Chapter 19
"Did you hear?" "Yeah, Madam Pomfrey said tonight." "Tonight!" "Can you believe it?" "It's about time!"
The Great Hall was filled with excited conversations as Ron, accompanied by the rest of the Gryffindors who were below their sixth year and Professor McGonagall, entered for breakfast. It was exactly a week after Seamus had announced that Professor Sprout was nearly ready to brew the Mandrake Draught and revive the victims of the Heir of Slytherin. Everyone was positive that in just a few short hours, all of the long-awaited answers would be revealed.
Ron slid into a seat beside Seaumus Finnigan and George. Around him the Gryffindor's joined in the excited conversations, but Ron remained silent, his own excitement tempered by the fact that Harry was still missing and-as far as he knew-probably dead.
"Hey, Ron," a voice called out to him. He turned to see Parvati Patil hailing him from a little farther down the table. "You know that the Draught's going to be brewed tonight, right? Hermione'll be revived!"
"Yeah, I noticed," said Ron sarcastically, gesturing at the gossiping crowds around him.
Parvati, looking hurt, turned back to Lavender Brown. "Well, it's not like I couldn't tell," muttered Ron to no one in particular.
"Come again?" George asked amiably.
"Nothing," Ron said waspishly.
"What's up with you?" George asked.
"Nothing," Ron said again and turned pointedly back to his milk.
"Whatever," George muttered.
Ron stared into his glass of milk, swirling it gently. Fixed in his mind was the image of Hermione, still as stone, lying on a bed in the hospital wing. A surge of elation rose in him-tonight-tonight Hermione would be back to normal.
* * *
He wasn't sure why he did it, but as they were shepherded to Gryffindor Tower from the last class of the day, Ron slipped unobtrusively from the rest of the group and hid in the restroom just off the corridor. When he was sure the class had passed, he slipped back out, resolve forming in his mind as he did so.
Suddenly he became aware of agitated footsteps, those of what sounded like a small group-no more than four or five, he guessed-of people hurrying up the corridor behind him. In a moment they would turn the corner and he would be found. At the very least he would get hundreds of points from Gryffindor; detention seemed almost inevitable.
He ran into a classroom a little ways up the hall and closed the door as far as he dared, leaving it open about two feet. Then he retreated to the back of the classroom and dropped down behind the teacher's desk.
With the patter of footfalls came the sound of extremely agitated voices. Ron strained to hear what they said as they came into earshot.
"You are quite sure?" this voice Ron recognized as being Professor Snape, although there was something oddly tense about his normally silky-smooth voice.
"Quite sure," another confirmed. It sounded very much like McGonagall; yet in her voice, too, was an underlying urgency.
"How can you be sure?" Snape persisted. His voice sounded pale, if that could be said about someone's voice. Ron realized that Snape was genuinely worried about something-the first time he had ever seemed genuinely worried in the nearly two years Ron had studied under him.
"The Heir of Slytherin," said Professor McGonagall with difficulty, "left another message. Right underneat the first one. 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.' She has undoubtedly been taken by the monster, right into the Chamber itself."
"Who is it?" asked another voice. Ron couldn't tell who this was, but it was familiar-another one of his teachers, surely.
"Ginny Weasley," said McGonagall, sounding as though she had a head cold.
The footsteps stopped suddenly as the party digested this piece of terrible information. Ron sank down to his knees, very white. "Oh, no," he moaned softly. For a moment he was tempted to run out of the classroom-a wild urge to beg McGonagall to elaborate nearly overcame him-but he remained firmly in place, realizing that his startling appearance when he was supposed to be safe in Gryffindor Tower would only put him in great trouble.
A moment later, more footsteps came running up the corridor. "I've just heard," said a suave voice. Ron recognized it as belonging to Professor Aracidia, the eerie Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Ron had always felt a distinct dislike of the black-haired, smooth-as-silk professor, although he couldn't give a reason. It was not that he was mean to his students as Snape was. In fact, he was one of the more lenient teachers and taught some of the most interesting lessons-yet Ron had felt distinctly uneasy around him since his first day.
