
"Enemies of the Heir, beware!" Melissa recited eagerly. "That's it! The Heir of Slytherin!"
Richard glared at her in exasperation. "Do you mind?" He looked back down at the page. His face fell. "That's all," he admitted sheepishly.
"Well, what's on the page before that?" Vivian asked reasonably. "That might tell us more. You did only ask for the Chamber of Secrets, after all."
Richard flipped a page back and scanned it quickly. "Says that Slytherin and Gryffindor had a fight over whether or not to let Muggle-borns into the school. I'll bet that's what he meant by unworthy students."
Beth's jaw dropped. "That's ridiculous!" she blurted, thinking of her Muggle father.
"Salazar was always big on pure blood," Richard shrugged. "Even the Sorting Hat knows it. I don't even know of any Slytherins that aren't all-wizard on both sides."
"There's a few," Beth muttered darkly.
Herne had noticed something else. "If the enemies of the Heir are muggle-borns, why did he kill a cat of all things?"
There was silence as the question was considered. "Well, maybe Filch is muggle-born," Vivian suggested. Melissa disagreed.
"Filch is a very common wizarding name," she said, rather snobbily. "My parents know loads of them. He's as pureblood as I am. Besides, what kind of Muggle would name their kid Argus?"
"Well --" Beth said, half to draw attention away from the pureblood/muggle-born question, "-- maybe the cat just got in the way. Stumbled by when he was writing on the wall. So he killed her so she wouldn't go darting back to Filch."
"Here's a better question," Evan spoke up. He stood a little apart from the group, and the shadow from a large vast cast his features in sharp relief. "Who was he?"
Richard smiled a little. "That's it. Who's the Heir of Slytherin? Who opened the Chamber of Secrets?"
"He must be related to Slytherin somehow," Daedalus reckoned quietly. "Great-great-grandson, maybe. Or he shares the same ideas. He's got to be in our house."
Melissa turned on him, eyes flashing. "How do you know it was a he? It might have been a girl."
Daedalus drew back looking alarmed. "Might be," he agreed hastily.
Evan joined in again, his voice low and cool. "Is it any of us?"
There followed ten affirmations of innocence.
"It's been opened before," said Mervin. "Remember? Check Tom Riddle's entry."
At the sound of the name, the pages of the Ledger whirled until it came to the log of members. Richard read: "Tom Riddle, age 66. Skills: Parselmouth, book charms, excellent leadership abilities. Current location, deceased. Former Prefect and Head Boy. Wand: Yew and phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches. Closed the Chamber of Secrets. Raised in a Muggle orphanage." He grinned up at Mervin. "What do you know, you're right! Let's see, Riddle was here from '38 to '46. That means the Chamber was closed around fifty years ago. But why is it back open now?" He closed the Ledger and looked around at them. He was positively beaming.
"I don't know who the Heir is or why he -- uh, or she -- killed a cat or where they came from. But there are two things I do know. One, if it's the Heir of Slytherin, we're the safest group of people in the school. Two, if we find out what's going on, that means a lot of glory for our house. We'd get hundreds of house points, win the cup back for sure. This is our chance to make up for last year." His eyes were alight with the kind of ambition that Beth knew only came from Slytherin house. "We're going to find the heir and find out what he wants. Keep your eyes open. This is our moment. We're going to crack this secret or die trying."
Beth shuddered at a sudden chill. She thought that Richard would definitely live up to his promise -- and it frightened her.
"It's not dead."
Beth wiped the sleep out of her eyes as she sat down to breakfast the day after Halloween. "Good morning to you."
"Filch's cat. It's not dead. It's been petrified." Melissa looked like she'd been waiting to tell Beth the news for hours. "They have it up in the hospital wing, all stiff and frozen. They're going to revive it with some mandrakes, after they're grown up."
Someone spoke up. "It's got to be a disappointment, having your work destroyed like that." A very similar voice followed: "You'll have to try extra hard next time."
They looked up. The Weasley twins and their belligerent friend Jordan stood beside the table, arms crossed and looking very smug.
"What are you trying to say?" demanded Melissa.
Jordan stepped forward. "We saw the two of you sneaking away from the scene of the crime," he accused. "Pretty suspicious if you ask me."
Beth stared at him in astonishment. "Sure, we should have waited around in case it came back," she blurted angrily.
"That would have proved our innocence," said Melissa, just as angrily.
Before Beth knew it, Bruce was standing behind them, glaring at the Weasleys with almost surprising hatred. "What," he growled, "are you doing here?"
Jordan glared right back at him. "We know it was a Slytherin who killed that cat. It's going to be one of us next, isn't it?"
"If I was the Heir, you would've been first," spat Bruce.
"Giving yourself away," snarled one of the Weasleys.
"We're on you," his brother added angrily.
A long shadow fell over them. "Is there trouble here, Mr. Bletchley? Mr. Jordan?"
Professor Snape had come up silently. The three Gryffindors looked up at him, cowed but defiant. "Just chatting," said a Weasley, unable to totally hide his sneer. "We were just leaving."
As they scurried away, Jordan cast one last glance back at the Slytherin table. His dark face was filled with more than suspicion -- it was a little fear, and a little hate. The expression in his eyes burned in Beth's mind. He was glaring at them as if he was sure he was looking at the devil himself.
That wasn't the last time Beth saw that look in someone's eyes. All week, students in the other houses would move to the other side of the hallway when she and her friends were coming, or sit around in huddles pointing at any group of Slytherins that happened to be in the library.
Beth met up with Melissa after an especially tense Alchemy class, and they walked back to the common room together.
