Even though Harry, Hermione, and Neville had all felt some reservations about Dumbledore's request that they keep what they knew about the Chamber of Secrets to themselves – a request Harry even wanted to disobey on several occasions – eventually, they came to terms with the understanding that it was, indeed, the right thing to do. Ironically, the cause of the understanding that people could become wholly unreasonable and unthinking when driven by emotion, and that non-action was sometimes the best course of action, came from a decidedly unphilosophical source – Ron Weasley.

With the Winter Holidays on the horizon, discussion was beginning to pick up around the castle about students' plans for the few weeks away from school. Harry, for the first time in his life, knew that he had a place to go over the holidays – Tracey, and April, in a letter, had invited him to once again to spend the time with them. Meanwhile, Hermione was holidaymaking for most of the break with her parents in France and Spain, and Neville was to continue his 'wizarding education' with his grandmother at various institutions in which she held posts. Neville did not seem too happy about his holiday plans – something Harry thought he could readily understand – but like the last winter and summer holidays, Hermione also seemed rather unenthusiastic, or even resistively reluctant, to return home. Harry wondered, as he had several times in the past, whether there was something she was not telling them about her life at home. He did not try to pry, though, for he thought that he ought to show reciprocal respect for them not pressuring him to speak of his own life more than he wanted to.

If there was one person who was truly unhappy about the holidays, however, it was Ron. Unexpectedly, it was not his own holiday plans which caused him upset, but rather, those of Ginny. As it so often seemed to be with Ron, his dissatisfaction manifested itself in a blunt, rash, and quite spiteful emotional outburst, one which Harry, Hermione, Neville, and a few other second-year Gryffindors had the misfortune of running into just as they returned from dinner in the Great Hall.

'Fred and George are staying a few nights at Lee's!' Ginny was shouting. 'Why am I not allowed to stay where I want for a week?'

'First, Fred and George are older than you!' Ron screeched back. 'They're more…responsible! Plus, Lee Jordan's not a – '

'A what?' Ginny challenged. 'Are you going to say that Lee's not a Slytherin?'

'Exactly! Unlike your "friends", – '

'Well, then maybe I shouldn't go home, then!' Ginny yelled. 'After all, you obviously don't want to live together with a Slytherin!'

Ron suddenly was stupefied, and he looked like he had choked on something as he struggled to find a response. It seemed momentarily to Harry that Ron would have nothing to say, and that the argument was as good as over, but as one always did, Ron managed to scrape together a response – though in his anger, did not choose the most logical one.

'I don't want you interacting with Slytherins more than you need to!' Ron cried back. 'Fine, you're in Slytherin and nobody can do anything to change that. Fine. All right, you can't spend all your time in the Slytherin Common Room alone, I get it. But you are not going to befriend a Slytherin! I won't allow it!'

'You can't disallow me from – '

Ron laughed derisively. 'Oh yes, I can! I'll send a letter to mum. You'll see. She won't let you, either!'

'What makes you think that?'

Ron sighed, though in his fury, it seemed more like a rattle. 'Have you forgotten all about the story of Herbert?' he asked. 'Do I need to remind you how his Slytherin "friends" bamboozled him into "investing" nearly the entire family fortune into their "business", then ran off with the money? He thought those Slytherins were his friends, too, didn't he? Just like you do! And then they cheated him! Cheated us! We're all still rotting in poverty because of them! Do you want to do that to us, again? What do you want us to lose this time? Our house? Our land? Dad's job?'

'What makes you think I'll end up like Herbert?' Ginny snapped. 'Herbert was an idiot! Everyone knew that! I'm not that stupid! If anyone could become the next Herbert, it's you, not me!'

'Are you – '

'What the hell is going on here?' a voice – Fred's or George's, Harry could not tell – demanded from behind Harry. 'Ginny, Ron. Are you really going at this again?'

'Ginny just told me she wants to stay over at Kyra Flint's over the holidays!' Ron told him. 'Stay over! It's like she forgot – '

'It's not for the entire holiday!' Ginny protested. 'It's only for a week after the New Year! Ron thinks I'm going to…I'm going to, I don't know, ruin our entire family by staying at someone's house!'

'Don't you see?' Ron shouted. 'They're going to trick her! Maybe not now, but eventually, they definitely will! She's going on the same path as Herbert was! She's going to…'

At that point, Ron finally seemed to get a grip on his senses and looked around the room. The moment he saw Harry and the others, his face went bright red. He had obviously not noticed that he had shouted his family's misfortune in front of half of his Housemates in his year.