Now his glib remark sent a chill through Ron.
"Yes," said McGonagall in a strained voice. "I suppose you have. Do you have.any ideas?"
"No," said Aracidia formally. "However, I think that it would be futile to send someone in after the girl. By now, I am sure, she is no longer in need of our service." He paused for a moment and then continued, his silky, persuasive voice a sharp contrast to that of the other teachers. "Truly, I think the best course of action would be to send the students home. It seems that the School is no longer a safe haven."
"I suppose so," said McGonagall in a deflated voice. She sounded as though she were very near tears. "However, I am not sure that Dumbledore would advise it. I feel reluctant to act without his express advice.you do understand, I'm sure."
"Ah, yes, Minerva," Aracidia said consolingly. "I understand the weight of the burden placed on your shoulders. I realize that it must seem overwhelming at times like this. However, I do believe I have the piece of information that could ease that burden considerably."
There was the sound of rustling parchment. Ron edged forward and peered out of the doorway, careful not to let the huddle of teachers see him. Aracidia had indeed drawn a slender scroll from his robe, and was in the process of handing it to McGonagall.
"I think you will find this exactly what you want it to be," said Aracidia.
Professor McGonagall unrolled the parchment and read it. A look of faint surprise appeared on her face as she read, but she did not say anything.
A moment later she handed it back to Aracidia. "This is very interesting," she said. "You are quite sure that this was written by Dumbledore himself?"
"Quite sure," said Aracidia firmly. "It arrived by post owl last night as I was preparing tomorrow's lesson."
Ron saw Professor McGonagall's eyes narrow. "Why did he send it to you, and not to me?" she asked suspiciously.
Aracidia shrugged expressively. "I am not one to question the workings of a great mind," he said with due respect. "I am honored that he would send these instructions to me, but I have no possible reason why he did so."
McGonagall's shoulders slumped slightly. Once more she looked incredibly weary, and her eyes were bright. "I suppose that is what we will do then," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "Severus-if you would be so kind as to announce this.I don't believe I could-," she sniffed loudly and wiped at her eyes with a large purple handkerchief. "I'll be up in my office," she said, and left.
The other teachers, too, walked away. Snape strode determinedly in the direction of Dumbledore's office-Ron supposed that he was carrying out McGonagall's order.
A few moments later, the only person remaining in the hall was Aracidia. He still held the roll of parchment between his slender fingers. He was twirling it abstractedly, a satisfied smile hovering on his lips.
* * *
"All students will return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please."
Snape's oily, magically magnified voice echoed through the school. It still had the strained note in it, Ron noticed-but it seemed as if he had mostly collected his emotions.
Ron was sitting in Gryffindor Common Room now, surrounded by the other Gryffindors but essentially alone. Everyone was glancing nervously at everyone else, wondering how many attacks there had been this time.
Ron stared dully into the fire. George had come up three times to try to talk to him, but each time Ron had brushed off the conversation irritably and demanded to be left alone.
Suddenly he determined to be present in the meeting of the teachers. He didn't know why, but he had to know more about Ginny-and it didn't seem as if anyone was in a hurry to come explain it to the students.
Muttering an excuse about "urgent problem", he slipped out of the Common Room. Everyone else was too occupied in their own animated speculations to pay much attention-the only person who seemed to realize that he was leaving was Neville Longbottom.
Swiftly, Neville stood up from his game of wizard chess with Dean Thomas, but Ron glared at him until he sat back down, sufficiently cowed. Last year, when Neville had tried to interfere with Harry, Ron and Hermione's escapades involving illegal roaming of the school, he had ended up under the full body-bind curse until someone had tripped over him on their way to get a midnight drink.
