Chapter 5
"Rats. All the copies of Hogwarts, a History are taken out of the library."
Hermione thumped into an armchair beside Ron in the Common Room, several volumes of thick Hogwartian History in her lap.
"Why d'you want Hogwarts, a History anyway?" Ron asked, not looking up from the Defense Against the Dark Arts paper he was writing.
"I left mine at home," Hermione explained.
Ron set down his quill exasperatedly. "Hermione, I don't mean that kind of why -- why do you want to read it again, anyway? You've read it millions of times already --"
"To read up on the Chamber of Secrets, of course," said Hermione stuffily. "Just like everyone else."
"Oh," Ron said, retrieving his quill and continuing to jot notes on the Transylvanian Vampire Bat. "Let's see . lives only in dark places, such as caves, caverns, or deep gorges. Hmm. A nocturnal species, the Vampire Bat appears only on moonless nights, when it seeks the blood of other living creatures. not something I'd want to meet."
"Oh, whatever," Hermione said haughtily, and turned to a leather-bound copy of The Autobiography of Godric Gryffindor, co-founder of Hogwarts School.
* * *
Harry was woken, near midnight, by a soft -- almost intelligible -- rap on the door. Fear crept through his being as he tiptoed to the door and stood before it, expecting the worst..
The door rattled, and then opened slowly. Harry stifled a gasp.
Standing just outside his door was the person that he least expected to see in the middle of the night, standing outside the door of his prison: Arrlimon Danady.
Danady's long black robe was torn to shreds around his thin frame, and his steely midnight-colored eyes were bloodshot and crazed.
"Need -- water," he croaked, and then collapsed in the doorway.
Harry suppressed the urge to scream at the limp form in his doorway -- and then suppressed the urge to break for freedom while the typically-locked door was open.
Suddenly footsteps pounded up the stairway. Harry quickly pulled the limp- but-breathing Danady under his bed and closed the door with a soft click. A light flared in the hallway outside -- the candlelight streamed under his door -- and loud voices called to each other as they searched for whatever the object of their curiosity was.
He heard the unmistakable voice of Lucius Malfoy cursing loudly in the other room. "The arrogance of the man -- search harder. We must find him!"
Doors slammed up and down the purple-carpeted hall outside his door, and Harry lay in his bed, feigning sleep.
Suddenly the door to his chamber flew open, and the small room flooded with the light of a brilliant white fire inside a glass orb held by Lucius Malfoy. Tearing furiously across the room he kicked the side of the bed -- and Harry sat up, reaching for his glasses.
Malfoy knocked them out of his reach, and held the glass orb towards Harry's face until he was close to blinded by the radiance of the fire inside.
"Where is he?" Malfoy said in a cold, surprisingly calm voice. "Remember, Potter, your life depends on the quality of your answer."
Harry swallowed hard. "Who, sir?" he asked weakly.
Malfoy snarled angrily. "Come, boy, don't play the fool with me! It is Arrlimon Danady I've come for --" he let out a string of loud, angry curses and then pulled the orb away from Harry's face. With a grateful sigh, Harry opened his eyes and stared hard at the pale, glittering eyes of the terribly angry Lucius Malfoy.
"I don't know who you're talking about," Harry said, contempt rising in his voice. "Furlion Daddy? I've never heard of him."
Malfoy's face contorted with fury. "You -- insolent -- boy! Nott, come here, this instant!"
Nott came up behind him, panting. He was cloaked and masked -- Harry could not identify any special features; he looked like any other servant of Voldemort -- and his hair was covered completely by a black hood. "Sir, you called?" he asked in a tired tone.
Malfoy swung around to face his colleague. "Yes, I called, Mister Nott," he snapped. "Search this room -- entirely -- and do not rest until you find the traitor Danady. Now!"
Nott bowed and proceeded to thoroughly search the closets, cabinets and even the window ledge for the missing "traitor".
Harry broke into a cold sweat, thinking of the limp and senseless man lying just under his bed. Praying that they would not search there, he waited, stony-faced, for the final outcome.
"He's not here, sir," Nott said finally -- after looking everywhere except under the four-poster bed.
Malfoy, as if reading Harry's thoughts, smiled cruelly. "Not here, you say? Then who is this?" As he spoke the last vindictive word, Malfoy jerked up the bed skirt. Harry paled, but Lucius Malfoy was not watching him. Instead he stood, gaping, at the empty space under the bed.
Harry suppressed a grin as he watched the smile on Malfoy's pale face turn to a look of blank amazement. "Goyle!" he screamed finally, calling to a large man just outside the door. "Get in here, now!"
