Chapter 6
"I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony," Ron told Hermione as they fought their way through the teeming mass of students all wanting to drop their bags off before returning to dinner.
A few moments later they caught sight of Beatrice Walker, a first-year girl who had become friends with Ginny. Hermione and Ron knew her vaguely, but were surprised at Beatrice called out over the noise of the throng to them.
"Hey! Ron Weasley!" she fought against the tide of other students. "I just thought you should know -- a boy in my class is saying -- saying that -- that you're --"
Before she could finish the oncoming masses swept her past.
"What was a boy in her class saying?" Ron muttered, half to himself, half to Hermione.
"That we're the Heirs of Slytherin, I expect," Hermione said gloomily. "C'mon, we'll be late to dinner."
"Do you really think there's a Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked her, knowing the answer.
"Well," she said frowning, "Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs. Norris, which makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be -- well --"
"Human?" Ron supplied. Hermione nodded.
As they spoke, they turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened. They stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message "The Chamber of Secrets has been Opened."
"That's where Filch's been keeping guard," Ron muttered.
"Can't hurt to have a poke around," Hermione said, dropping her bag. "C'mon, Filch isn't here."
"Scorch marks!" Ron cried, throwing himself to his hands and knees. "Here -- and here --"
"Come and look at this," said Hermione. "This is funny.."
Ron got up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing to the highest pane, where at least twenty spiders were fighting each other to squeeze through a tiny crack in the window. A long silver 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?" Hermione asked musingly.
"N-no," said Ron shakily.
Hermione turned to see Ron huddled against the far wall, attempting to keep from running in the other direction.
"I -- don't -- like -- spiders," Ron said tensely. "I don't like the way they move."
Hermione giggled. "I forgot," she apologized.
"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 wriggling 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."
He broke off, shuddering. Hermione was still suppressing the urge to laugh wildly, but figured they'd better get off the subject -- quick.
"That's Moaning Myrtle's place," she reminded him abruptly, pointing at the door to the girls' toilet. "Come on, let's have a look -- see why she was crying that night."
Ron drew away. "It's a girls' toilet," he said gruffly. "Can't go in."
"Sure you can!" Hermione all-but-pulled him through the door, ignoring the Out of Order sign pasted thereon.
Hermione put her finger 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 distrustfully as she eyed Ron. "He's not a girl."
"No -- but I just wanted to show him how, er, nice it is in here."
She waved vaguely at the cracked mirror and dim overhead bulb. "Don't you agree?"
"Ask her if she saw anything," Ron mouthed.
"What are you whispering?" Myrtle said accusingly. "Why do you always whisper behind my back?" she broke into dramatic sobs. "I do have feelings, you know, even if I am dead --"
"No one wants to upset you, Myrtle," Hermione said smoothly. "We were just wondering --"
"No one upset me! That's a good one," Myrtle sobbed harder. "My life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along, ruining my death.."
"We wanted to know if you'd noticed something out of the ordinary, Myrtle," Hermione said quickly. "Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door a few nights ago."
"I didn't pay attention to anything," Myrtle said dramatically. "Peeves upset me so much that I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then I remembered that I'm -- I'm --"
"Already dead?" Ron supplied helpfully.
Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose a few feet in the air, and dove headfirst into the toilet. Ron guessed from the tone of her sobs that she had come to rest somewhere near the U-bend.
"Honestly, that was almost cheerful for Myrtle," Hermione said none-too- brightly. "Come on, let's go."
* * *
The next week passed in a blur for Harry. Malfoy continued to search the manor for the absent Danady, and Harry continued to wonder where the black- haired fugitive had gone. Several times Harry had tentatively crawled under the bed himself and felt into the very corners, expecting any moment to feel a hand, foot, or lock of hair. Each time the space under the bed was completely devoid of life, except for a few ants and (once) a very large spider.
Every day, for no reason other than boredom, Harry attempted to free himself by means of the Alohomora spell, and each day the locks on his window and door remained shut, their protective spells glimmering a bright, soapy yellow.
The Arguing Room, like the space under Harry's bed, had been empty of life and arguments since before Danady's disappearance also. Harry figured that the layout of the house had become apparent to Malfoy also, and he took his arguments elsewhere. Harry was disappointed -- it had been better when there was always a puzzling conversation to figure out, instead of just a hum-drum day with nothing to do. He was sure that, whatever else, Malfoy and Voldemort schemed to kill him not with deadly poisons or sinister curses but by sheer boredom.