"Where're you going?" the Fat Lady asked curiously as Ron exited through the portrait hole. "I thought I heard an order restricting students to their Houses."
Ron didn't answer, but took off at a swift-but-wary walk along the corridor towards the staff room. He arrived moments later and-as no one had yet reached the room-slipped inside.
Footsteps approached as he stood in the middle of the room, calculating his next move. Frantically, he glanced around for a hiding place-there.
It was an old wardrobe full of musty robes. Ron climbed silently in and arranged the robes about him till he was quite sure that he was invisible to the occupants of the room, as long as the wardrobe stayed nearly closed, as it was. Then, he peeked around the door, settling down to watch the events that would undoubtedly unfold.
A second after he'd arranged himself into the wardrobe, Professor Flitwick hurried into the staff room, closely followed by Professor McGonagall. Flitwick swished his wand a couple of times and the room lit up with a bright light that didn't seem to come from anywhere in particular. For one brief moment, Ron's heart froze as Flitwick, in the process of performing his charm, happened to glance over at the wardrobe.
He held his breath and Flitwick looked away, uninterested. As he did so, Professors Snape and Aracidia, along with Madam Hooch, Madam Pomfrey, Professor Sprout, and several other teachers Ron did not recognize.
When everyone was seated, Professor McGonagall stood gravely. "I fear I must break disturbing news," she said in a queer voice. "Some of you have already heard this." She paused a moment, and Ron had the distinct impression that she was fighting back tears. "We have full reason to believe that a student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber of Secrets itself."
Proessor Flitwick burst into tears.
"Poppy," said McGonagall, turning to Madam Pomfrey, "If you would be so kind as to administer the Mandrake Draught to the patients in the hospital wing, I'm sure that Severus would be glad to help you. Please, as quickly as possible-we do not know how much time we have to set our affairs in order before the Heir of Slytherin prepares to strike again."
Madam Pomfrey nodded and slipped out, followed by Professor Snape. "I'm afraid this is the end of Hogwarts as we know it," said McGonagall in a deflated voice to her colleagues. "Now, if everyone could please begin to pack. I suppose that that is in order."
The staff room emptied in silence, each teacher extremely solemn-faced.
When they had all left, Ron exited the wardrobe and began to run as quietly as possible to the hospital wing. Surely if Madam Pomfrey saw him, she'd let him stay to see Hermione-surely-
He arrived, panting, at the hopsital wing a moment later. Murmurs came from inside, and he was strangely reluctant to enter.
"Severus, if you please.left cabinet." a few words of the conversation jumped out at him, and he had the sense to move out of sight as Snape opened the door of the hospital wing and entered the supply room across the hall. Seeing what might be his only chance, Ron snuck in through the half- open door and ducked down behind one of the beds farthest from where Madam Pomfrey bustled about busily, preparing equal portions of the Draught.
A moment later, Snape came back, holding something Ron could not see. Carefully he arranged what looked like tiny glasses on the counter and Madam Pomfrey poured steaming potion into each one.
"Proceed, then," Snape said in a tight voice.
Madam Pomfrey rubbed hard at her eyes and then took one of the small glasses, full of thick red liquid, and went to the first bed. The curtain obscured his view, and Ron could not see what happened after that, but a moment later Beatrice Walker appeared, fully revived but looking a little pale.
Not long after, all of the patients had been restored. Madam Pomfrey sent them to their dormitories for questioning at the hands of their Heads of Houses, but she kept Hermione in the hospital wing "till she got back", because she was looking a bit paler than the rest.
There was another patient who stayed, Ron noticed, although the curtain blocked his view and he could not tell who it was. Snape conversed with this patient in a low voice for several minutes, before leaving quickly to get McGonagall. Madam Pomfrey followed, leaving the hospital wing empty except for Ron, Hermione, and the other patient.
After he was sure that no one was coming back, Ron stood up and tiptoed to the edge of the curtain. Luckily, Hermione was on the bed nearest to it and he was able to whisper "Hermione!" quite unobtrusively.