'She's going to make a fool of us!' Ron said, possibly trying to rescue a bit of his pride and break up the awkwardness.

'Ron, be quiet,' Fred said firmly. He and George walked over to the sofa closest to their arguing siblings and sat down. 'Ginny, is what Ron's saying true? About you wanting to stay with Flint over the holidays.'

Ginny nodded timidly. 'Y-Yes. She invited me. It's just for a week! I'll still…still be home…'

'Kyra Flint, you said?' George asked. 'That's Marcus Flint's little sister, isn't it?'

Ginny nodded again. 'Yes, but she's nice to me! She's n-not like what Ron says she is! She isn't trying to trick me into doing…anything!'

'I believe you,' Fred said. 'But…'

George sighed. 'Ginny, listen to me,' he began. 'Ron's being as big a git as ever, but that doesn't mean he's wrong about this whole thing.'

Ginny's scared expression suddenly melted, and she glared daggers at her brother. 'What do you mean, "he's not wrong about this whole thing"?' she demanded. 'Are you taking his side, too?'

'Well…'

'You want me to be honest? Yes. This time, Ron's got the right idea, but for all the wrong reasons,' Fred answered patiently. 'I – we: that is, everyone here, Bill, Charlie, mum, dad, and, oh, Percy – wouldn't want you to stay at Kyra Flint's over the holidays, but not because she's a Slytherin.'

'See, Ginny? I told – '

'Shut your mouth, Ron, and let us talk,' Fred snapped. 'Ginny, look. We've never told you that you can't spend time with other people in your House – as long as you're careful. Spending a full week with their families, families that you know have certain…unsavoury…pasts, that's a different story.'

'Is this what it is?' Ginny cried. 'Do you think I'm stupid? That I don't – '

'Fred didn't say anything of the sort,' George interjected. 'The thing is, kids your age don't really know what they're doing, but their parents definitely do.'

'Meaning?'

'Meaning that you have to take them seriously,' Fred said. 'Kyra might not want to – and might not know how to – play you, Ginny, but you can bet that her parents do and want to. Not because they're Slytherins, Ginny, but because…you know what. Dad's explained it many times.'

'You don't trust that I – '

'No, I don't,' George replied, and Harry saw Ginny quickly begin to seethe. 'Mum and dad won't, either. You can write them if you want, but don't expect them to take your side on this.'

'You can't be telling me I can't go like Ron…' Ginny whimpered.

'We are saying exactly that,' Fred said, standing up.

Ginny looked at Fred, then George with what may have been an attempt at puppy eyes. Neither of them budged from their positions, however. After a few seconds, Harry saw her lips tremble, and she shrieked a cry, before turning and running from the Gryffindor Common Room, nearly barrelling into Dean in the process.

George sighed. 'Maybe she'll get it after mum tells her "no". Come on, Fred, we've been keeping Lee waiting too long with the goods. And you, Ron, you're still red, calm yourself. Go up to the dormitory and try not to make a scene.'

Ron stomped up the stairs, while George shouldered a rucksack he had previously dropped and led Fred out of the Common Room. The Gryffindors gathered near the entry hole, who had been watching the whole spectacle, exchanged some looks and shrugs with one another, then quickly dissolved, each person or small group going to their own place around the room.

Harry, Hermione, and Neville proceeded to the sofas near the fireplace – incidentally, the same ones where Fred and George had sat and near which Ron and Ginny had screamed at each other. They sat down, dropped their bags to the floor, and Harry pulled out his Potions book, intending to quickly do the assigned reading so that he could get an early start on Snape's homework.

'What's this?' Neville asked, pointing at the table.

Harry looked up from his still-closed Potions book to spot a small, antique-looking leather-bound book lying on the table. 'That…isn't that Ginny's?' he noted. 'The little book she always carries around?'

He reached over to the table and picked it up. The texture of the cover of the book felt unexpectedly quite cheap, like that of some of the faux-leather-covered pads he had seen Uncle Vernon use for work, and certainly not like the quality of some of his textbooks, which were wrapped quite elegantly in what Harry guessed to be real leather of some sort. It also looked a little worn, rather unlike what he would have expected from a brand-new book. Turning the book around, Harry saw that the covering was worn down in some spots.

Curious, he flipped the book open, and to his surprise, he found all the pages inside completely blank, devoid of any writing. The only hand-written markings he could find were those on the inner cover. At the bottom page, written in slightly faded blue ink, were the letters 'TMR'. Curiously, the pages felt like standard paper, not of a high quality and not anything like the parchment which constituted the pages of his textbooks and notebooks.