Until the week after Danady had come to Harry and then left again.
Today, unlike days before, Narcissa herself brought the breakfast-tray to Harry's room. She seemed to be in a better mood than usual as she set the tray on the windowsill and left wordlessly, locking the door behind her. But she did not leave the door, for a moment later Harry heard her conferring in a low voice with someone whose voice he did not recognize.
Hardly breathing, he crept towards the door until he was in hearing range of their conversation. Narcissa sounded haughtily jubilant -- a bad sign, Harry was sure -- as she talked with the stranger outside of his bedroom.
".He plans to do it soon, Isabel." That was Narcissa, and the woman -- for it was a woman, most certainly -- she was talking to was named Isabel.
"Why, madam, that is splendid." Isabel had a rich, slightly accented voice -- one completely unfamiliar to Harry. "Just a student picked randomly from the crowds?"
"I suppose so," Narcissa said carelessly. "A Muggle-born, to be sure. Lucius believes that it will be a girl -- unfortunately, not that Granger child that Potter is always with. For now, though they'll stick to letting the Monster roam around the halls and terrorize the school." Narcissa gave a derisive laugh. "Luckily he's said that the Master will give explicit orders not to harm a select few of the students-my Draco, among others, and your Christof."
Harry felt a chill of fear as he heard her speak of Hermione. What could they be doing to Muggle-borns?
Suddenly he remembered the first conversation in the Arguing Room -- talk about the School, the Boy, the Monster. And about the Muggle-borns.
He broke into a cold sweat suddenly, standing there halfway between the door and the bed. What were they doing at Hogwarts? What was the monster? And -- most importantly -- how did it rid the school of students with Muggle parentage?
"How long since the Chamber was last opened?" Harry was jerked out of his fearful self-debate as Isabel asked the question.
"Fifty years," Narcissa replied. "It's been that long since the exalted Master could find a suitable candidate. Now he has, luckily."
"Who?" Isabel.
"I think it might be a first-year girl," Narcissa explained carelessly. "In fact, I believe Lucius was gloating over it being one of the children of that Weasley scum, the one working at the Ministry."
Isabel chortled. "What'll he do with her when he's done? The Master, I mean?"
Narcissa sniffed. "Dispose of her, of course," she said haughtily. "What else?"
Isabel was silent for a moment. "A little girl? Is that wise?"
"You question the motives of our exalted Master?" Narcissa asked frostily.
"No!" Isabel said hurriedly. "I just -- yes, it's a very good idea. We couldn't have someone to spread the tale, could we?"
Harry was sure that Narcissa was frowning, still irritated with Isabel for whatever she had said wrong.
"Well." Isabel began. "I'll go now.goodbye."
Narcissa spoke not a word of farewell, but her footsteps receded also as she followed Isabel down the hall.
* * *
Harry paced the length of the room, his forehead creased in a worried frown. He knew that, without a doubt, he couldn't do anything to help Hogwarts or his friends-but it would bother him less if he knew what to make of the strange, cryptic conversations he had heard in captivity.
He knew little more than before, although Narcissa and Isabel's conversation did shed light on a few small facts. First, there was a Monster at Hogwarts-one that was to be freed, to let roam the halls and do something that would terrorize the students and staff alike. What kind of monster could it be, anyway? He had no idea.
Second, at the right time this Monster would do-what? Something to Ginny Weasley, he was afraid. "Lucius was gloating over it being one of that Weasley," Narcissa had said. A first year girl.it had to be Ginny.
Third, Harry was not there to help. Not that he could have much, anyway, he reasoned, but maybe he'd've been able to do something better than pace like a caged animal around this room..
Fourth. Was there a fourth fact he had? Yes, something told him. His mind struggled to remember what it was.
"Really, it's completely impractical to do that. Who would it benefit? The boy's not there, doesn't that erase the point?"
Harry jumped as the words came back to him. Who had spoken them, anyway?
"It certainly does not erase the point, Mister Nott."
Suddenly he remembered. They were the words spoken on September the 4th, when he had first heard discussion from the Arguing Room. He strained to remember more of the words spoken.
"But sir, if the boy's gone, what's the use of the whole plan?"
And then he knew. They were talking about him-but of course, he'd reasoned that already-and they were talking about the same monster that was to wreak havoc on Hogwarts while he was gone. And then he felt a chill of fear, as he realized what the 'point' had been.
They would have sent the monster after him.