Ron could see Hermione's shadow through the curtain. As she heard her name called, she sat up quickly and looked around.
"Hermione, it's me, c'mere," Ron whispered. Unfortunately, this time his voice had attracted the attention of the other person in the hospital wing.
"Who's there?" said a clear voice, a suspicious edge to the words. "Listen- you-hang on."
"No, wait," Hermione said. "It's-,"
But the other person had already drawn back the curtain, and Ron came face- to-face with the boy who had been attacked at the same time as Nearly Headless Nick.
"Who are you?" the dark-haired boy asked suspiciously.
What's his name, what's his name, what's his name, Ron wondered frantically. What had McGonagall and Dumbledore said his name was? Something Malfoy. Instantly, his lip curled slightly.
"What's it to you?" he asked surlily.
"Ron," said Hermione reprimandingly. Ron ignored her.
What had McGonagall and Dumbledore said about him, anyway? It had something to do with Harry..
"Who are you?" Malfoy said again, suspiciously. He was no taller than Ron, nor was he stockier, but his persistance made Ron falter a bit.
"Uh-listen, just leave me alone," he finally said confusedly. "Hermione, listen, there's something awful I've got to tell you-,"
"I still don't know who you are," Malfoy said. "I'll call for a Professor if you don't get out-I really don't think you're supposed to be in here."
Suddenly Ron remembered-Christof Malfoy was his name. His parents had been Harry's protectors.his attack meant that Harry was no longer safe. Ron's stomach dropped like a stone.
"Just get out of my way, Malfoy," he snarled. It was not until he had pushed the black-haired boy roughly to the side that he remembered that Christof was not a true Slytherin. Oh well. He'd certainly deserved the push.
"Hermione," Ron muttered, trying to block Christof out of the conversation, "Listen. The worst thing possible has happened. Dumbledore's gone-they took him away a week ago-and now my sister Ginny's been snatched by the monster and taken in the the Chamber of Secrets. You've got to help me. The teachers don't know anything-they're going to close the school, Aracidia convinced them it's more danger than it's worth to go after Ginny."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. "You think you're going in there yourself?"
"Yeah," said Ron. "But I don't know how-you've got to help me, Hermione- even if you don't come in-help me find where it is-,"
"You're going to go in there?" said another voice. Ron had completely forgotten the other boy in the hospital wing; now Christof, very white, came to stand in front of Ron. "Listen, you don't know what you're saying. The Chamber of Secrets is horrible-and the monster-I don't know what it is, but my dad does and he said it was terrible-really, you can't possibly think that-,"
"I'm going," said Ron stubbornly. "And if you try to stop me I'll-I'll-," he fingered his wand, groping for a good idea. "Just don't try it," he finally said.
An awkward silence filled the hospital wing. "Fine, then," said Christof after a moment. He sounded determined. "If you're going, I'm going to help you find it and I'm going in with you."
"No way," said Ron immediately, eyeing the green-and-silver pendant the other boy wore. "No way." He almost said "No way am I going in with a Slytherin", but stopped himself in time.
"Yes," Christof persisted. "You'll never find it on your own. I don't know where it is, but at least I know how to find it."
"How?" Hermione asked, interest in her voice.
"Uh-somewhere with access to pipes," Christof said, thinking hard. "I don't know what kind of pipes, just pipes."
"Like what?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows.
"What about a sink-a toilet-a shower-a bathtub-something like that?" Hermione offered.
"Yeah," Ron said, interest betraying him also. "And anyway-why pipes? What do pipes have to do with it all?"
"Uh, listen, we've got to go somewhere else quick," said Christof uneasily. "The teachers'll be coming back soon. And then you're plan won't work. And, er, you still haven't told me your name yet," he said to Ron awkwardly.
"Ron Weasley," Ron offered. "Come on, I have just the place."