'What's inside?' Neville asked.

'Nothing,' Harry answered. 'It's all blank.'

'It might be a diary of some sort,' Hermione said. 'It's probably one of those that's been enchanted so that only the owner can see the contents. I've seen them on sale at Flourish and Blotts…they're pretty expensive, something like two or three Galleons each.'

Harry did a quick estimation based on the exchange rate of forty to one that Dumbledore had told him a year ago, which came out to be at least a hundred pounds – quite expensive indeed. 'I wonder how Ginny got one,' he mused. 'If the Weasleys are really poor like Ron says they are…'

'They are really poor,' Neville said. 'I doubt they have that much money to throw around on stuff like this. Maybe Ginny got it as a gift…'

'In any case, we should probably give it back to her,' Hermione suggested. 'It's definitely important to her, if her always clutching it is anything to go by. Maybe give it to…no, better not give it to Ron.'

Neville stood up. 'I can go. I've already finished Herbology. I'll head down to the Slytherin Common Room and give it to her. Curfew's not for another hour.'

About fifteen minutes later, Neville returned, a little out of breath. 'Well, did you give it to her?' Harry asked.

Neville nodded. 'Caught her just outside the Slytherin Common Room. Good thing, too. I don't know the password to their common room, and I'd rather not have dealt with one of their prefects trying to get it.'

'Did you ask Ginny about the book?' Hermione pressed.

'I did.'

'And what did she say?'

'She told me that it was her diary,' Neville replied, 'and then proceeded to tell me off for asking after her private things.'

'Well, I suppose it was a bit of a…uh…forward question,' Hermione said. 'Did she say anything else?'

Neville nodded. 'One more thing. She said that she'd gotten it at the end of the Davis family's ball, the one over the summer. You were there, Harry, weren't you?'

Harry blinked. 'At the Davis' ball?' he asked, digging through his memory. 'Oh, that'd make sense, then.'

'What do you mean?'

'They gave all the kids a journal at the end of it as a party favour,' Harry explained. 'Orville – Tracey's dad – said something about it being important to make a habit of journaling… Seems like Ginny really took that advice to heart.'

'Something that costs three Galleons? As a party favour?' Hermione asked, sounding a little disbelieving.

Harry shrugged. 'I mean…they were not exactly stingy with spending money at the ball,' he recalled. 'We showed up in a…I think Orville called it a "horseless carriage". It's basically a magical car, Hermione, which costs a few thousand Galleons just to buy and then a few hundred more a month just to drive around. So…three Galleons per kid doesn't seem too crazy.'

Neville's jaw was on the floor. 'You're saying…you've ridden in a horseless carriage?'

Harry nodded. 'Only for a short trip, though.'

'Still!' Neville gasped. 'That's…oh my… I've only seen those in person a few times…and I've never even gotten close enough to touch one. You're telling me that Tracey's parents…have one?'

'I don't think they do personally,' Harry answered. 'Their company has one to parade around and show off a bit.'

'Their business must be swimming in cash…' Neville said, beginning to pick his jaw up off the floor a little.

'Probably,' Harry affirmed – his conversations with Orville and April, as well as the state of their home, certainly all but confirmed that fact. 'So, yeah, a handful of journals that cost two or three Galleons each doesn't seem too out of place, especially since the entire point of the ball was to impress the people they work with.'

'Did you get a diary, too, Harry?' Neville asked, having recovered his countenance and laughing a little. 'Do you write to "Dear Diary" before going to bed each night?'

'Stop laughing, Neville,' Harry snapped without seriousness. 'They didn't give me a diary, nor Tracey, for that matter. I mean, I was technically with the hosts, so I don't see why I would get a party favour from "my own" party, anyway.'

Neville looked a little disappointed that his jibe had fallen flat, though he quickly made up for that by turning his focus to Hermione. 'What about you, Hermione? Do you write soppy things in your diary?'

Hermione blushed. 'Nothing soppy!' she insisted.

The atmosphere on the Hogwarts Express could be described as being one of relief.

As much as Dumbledore assured everyone that thanks to the measures taken, Hogwarts was still safe in every meaningful way despite the petrifications, and as much as everyone convinced themselves – both futilely and successfully – that this was the case, it was still evident that the great majority of those returning home for the Holidays let out a nervously held breath as the train carried them away from the castle, if only for a few weeks.