Goyle hurried inside.
"Crawl under there," Malfoy ordered, on the verge of hysterics. "He could be wearing an Invisibility Cloak.."
Obediently, Goyle slithered under the bed and felt around in the darkness. He came out a moment later, dusting himself off with broad palms. "Not there, sir," he said gruffly. "Nothing."
Harry felt like shouting; Malfoy had no excuse to torture him now.
Lucius rounded suddenly on Harry, his eyes blazing with hatred. "You've hid him, Potter," he said through gritted teeth. "You won't escape punishment forever." he whirled around, his cloak flying out from him, and motioned Nott and Goyle out of the room.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief as the door was shut once again and the light from the orb proceeded down the hall. Then he did a double-take, remembering the empty space under the bed. But how.? Where.? Who.?
Closing his eyes firmly, he lay down on the bed and fell quickly asleep, all thoughts of the absent Danady gone from his mind.
* * *
"Hermione, let me read your composition," Ron said desperately, checking his watch.
"No, I won't," said Hermione, suddenly sever. "You've had ten days to finish it --"
"I only need another two inches, come on --"
They were sitting in the library before History of Magic class. Hermione was buried deep in The Autobiography of Godric Gryffindor, while Ron scrambled frantically to complete an essay for Professor Binns. "Please, Hermione?" he asked once more as the bell rang for History of Magic.
"I told you, no," said Hermione exasperatedly as she gathered her books together and left the library. Ron followed close behind, still scribbling on his paper.
"Just because you're all right in most subjects doesn't mean you can be so stuffy about it," he muttered. Hermione tossed her head defiantly and "hmmph"ed a bit before allowing Ron to copy a few concluding sentences from her own long scroll of parchment.
History of Magic was the dullest subject on everyone's schedule. The most exciting thing in each lesson was when Professor Binns, the only ghost- teacher, floated through the blackboard at the beginning of class.
Today was as boring as always. For half an hour Binns had droned on about the International Warlock Convention of 1289. Now something happened that had never happened before: Hermione raised her hand.
Professor Binns, glancing up from his notes, looked shocked.
"Miss -- er -- ?"
"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.
Students all over the classroom began to come out of their typical stupor. Dean Thomas, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance; Lavender Brown's head came up off her arms and Neville Longbottom's elbow slipped off his desk.
Professor Binns blinked.
"My subject is History of Magic," he said, irritated. "I deal in facts, Miss Gardener, not myths and legends." Without another word he continued with his lecture, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers --"
He stopped abruptly. Hermione's hand was waving in the air again.
"Miss Grant?"
"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"
Professor Binns was looking at her in such amazement, Ron was sure that no student had ever interrupted him before.
"Yes, one could argue that," Binns replied stuffily. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale --"
The whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns's every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. It was evident that he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.
"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see, the Chamber of Secrets .
"You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded by four brave men and women -- Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin, and Helga Hufflepuff. They built this castle here, far from Muggle homes -- for it was in a time when magic and wizards were greatly feared by non-magical persons.
"Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff founded Hogwarts so that they had a place in which they could teach carefully chosen youngsters who showed signs of magic. The school began to grow in the number of students, and Slytherin was not happy.
"Salazar Slytherin wished to be more meticulous in the choosing of students. He disliked those of Muggle birth, and wished to purge the school of all 'unclean' blood. However, the three other co-founders disagreed, and the school continued as usual.
"Soon, though, Gryffindor and Slytherin had a large argument on the subject of Muggle born wizards and witches, and Slytherin left the school in a huff.
"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said reedily, peering at the attentive class. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing.
"Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all those 'unworthy' to study magic."
There was a silence as he finished, but it wasn't the usual sleepy silence that usually filled Professor Binns's classes.
"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible, no more."
"Sir -- what exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?" Hermione asked tentatively.
"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control, Miss Galloway."
The class exchanged nervous looks.
"I tell you, the thing does not exist," said Professor Binns. "There is no Chamber and no monster."
"But, sir," Hermione persisted, "If the chamber can only be opened by the Heir of Slytherin, no one else would be able to find it."
"Nonsense, Miss Gardenia," said Binns in an aggravated tone. "If a succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found it -- "
"But you'd probably have to use Dark Magic to open it, Professor --"
"That will do," Binns said sharply. "Now, if we could proceed back to the lesson. "
A moment later he began reading monotonously from his notes again, and the class had sunk into the typical torpor once more.