"Did you hear?" "Yeah, Madam Pomfrey said tonight." "Tonight!" "Can you believe it?" "It's about time!"
The Great Hall was filled with excited conversations as Ron, accompanied by the rest of the Gryffindors who were below their sixth year and Professor McGonagall, entered for breakfast. It was exactly a week after Seamus had announced that Professor Sprout was nearly ready to brew the Mandrake Draught and revive the victims of the Heir of Slytherin. Everyone was positive that in just a few short hours, all of the long-awaited answers would be revealed.
Ron slid into a seat beside Seaumus Finnigan and George. Around him the Gryffindor's joined in the excited conversations, but Ron remained silent, his own excitement tempered by the fact that Harry was still missing and-as far as he knew-probably dead.
"Hey, Ron," a voice called out to him. He turned to see Parvati Patil hailing him from a little farther down the table. "You know that the Draught's going to be brewed tonight, right? Hermione'll be revived!"
"Yeah, I noticed," said Ron sarcastically, gesturing at the gossiping crowds around him.
Parvati, looking hurt, turned back to Lavender Brown. "Well, it's not like I couldn't tell," muttered Ron to no one in particular.
"Come again?" George asked amiably.
"Nothing," Ron said waspishly.
"What's up with you?" George asked.
"Nothing," Ron said again and turned pointedly back to his milk.
"Whatever," George muttered.
Ron stared into his glass of milk, swirling it gently. Fixed in his mind was the image of Hermione, still as stone, lying on a bed in the hospital wing. A surge of elation rose in him-tonight-tonight Hermione would be back to normal.
* * *
He wasn't sure why he did it, but as they were shepherded to Gryffindor Tower from the last class of the day, Ron slipped unobtrusively from the rest of the group and hid in the restroom just off the corridor. When he was sure the class had passed, he slipped back out, resolve forming in his mind as he did so.
Suddenly he became aware of agitated footsteps, those of what sounded like a small group-no more than four or five, he guessed-of people hurrying up the corridor behind him. In a moment they would turn the corner and he would be found. At the very least he would get hundreds of points from Gryffindor; detention seemed almost inevitable.
He ran into a classroom a little ways up the hall and closed the door as far as he dared, leaving it open about two feet. Then he retreated to the back of the classroom and dropped down behind the teacher's desk.
With the patter of footfalls came the sound of extremely agitated voices. Ron strained to hear what they said as they came into earshot.
"You are quite sure?" this voice Ron recognized as being Professor Snape, although there was something oddly tense about his normally silky-smooth voice.
"Quite sure," another confirmed. It sounded very much like McGonagall; yet in her voice, too, was an underlying urgency.
"How can you be sure?" Snape persisted. His voice sounded pale, if that could be said about someone's voice. Ron realized that Snape was genuinely worried about something-the first time he had ever seemed genuinely worried in the nearly two years Ron had studied under him.
"The Heir of Slytherin," said Professor McGonagall with difficulty, "left another message. Right underneat the first one. 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.' She has undoubtedly been taken by the monster, right into the Chamber itself."
"Who is it?" asked another voice. Ron couldn't tell who this was, but it was familiar-another one of his teachers, surely.
"Ginny Weasley," said McGonagall, sounding as though she had a head cold.
The footsteps stopped suddenly as the party digested this piece of terrible information. Ron sank down to his knees, very white. "Oh, no," he moaned softly. For a moment he was tempted to run out of the classroom-a wild urge to beg McGonagall to elaborate nearly overcame him-but he remained firmly in place, realizing that his startling appearance when he was supposed to be safe in Gryffindor Tower would only put him in great trouble.
A moment later, more footsteps came running up the corridor. "I've just heard," said a suave voice. Ron recognized it as belonging to Professor Aracidia, the eerie Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Ron had always felt a distinct dislike of the black-haired, smooth-as-silk professor, although he couldn't give a reason. It was not that he was mean to his students as Snape was. In fact, he was one of the more lenient teachers and taught some of the most interesting lessons-yet Ron had felt distinctly uneasy around him since his first day.