"I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony," Ron told Hermione as they fought their way through the teeming mass of students all wanting to drop their bags off before returning to dinner.
A few moments later they caught sight of Beatrice Walker, a first-year girl who had become friends with Ginny. Hermione and Ron knew her vaguely, but were surprised at Beatrice called out over the noise of the throng to them.
"Hey! Ron Weasley!" she fought against the tide of other students. "I just thought you should know -- a boy in my class is saying -- saying that -- that you're --"
Before she could finish the oncoming masses swept her past.
"What was a boy in her class saying?" Ron muttered, half to himself, half to Hermione.
"That we're the Heirs of Slytherin, I expect," Hermione said gloomily. "C'mon, we'll be late to dinner."
"Do you really think there's a Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked her, knowing the answer.
"Well," she said frowning, "Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs. Norris, which makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be -- well --"
"Human?" Ron supplied. Hermione nodded.
As they spoke, they turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened. They stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message "The Chamber of Secrets has been Opened."
"That's where Filch's been keeping guard," Ron muttered.
"Can't hurt to have a poke around," Hermione said, dropping her bag. "C'mon, Filch isn't here."
"Scorch marks!" Ron cried, throwing himself to his hands and knees. "Here -- and here --"
"Come and look at this," said Hermione. "This is funny.."
Ron got up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing to the highest pane, where at least twenty spiders were fighting each other to squeeze through a tiny crack in the window. A long silver 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?" Hermione asked musingly.
"N-no," said Ron shakily.
Hermione turned to see Ron huddled against the far wall, attempting to keep from running in the other direction.
"I -- don't -- like -- spiders," Ron said tensely. "I don't like the way they move."
Hermione giggled. "I forgot," she apologized.
"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 wriggling 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."
He broke off, shuddering. Hermione was still suppressing the urge to laugh wildly, but figured they'd better get off the subject -- quick.
"That's Moaning Myrtle's place," she reminded him abruptly, pointing at the door to the girls' toilet. "Come on, let's have a look -- see why she was crying that night."
Ron drew away. "It's a girls' toilet," he said gruffly. "Can't go in."
"Sure you can!" Hermione all-but-pulled him through the door, ignoring the Out of Order sign pasted thereon.
Hermione put her finger 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 distrustfully as she eyed Ron. "He's not a girl."
"No -- but I just wanted to show him how, er, nice it is in here."
She waved vaguely at the cracked mirror and dim overhead bulb. "Don't you agree?"
"Ask her if she saw anything," Ron mouthed.
"What are you whispering?" Myrtle said accusingly. "Why do you always whisper behind my back?" she broke into dramatic sobs. "I do have feelings, you know, even if I am dead --"
"No one wants to upset you, Myrtle," Hermione said smoothly. "We were just wondering --"
"No one upset me! That's a good one," Myrtle sobbed harder. "My life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along, ruining my death.."
"We wanted to know if you'd noticed something out of the ordinary, Myrtle," Hermione said quickly. "Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door a few nights ago."
"I didn't pay attention to anything," Myrtle said dramatically. "Peeves upset me so much that I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then I remembered that I'm -- I'm --"
"Already dead?" Ron supplied helpfully.
Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose a few feet in the air, and dove headfirst into the toilet. Ron guessed from the tone of her sobs that she had come to rest somewhere near the U-bend.
"Honestly, that was almost cheerful for Myrtle," Hermione said none-too- brightly. "Come on, let's go."
* * *
The next week passed in a blur for Harry. Malfoy continued to search the manor for the absent Danady, and Harry continued to wonder where the black- haired fugitive had gone. Several times Harry had tentatively crawled under the bed himself and felt into the very corners, expecting any moment to feel a hand, foot, or lock of hair. Each time the space under the bed was completely devoid of life, except for a few ants and (once) a very large spider.
Every day, for no reason other than boredom, Harry attempted to free himself by means of the Alohomora spell, and each day the locks on his window and door remained shut, their protective spells glimmering a bright, soapy yellow.
The Arguing Room, like the space under Harry's bed, had been empty of life and arguments since before Danady's disappearance also. Harry figured that the layout of the house had become apparent to Malfoy also, and he took his arguments elsewhere. Harry was disappointed -- it had been better when there was always a puzzling conversation to figure out, instead of just a hum-drum day with nothing to do. He was sure that, whatever else, Malfoy and Voldemort schemed to kill him not with deadly poisons or sinister curses but by sheer boredom.