"Rats. All the copies of Hogwarts, a History are taken out of the library."
Hermione thumped into an armchair beside Ron in the Common Room, several volumes of thick Hogwartian History in her lap.
"Why d'you want Hogwarts, a History anyway?" Ron asked, not looking up from the Defense Against the Dark Arts paper he was writing.
"I left mine at home," Hermione explained.
Ron set down his quill exasperatedly. "Hermione, I don't mean that kind of why -- why do you want to read it again, anyway? You've read it millions of times already --"
"To read up on the Chamber of Secrets, of course," said Hermione stuffily. "Just like everyone else."
"Oh," Ron said, retrieving his quill and continuing to jot notes on the Transylvanian Vampire Bat. "Let's see . lives only in dark places, such as caves, caverns, or deep gorges. Hmm. A nocturnal species, the Vampire Bat appears only on moonless nights, when it seeks the blood of other living creatures. not something I'd want to meet."
"Oh, whatever," Hermione said haughtily, and turned to a leather-bound copy of The Autobiography of Godric Gryffindor, co-founder of Hogwarts School.
* * *
Harry was woken, near midnight, by a soft -- almost intelligible -- rap on the door. Fear crept through his being as he tiptoed to the door and stood before it, expecting the worst..
The door rattled, and then opened slowly. Harry stifled a gasp.
Standing just outside his door was the person that he least expected to see in the middle of the night, standing outside the door of his prison: Arrlimon Danady.
Danady's long black robe was torn to shreds around his thin frame, and his steely midnight-colored eyes were bloodshot and crazed.
"Need -- water," he croaked, and then collapsed in the doorway.
Harry suppressed the urge to scream at the limp form in his doorway -- and then suppressed the urge to break for freedom while the typically-locked door was open.
Suddenly footsteps pounded up the stairway. Harry quickly pulled the limp- but-breathing Danady under his bed and closed the door with a soft click. A light flared in the hallway outside -- the candlelight streamed under his door -- and loud voices called to each other as they searched for whatever the object of their curiosity was.
He heard the unmistakable voice of Lucius Malfoy cursing loudly in the other room. "The arrogance of the man -- search harder. We must find him!"
Doors slammed up and down the purple-carpeted hall outside his door, and Harry lay in his bed, feigning sleep.
Suddenly the door to his chamber flew open, and the small room flooded with the light of a brilliant white fire inside a glass orb held by Lucius Malfoy. Tearing furiously across the room he kicked the side of the bed -- and Harry sat up, reaching for his glasses.
Malfoy knocked them out of his reach, and held the glass orb towards Harry's face until he was close to blinded by the radiance of the fire inside.
"Where is he?" Malfoy said in a cold, surprisingly calm voice. "Remember, Potter, your life depends on the quality of your answer."
Harry swallowed hard. "Who, sir?" he asked weakly.
Malfoy snarled angrily. "Come, boy, don't play the fool with me! It is Arrlimon Danady I've come for --" he let out a string of loud, angry curses and then pulled the orb away from Harry's face. With a grateful sigh, Harry opened his eyes and stared hard at the pale, glittering eyes of the terribly angry Lucius Malfoy.
"I don't know who you're talking about," Harry said, contempt rising in his voice. "Furlion Daddy? I've never heard of him."
Malfoy's face contorted with fury. "You -- insolent -- boy! Nott, come here, this instant!"
Nott came up behind him, panting. He was cloaked and masked -- Harry could not identify any special features; he looked like any other servant of Voldemort -- and his hair was covered completely by a black hood. "Sir, you called?" he asked in a tired tone.
Malfoy swung around to face his colleague. "Yes, I called, Mister Nott," he snapped. "Search this room -- entirely -- and do not rest until you find the traitor Danady. Now!"
Nott bowed and proceeded to thoroughly search the closets, cabinets and even the window ledge for the missing "traitor".
Harry broke into a cold sweat, thinking of the limp and senseless man lying just under his bed. Praying that they would not search there, he waited, stony-faced, for the final outcome.
"He's not here, sir," Nott said finally -- after looking everywhere except under the four-poster bed.
Malfoy, as if reading Harry's thoughts, smiled cruelly. "Not here, you say? Then who is this?" As he spoke the last vindictive word, Malfoy jerked up the bed skirt. Harry paled, but Lucius Malfoy was not watching him. Instead he stood, gaping, at the empty space under the bed.
Harry suppressed a grin as he watched the smile on Malfoy's pale face turn to a look of blank amazement. "Goyle!" he screamed finally, calling to a large man just outside the door. "Get in here, now!"