Now his glib remark sent a chill through Ron.
"Yes," said McGonagall in a strained voice. "I suppose you have. Do you have.any ideas?"
"No," said Aracidia formally. "However, I think that it would be futile to send someone in after the girl. By now, I am sure, she is no longer in need of our service." He paused for a moment and then continued, his silky, persuasive voice a sharp contrast to that of the other teachers. "Truly, I think the best course of action would be to send the students home. It seems that the School is no longer a safe haven."
"I suppose so," said McGonagall in a deflated voice. She sounded as though she were very near tears. "However, I am not sure that Dumbledore would advise it. I feel reluctant to act without his express advice.you do understand, I'm sure."
"Ah, yes, Minerva," Aracidia said consolingly. "I understand the weight of the burden placed on your shoulders. I realize that it must seem overwhelming at times like this. However, I do believe I have the piece of information that could ease that burden considerably."
There was the sound of rustling parchment. Ron edged forward and peered out of the doorway, careful not to let the huddle of teachers see him. Aracidia had indeed drawn a slender scroll from his robe, and was in the process of handing it to McGonagall.
"I think you will find this exactly what you want it to be," said Aracidia.
Professor McGonagall unrolled the parchment and read it. A look of faint surprise appeared on her face as she read, but she did not say anything.
A moment later she handed it back to Aracidia. "This is very interesting," she said. "You are quite sure that this was written by Dumbledore himself?"
"Quite sure," said Aracidia firmly. "It arrived by post owl last night as I was preparing tomorrow's lesson."
Ron saw Professor McGonagall's eyes narrow. "Why did he send it to you, and not to me?" she asked suspiciously.
Aracidia shrugged expressively. "I am not one to question the workings of a great mind," he said with due respect. "I am honored that he would send these instructions to me, but I have no possible reason why he did so."
McGonagall's shoulders slumped slightly. Once more she looked incredibly weary, and her eyes were bright. "I suppose that is what we will do then," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "Severus-if you would be so kind as to announce this.I don't believe I could-," she sniffed loudly and wiped at her eyes with a large purple handkerchief. "I'll be up in my office," she said, and left.
The other teachers, too, walked away. Snape strode determinedly in the direction of Dumbledore's office-Ron supposed that he was carrying out McGonagall's order.
A few moments later, the only person remaining in the hall was Aracidia. He still held the roll of parchment between his slender fingers. He was twirling it abstractedly, a satisfied smile hovering on his lips.
* * *
"All students will return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please."
Snape's oily, magically magnified voice echoed through the school. It still had the strained note in it, Ron noticed-but it seemed as if he had mostly collected his emotions.
Ron was sitting in Gryffindor Common Room now, surrounded by the other Gryffindors but essentially alone. Everyone was glancing nervously at everyone else, wondering how many attacks there had been this time.
Ron stared dully into the fire. George had come up three times to try to talk to him, but each time Ron had brushed off the conversation irritably and demanded to be left alone.
Suddenly he determined to be present in the meeting of the teachers. He didn't know why, but he had to know more about Ginny-and it didn't seem as if anyone was in a hurry to come explain it to the students.
Muttering an excuse about "urgent problem", he slipped out of the Common Room. Everyone else was too occupied in their own animated speculations to pay much attention-the only person who seemed to realize that he was leaving was Neville Longbottom.
Swiftly, Neville stood up from his game of wizard chess with Dean Thomas, but Ron glared at him until he sat back down, sufficiently cowed. Last year, when Neville had tried to interfere with Harry, Ron and Hermione's escapades involving illegal roaming of the school, he had ended up under the full body-bind curse until someone had tripped over him on their way to get a midnight drink.