At Kings Cross, Harry parted with Hermione and Neville, and found Tracey, who was already standing with her parents. When Harry joined them, April gave him a quick hug, and Orville shook his hand in greeting.

'It's great to have you back with us.'

Harry smiled. 'Thanks for letting me stay.'

'The pleasure is all ours.'

There was a long queue before the fireplaces, as a train-load of students, laden with their belongings, along with their parents, waited to exit one-by-one through the Floo system. Thankfully, they were not too far to the back of the still-lengthening queue, and after a few minutes of waiting, arrived in the living room of the family's familiar Diagon Alley flat.

It was already quite late, so immediately after Harry and Tracey had put down their things and washed their hands, they joined April and Orville in the dining room for dinner. As they began to eat the quite simple fare – a great change from Hogwarts, though not necessarily a bad one – the topic of discussion quickly centred itself on the Chamber of Secrets and the petrifications.

'Are you scared?' April asked. 'Albus sent out a letter a few weeks ago. It seems like he's doing a lot to make the castle safe, but…do you feel safe? Comfortable, going back to Hogwarts?'

Tracey shrugged. 'I don't think Dumbledore would keep us in the castle if it weren't, right?'

Harry nearly told her that Dumbledore had already tried to order an evacuation of the castle, but was unable to thanks to Cornelius Fudge's meddling. He did not, however, choosing to honour Dumbledore's request to be discreet about the contents of their last conversation. In any case, he did not want to unnecessarily frighten Tracey, who seemed right now quite confident in Hogwarts's safety.

'And anyway, there're hundreds of people in the castle, but only three people have gotten petrified so far,' Tracey continued. 'The odds of anyone getting petrified themselves are pretty low.'

Orville nodded slowly. The conversation took a long pause. 'Who so far has been petrified?' Orville asked. 'The caretaker Filch, Trivedi's youngest son, and…there was one more, right?'

'Leanne, I think her name was,' Harry answered. 'I don't remember her surname.'

'Hmm…'

April raised an eyebrow. 'What're you thinking?'

'A connection,' Orville pondered. 'Some link between Filch, Trivedi, and this Leanne…'

'And?'

Silence. The grandfather clock in the living room ticked.

'I can't see any,' Orville finally replied. 'We know the Trivedi clan…at least the part working here in Britain. Very wealthy and successful, but very unpleasant and cutthroat businesspeople… The fact that someone petrified their youngest son…well, if it were an isolated incident, I'd say that whoever's behind the Chamber of Secrets opening wants to get disproportionate revenge for some grudge, but that doesn't make sense in context of the other two…'

'Hmm…Filch…you know about his…disability,' April suggested. 'Leanne…name and surname must not have rung a bell, or I'd have remembered it well. Muggle-born, maybe?'

'You think whoever opened the Chamber of Secrets acted out of blood bigotry? Well, it's certainly possible – especially considering the Chamber's…legend…and Salazar Slytherin's reputation. But that wouldn't explain Trivedi's case. Their entire clan up to Amit have been pure-bloods who'd rival Parkinson in how proud they are of that fact, and Amit…I believe his wife is a half-blood, so them trying to get at him for being a "blood traitor" wouldn't make that much sense. I doubt that Amit's son would be anywhere near the top of a "hit list" of a violent blood bigot.'

'It doesn't all have to be one reason alone,' April said. 'It definitely could have to do with bigotry…how else would you explain Filch? He had no feuds or even any practical uses to anyone. If Leanne is actually muggle-born as we assume, then her case wouldn't need any additional explanation. Trivedi…well, maybe the perpetrator sought to send a warning or get revenge for a slight on the side. The Creators only know how many rivals' lives Amit has destroyed… He could've also just been at the wrong place at the wrong time, considering how he was petrified alongside Leanne.'

'Sorry, what's with Filch?' Harry asked, curious and confused. 'You said he had some kind of disability?'

'Filch is – rather, everyone's sure that he is – a Squib,' April explained. 'A Squib is basically the opposite of a muggle-born: someone who has magical parents but is born unable to interact with magic in any way. Squibs are…not looked upon favourably by some segments of society. I'm sure you know the types.'