"Salazar was crazy. This isn't helping the Slytherin cause one bit," Beth complained. "Everyone thinks it's one of us!"
"Yeah," Melissa agreed, "although you've got to admit it's nice getting a little respect. Gwernabwy," she said, and the door to the common room slid open. They stepped inside.
"I think it's funny, don't you, how everyone's driving themselves mad," Melissa went on. "Running around wondering who's the Heir of Slytherin."
Beth shushed her quickly. "Not so loud, not everybody knows about the Heir! What if somebody hears?"
"Oh don't worry," Melissa scoffed, without dropping her voice at all. "Everyone knows all about the Chamber of Secrets. They've been getting books out of the library like mad -- ask Pince -- and someone even got Binns to tell them all about it." Professor Binns, the ghost who taught history, gave lectures as dry as his own long-buried bones.
"Binns? How'd they trick him into that?"
"I'd have tried flattery." Melissa flipped her hair back. "Works every time." She waved her hand. "Anyway, it's going to be over soon. I'm going to figure out who it is."
"Uh-huh."
"Sure," said Melissa. She pulled a tea set from her backpack and started setting it up on a table beside the fire. "I'm going to read tea leaves to get it." She reached into a little cloth bag and put a pinch of tea leaves into the tea cup.
"Melissa," said Beth, "Divination is a total crock."
"It is not," said Melissa hotly. "You never know when something will come up." She lifted the tea kettle off of the fire and poured boiling water into her teacup. She swirled the leaves around to let them steep. "Besides -- I have to have a semester project, and this might as well be it."
"I hope Trelawney doesn't mind getting a prediction that doesn't make any sense."
Ignoring her, Melissa swirled the tea again and waited for it to cool down. "Divination is all about interpretation," she said snobbily. "It's not a matter of being able to see the future, it's being able to interpret the signs. Anything we get from the tea leaves can help us narrow it down."
"Right, we can get it down to Oolong or Earl Grey."
"You are not funny," said Melissa.
She dipped a finger in the tea to test it. Satisfied, she picked it up. "Who is the Heir of Slytherin?" she asked dramatically, then downed the tea in one long gulp.
She put the cup back down with a grimace. "Too bad sugar negates all of the magic in the tea." Picking up her copy of Unfogging the Future, she started to flip through the chapter on tea leaves.
Beth peeked into the teacup. "That one looks like a marijuana leaf. Maybe the Heir's a junkie."
"What?"
"Just Muggle talk, sorry."
Melissa picked up the teacup and peered inside. "All right. I'll read it and you look up the signs." She thrust the open book into Beth's hands. "First -- that one looks like a ... a lobster."
Rolling her eyes, Beth bent over the book. "A lobster. Means a secret, puzzle or riddle."
"See? It's the Chamber of Secrets. This isn't just bunk. Next -- that's a key. Definitely."
"Key ..." Beth flipped to another page. "No keys."
"Well -- anything that looks like a key?"
Beth scanned the list of symbols. "There's a tree."
Tilting her head, Melissa looked back into the teacup. "Okay, it looks like a sideways tree. What's that?"
"A tree indicates demonic possession, taking over a body, or, more generally, impersonation." Beth had to admit it was kind of fun to interpret the signs, since it wasn't for class. "What next?"
"An arch -- a rainbow."
Beth read through the list. "Is it more wiggly on top or bottom?"
"Top."
"It means the color red then. Anything else?"
"Yeah, two -- a ball of yarn and some kind of rodent."
"Ball of yarn. That means hair." Beth laughed. "A very useful symbol, all the great soothsayers predicted stuff about hair. And a rodent ... does it look more like a rabbit or a weasel?"
"Definitely a weasel," said Melissa.
"A weasel," Beth read, "means nothing more than a weasel."
Melissa's face fell. "That's all the leaves -- the rest is just broken up." She took a breath. "All right, what is it when you put it all together?"
Beth thought about it. "A riddle taking over the body of a red-furred weasel."
There was a pause. Then, together, they started to laugh.
Melissa chucked the tea leaves in the fire. "All right, it is a crock. Maybe I'd better do my project on crystals."
Riggs wandered over to the fire. He was reading a letter and frowning. He looked up at them and his expression cleared. "Aha, tea! Mind if I have a cup?"
"Sure," said Melissa, "it didn't do us any good."
Riggs set down his letter and conjured a mug from thin air. While he was making his tea, Beth glanced down at the letter. All she could see was the ending:
"You're writing to Rothbard?" she said.
Riggs sat back down, stirring his tea. "Yes -- yes, I thought he may have some insight on the Chamber of Secrets." He picked up the letter and put it in his pocket. "He was less than helpful."
"Have you read the Ledger yet?" asked Melissa in a low voice, looking around to be sure no one was listening.
"About the Chamber? Mm hmm," said Riggs, taking a drink of tea. He made a face. "Ugh, this is Herbal Prophecy, isn't it?"
"It's defective," said Melissa glumly. "It told us that the Heir of Slytherin was a riddle in the body of a red-furred weasel."
Riggs gave her an odd look. "Really," he said slowly. "That's very ... Nostradamus-quality."
"What did Rothbard say?" Beth pressed.
Riggs waved his hand. "Not much useful. He said it was a dark spot in the history of the Slytherin house and that we oughtn't dig too deeply. Balderdash if you ask me. I'm writing to some other alumni to hear their take on it." He took another sip of tea, and screwed up his face again. "Warn me next time you offer me divination tea, will you?"
"Only if you warn me next time you want to drink my homework assignment," said Melissa.