"Where're you going?" the Fat Lady asked curiously as Ron exited through the portrait hole. "I thought I heard an order restricting students to their Houses."
Ron didn't answer, but took off at a swift-but-wary walk along the corridor towards the staff room. He arrived moments later and-as no one had yet reached the room-slipped inside.
Footsteps approached as he stood in the middle of the room, calculating his next move. Frantically, he glanced around for a hiding place-there.
It was an old wardrobe full of musty robes. Ron climbed silently in and arranged the robes about him till he was quite sure that he was invisible to the occupants of the room, as long as the wardrobe stayed nearly closed, as it was. Then, he peeked around the door, settling down to watch the events that would undoubtedly unfold.
A second after he'd arranged himself into the wardrobe, Professor Flitwick hurried into the staff room, closely followed by Professor McGonagall. Flitwick swished his wand a couple of times and the room lit up with a bright light that didn't seem to come from anywhere in particular. For one brief moment, Ron's heart froze as Flitwick, in the process of performing his charm, happened to glance over at the wardrobe.
He held his breath and Flitwick looked away, uninterested. As he did so, Professors Snape and Aracidia, along with Madam Hooch, Madam Pomfrey, Professor Sprout, and several other teachers Ron did not recognize.
When everyone was seated, Professor McGonagall stood gravely. "I fear I must break disturbing news," she said in a queer voice. "Some of you have already heard this." She paused a moment, and Ron had the distinct impression that she was fighting back tears. "We have full reason to believe that a student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber of Secrets itself."
Proessor Flitwick burst into tears.
"Poppy," said McGonagall, turning to Madam Pomfrey, "If you would be so kind as to administer the Mandrake Draught to the patients in the hospital wing, I'm sure that Severus would be glad to help you. Please, as quickly as possible-we do not know how much time we have to set our affairs in order before the Heir of Slytherin prepares to strike again."
Madam Pomfrey nodded and slipped out, followed by Professor Snape. "I'm afraid this is the end of Hogwarts as we know it," said McGonagall in a deflated voice to her colleagues. "Now, if everyone could please begin to pack. I suppose that that is in order."
The staff room emptied in silence, each teacher extremely solemn-faced.
When they had all left, Ron exited the wardrobe and began to run as quietly as possible to the hospital wing. Surely if Madam Pomfrey saw him, she'd let him stay to see Hermione-surely-
He arrived, panting, at the hopsital wing a moment later. Murmurs came from inside, and he was strangely reluctant to enter.
"Severus, if you please.left cabinet." a few words of the conversation jumped out at him, and he had the sense to move out of sight as Snape opened the door of the hospital wing and entered the supply room across the hall. Seeing what might be his only chance, Ron snuck in through the half- open door and ducked down behind one of the beds farthest from where Madam Pomfrey bustled about busily, preparing equal portions of the Draught.
A moment later, Snape came back, holding something Ron could not see. Carefully he arranged what looked like tiny glasses on the counter and Madam Pomfrey poured steaming potion into each one.
"Proceed, then," Snape said in a tight voice.
Madam Pomfrey rubbed hard at her eyes and then took one of the small glasses, full of thick red liquid, and went to the first bed. The curtain obscured his view, and Ron could not see what happened after that, but a moment later Beatrice Walker appeared, fully revived but looking a little pale.
Not long after, all of the patients had been restored. Madam Pomfrey sent them to their dormitories for questioning at the hands of their Heads of Houses, but she kept Hermione in the hospital wing "till she got back", because she was looking a bit paler than the rest.
There was another patient who stayed, Ron noticed, although the curtain blocked his view and he could not tell who it was. Snape conversed with this patient in a low voice for several minutes, before leaving quickly to get McGonagall. Madam Pomfrey followed, leaving the hospital wing empty except for Ron, Hermione, and the other patient.
After he was sure that no one was coming back, Ron stood up and tiptoed to the edge of the curtain. Luckily, Hermione was on the bed nearest to it and he was able to whisper "Hermione!" quite unobtrusively.