Until the week after Danady had come to Harry and then left again.
Today, unlike days before, Narcissa herself brought the breakfast-tray to Harry's room. She seemed to be in a better mood than usual as she set the tray on the windowsill and left wordlessly, locking the door behind her. But she did not leave the door, for a moment later Harry heard her conferring in a low voice with someone whose voice he did not recognize.
Hardly breathing, he crept towards the door until he was in hearing range of their conversation. Narcissa sounded haughtily jubilant -- a bad sign, Harry was sure -- as she talked with the stranger outside of his bedroom.
".He plans to do it soon, Isabel." That was Narcissa, and the woman -- for it was a woman, most certainly -- she was talking to was named Isabel.
"Why, madam, that is splendid." Isabel had a rich, slightly accented voice -- one completely unfamiliar to Harry. "Just a student picked randomly from the crowds?"
"I suppose so," Narcissa said carelessly. "A Muggle-born, to be sure. Lucius believes that it will be a girl -- unfortunately, not that Granger child that Potter is always with. For now, though they'll stick to letting the Monster roam around the halls and terrorize the school." Narcissa gave a derisive laugh. "Luckily he's said that the Master will give explicit orders not to harm a select few of the students-my Draco, among others, and your Christof."
Harry felt a chill of fear as he heard her speak of Hermione. What could they be doing to Muggle-borns?
Suddenly he remembered the first conversation in the Arguing Room -- talk about the School, the Boy, the Monster. And about the Muggle-borns.
He broke into a cold sweat suddenly, standing there halfway between the door and the bed. What were they doing at Hogwarts? What was the monster? And -- most importantly -- how did it rid the school of students with Muggle parentage?
"How long since the Chamber was last opened?" Harry was jerked out of his fearful self-debate as Isabel asked the question.
"Fifty years," Narcissa replied. "It's been that long since the exalted Master could find a suitable candidate. Now he has, luckily."
"Who?" Isabel.
"I think it might be a first-year girl," Narcissa explained carelessly. "In fact, I believe Lucius was gloating over it being one of the children of that Weasley scum, the one working at the Ministry."
Isabel chortled. "What'll he do with her when he's done? The Master, I mean?"
Narcissa sniffed. "Dispose of her, of course," she said haughtily. "What else?"
Isabel was silent for a moment. "A little girl? Is that wise?"
"You question the motives of our exalted Master?" Narcissa asked frostily.
"No!" Isabel said hurriedly. "I just -- yes, it's a very good idea. We couldn't have someone to spread the tale, could we?"
Harry was sure that Narcissa was frowning, still irritated with Isabel for whatever she had said wrong.
"Well." Isabel began. "I'll go now.goodbye."
Narcissa spoke not a word of farewell, but her footsteps receded also as she followed Isabel down the hall.
* * *
Harry paced the length of the room, his forehead creased in a worried frown. He knew that, without a doubt, he couldn't do anything to help Hogwarts or his friends-but it would bother him less if he knew what to make of the strange, cryptic conversations he had heard in captivity.
He knew little more than before, although Narcissa and Isabel's conversation did shed light on a few small facts. First, there was a Monster at Hogwarts-one that was to be freed, to let roam the halls and do something that would terrorize the students and staff alike. What kind of monster could it be, anyway? He had no idea.
Second, at the right time this Monster would do-what? Something to Ginny Weasley, he was afraid. "Lucius was gloating over it being one of that Weasley," Narcissa had said. A first year girl.it had to be Ginny.
Third, Harry was not there to help. Not that he could have much, anyway, he reasoned, but maybe he'd've been able to do something better than pace like a caged animal around this room..
Fourth. Was there a fourth fact he had? Yes, something told him. His mind struggled to remember what it was.
"Really, it's completely impractical to do that. Who would it benefit? The boy's not there, doesn't that erase the point?"
Harry jumped as the words came back to him. Who had spoken them, anyway?
"It certainly does not erase the point, Mister Nott."
Suddenly he remembered. They were the words spoken on September the 4th, when he had first heard discussion from the Arguing Room. He strained to remember more of the words spoken.
"But sir, if the boy's gone, what's the use of the whole plan?"
And then he knew. They were talking about him-but of course, he'd reasoned that already-and they were talking about the same monster that was to wreak havoc on Hogwarts while he was gone. And then he felt a chill of fear, as he realized what the 'point' had been.
They would have sent the monster after him.