Goyle hurried inside.
"Crawl under there," Malfoy ordered, on the verge of hysterics. "He could be wearing an Invisibility Cloak.."
Obediently, Goyle slithered under the bed and felt around in the darkness. He came out a moment later, dusting himself off with broad palms. "Not there, sir," he said gruffly. "Nothing."
Harry felt like shouting; Malfoy had no excuse to torture him now.
Lucius rounded suddenly on Harry, his eyes blazing with hatred. "You've hid him, Potter," he said through gritted teeth. "You won't escape punishment forever." he whirled around, his cloak flying out from him, and motioned Nott and Goyle out of the room.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief as the door was shut once again and the light from the orb proceeded down the hall. Then he did a double-take, remembering the empty space under the bed. But how.? Where.? Who.?
Closing his eyes firmly, he lay down on the bed and fell quickly asleep, all thoughts of the absent Danady gone from his mind.
* * *
"Hermione, let me read your composition," Ron said desperately, checking his watch.
"No, I won't," said Hermione, suddenly sever. "You've had ten days to finish it --"
"I only need another two inches, come on --"
They were sitting in the library before History of Magic class. Hermione was buried deep in The Autobiography of Godric Gryffindor, while Ron scrambled frantically to complete an essay for Professor Binns. "Please, Hermione?" he asked once more as the bell rang for History of Magic.
"I told you, no," said Hermione exasperatedly as she gathered her books together and left the library. Ron followed close behind, still scribbling on his paper.
"Just because you're all right in most subjects doesn't mean you can be so stuffy about it," he muttered. Hermione tossed her head defiantly and "hmmph"ed a bit before allowing Ron to copy a few concluding sentences from her own long scroll of parchment.
History of Magic was the dullest subject on everyone's schedule. The most exciting thing in each lesson was when Professor Binns, the only ghost- teacher, floated through the blackboard at the beginning of class.
Today was as boring as always. For half an hour Binns had droned on about the International Warlock Convention of 1289. Now something happened that had never happened before: Hermione raised her hand.
Professor Binns, glancing up from his notes, looked shocked.
"Miss -- er -- ?"
"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.
Students all over the classroom began to come out of their typical stupor. Dean Thomas, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance; Lavender Brown's head came up off her arms and Neville Longbottom's elbow slipped off his desk.
Professor Binns blinked.
"My subject is History of Magic," he said, irritated. "I deal in facts, Miss Gardener, not myths and legends." Without another word he continued with his lecture, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers --"
He stopped abruptly. Hermione's hand was waving in the air again.
"Miss Grant?"
"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"
Professor Binns was looking at her in such amazement, Ron was sure that no student had ever interrupted him before.
"Yes, one could argue that," Binns replied stuffily. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale --"
The whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns's every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. It was evident that he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.
"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see, the Chamber of Secrets .
"You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded by four brave men and women -- Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin, and Helga Hufflepuff. They built this castle here, far from Muggle homes -- for it was in a time when magic and wizards were greatly feared by non-magical persons.
"Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff founded Hogwarts so that they had a place in which they could teach carefully chosen youngsters who showed signs of magic. The school began to grow in the number of students, and Slytherin was not happy.
"Salazar Slytherin wished to be more meticulous in the choosing of students. He disliked those of Muggle birth, and wished to purge the school of all 'unclean' blood. However, the three other co-founders disagreed, and the school continued as usual.
"Soon, though, Gryffindor and Slytherin had a large argument on the subject of Muggle born wizards and witches, and Slytherin left the school in a huff.
"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said reedily, peering at the attentive class. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing.
"Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all those 'unworthy' to study magic."
There was a silence as he finished, but it wasn't the usual sleepy silence that usually filled Professor Binns's classes.
"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible, no more."
"Sir -- what exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?" Hermione asked tentatively.
"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control, Miss Galloway."
The class exchanged nervous looks.
"I tell you, the thing does not exist," said Professor Binns. "There is no Chamber and no monster."
"But, sir," Hermione persisted, "If the chamber can only be opened by the Heir of Slytherin, no one else would be able to find it."
"Nonsense, Miss Gardenia," said Binns in an aggravated tone. "If a succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found it -- "
"But you'd probably have to use Dark Magic to open it, Professor --"
"That will do," Binns said sharply. "Now, if we could proceed back to the lesson. "
A moment later he began reading monotonously from his notes again, and the class had sunk into the typical torpor once more.