Ron could see Hermione's shadow through the curtain. As she heard her name called, she sat up quickly and looked around.
"Hermione, it's me, c'mere," Ron whispered. Unfortunately, this time his voice had attracted the attention of the other person in the hospital wing.
"Who's there?" said a clear voice, a suspicious edge to the words. "Listen- you-hang on."
"No, wait," Hermione said. "It's-,"
But the other person had already drawn back the curtain, and Ron came face- to-face with the boy who had been attacked at the same time as Nearly Headless Nick.
"Who are you?" the dark-haired boy asked suspiciously.
What's his name, what's his name, what's his name, Ron wondered frantically. What had McGonagall and Dumbledore said his name was? Something Malfoy. Instantly, his lip curled slightly.
"What's it to you?" he asked surlily.
"Ron," said Hermione reprimandingly. Ron ignored her.
What had McGonagall and Dumbledore said about him, anyway? It had something to do with Harry..
"Who are you?" Malfoy said again, suspiciously. He was no taller than Ron, nor was he stockier, but his persistance made Ron falter a bit.
"Uh-listen, just leave me alone," he finally said confusedly. "Hermione, listen, there's something awful I've got to tell you-,"
"I still don't know who you are," Malfoy said. "I'll call for a Professor if you don't get out-I really don't think you're supposed to be in here."
Suddenly Ron remembered-Christof Malfoy was his name. His parents had been Harry's protectors.his attack meant that Harry was no longer safe. Ron's stomach dropped like a stone.
"Just get out of my way, Malfoy," he snarled. It was not until he had pushed the black-haired boy roughly to the side that he remembered that Christof was not a true Slytherin. Oh well. He'd certainly deserved the push.
"Hermione," Ron muttered, trying to block Christof out of the conversation, "Listen. The worst thing possible has happened. Dumbledore's gone-they took him away a week ago-and now my sister Ginny's been snatched by the monster and taken in the the Chamber of Secrets. You've got to help me. The teachers don't know anything-they're going to close the school, Aracidia convinced them it's more danger than it's worth to go after Ginny."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. "You think you're going in there yourself?"
"Yeah," said Ron. "But I don't know how-you've got to help me, Hermione- even if you don't come in-help me find where it is-,"
"You're going to go in there?" said another voice. Ron had completely forgotten the other boy in the hospital wing; now Christof, very white, came to stand in front of Ron. "Listen, you don't know what you're saying. The Chamber of Secrets is horrible-and the monster-I don't know what it is, but my dad does and he said it was terrible-really, you can't possibly think that-,"
"I'm going," said Ron stubbornly. "And if you try to stop me I'll-I'll-," he fingered his wand, groping for a good idea. "Just don't try it," he finally said.
An awkward silence filled the hospital wing. "Fine, then," said Christof after a moment. He sounded determined. "If you're going, I'm going to help you find it and I'm going in with you."
"No way," said Ron immediately, eyeing the green-and-silver pendant the other boy wore. "No way." He almost said "No way am I going in with a Slytherin", but stopped himself in time.
"Yes," Christof persisted. "You'll never find it on your own. I don't know where it is, but at least I know how to find it."
"How?" Hermione asked, interest in her voice.
"Uh-somewhere with access to pipes," Christof said, thinking hard. "I don't know what kind of pipes, just pipes."
"Like what?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows.
"What about a sink-a toilet-a shower-a bathtub-something like that?" Hermione offered.
"Yeah," Ron said, interest betraying him also. "And anyway-why pipes? What do pipes have to do with it all?"
"Uh, listen, we've got to go somewhere else quick," said Christof uneasily. "The teachers'll be coming back soon. And then you're plan won't work. And, er, you still haven't told me your name yet," he said to Ron awkwardly.
"Ron Weasley," Ron offered. "Come on, I have just the place."