'Understatement, "not looked upon favourably",' Orville corrected. 'To the Malfoys and Parkinsons of the world, Squibs occupy a lower rung of the ladder than muggle-borns or muggles themselves. Many wizards treat magic as a near-deity, a sacred power. To the fanatics, then, Squibs, who they perceive as having "thrown away" and thereby desecrated that power, are far worse than muggle-borns, who they would say are unworthy beings unjustly given that power, or even muggles, who are simply unworthy beings which don't deserve care one way or another. Some families see Squibs as such stains on their clan that if a child is found to be a Squib, they're thrown out onto the street to fend for themselves – if they're not outright…cleansed.'

'During You-Know-Who's reign of terror, his followers were going after Squibs, too,' April supplied. 'They were trying to drive Squibs out of the magical world and force them into the muggle one. Obviously, that would've been disastrous for them, considering most Squibs who were abandoned by their families are in positions such as Filch – with no education, no marketable skills, and no work experience beyond the most basic menial labour. They would've had no chance of competing in an advanced economy like the UK, so most refused to leave. Of course, You-Know-Who did not suffer defiance lightly, and had he not been driven out when he had been…'

April did not finish her recount, but having learned everything they had learned in History of Magic about what people like Adolf Hitler and the various goblin and human leaders of the Third Great Tremor had committed out of hatred for the 'others', there was little need to doubt what Voldemort must have had planned for the Squibs.

'Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?' Tracey suddenly asked. 'Dumbledore's told us nearly nothing about it, beyond the fact that it's been opened and that they're all trying to look for it. What is it, even? Do you know?'

Harry opened his mouth. He debated for several seconds whether to break his promise to Dumbledore and tell Tracey what he knew. He understood Dumbledore's concerns, but he figured that Tracey and her family deserved to know the facts he knew about the Chamber of Secrets at the very least. Before he could say anything, however, Orville spoke up.

'I don't know anything,' he said. 'I have heard things, but as for whether those things are true or not…I don't think anyone here can know for certain.'

'What have you heard, then?'

Orville sighed. 'Keep in mind, all I know is speculation…lore passed from one to another among the Slytherins over the years. Precise events would've been twisted countless times before they reached my ears.'

Orville nodded. 'The very. Apparently, he had wished to be buried at Hogwarts, and despite him having parted ways with the other founders years ago, they did not refuse him the honour – he was still one of the founders, no matter what, and just like Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw, he had a right to make Hogwarts his final resting place. And so he was, constructing the crypt that would later become known as the Chamber of Secrets.'

'And this Chamber of Secrets…did it contain anything that could be…responsible for the petrifications?' Harry asked, hoping for some kind of confirmation of his and Dumbledore's conclusion. 'A…beast, maybe?'

Orville thought for a while. 'I don't know,' he answered. 'What I just told you…that was actually all I know – or rather, all that I have some faith in. There are a lot of tall tales surrounding the Chamber, of course, but I'm afraid that they're just tall tales, mostly invented by drunk Slytherin boys in an attempt to woo girls with some kind of dark mystique. The least ridiculous of them is that Salazar Slytherin is still alive and well in the Chamber, kept that way thanks to powerful magic of his own creation. But…hmm…a beast…there may be some shred of truth to that…'

'Doesn't seem too far-fetched? Why?' Harry asked, wanting Orville to probe his theory.

'Well, it's possible that Slytherin might've placed some kind of beast to serve as a…let's call it a protector…for his tomb,' Orville posited. 'Aside from being controversial, even in his age, Slytherin was also an exceptionally intelligent man. He could've perhaps foreseen that future generations might want to open his tomb…for whatever reason. Nobody, I'm sure, likes having their tomb desecrated. Whether it's a beast or something else, though…who knows?'

'The beast…or whatever… Do you think Slytherin could have placed a serpent of some kind?' Harry pressed.

'My, my, Harry, did Albus put you up to something?' April asked jovially. 'Nonetheless…well, Slytherin was quite fond of serpents. If everything else you've come up with is true…then perhaps you might be right – but that's an enormous "if".'

'Incidentally, you are quite adept at interacting with serpents, too, Harry, or so I've heard,' Orville noted.

Harry chuckled darkly. 'I…uh…yeah, I guess you can say that.'

'Well, to get back to topic, to say that Slytherin was just "fond" of serpents might be a bit of an understatement,' Orville said. 'Apparently, he was able to understand their magic in a way that no other wizard in recorded history could. I don't think there's much sense in pursuing this train of thought further, though. We're relying on a lot of conjecture, none of which we can prove.'

'Even if our conclusions seem plausible, we still know too little to put too much faith in them,' April added. 'If something we took to be true turns out to not be, then every single conclusion we've made may turn out to be completely wrong.'

'I do think there's an obvious conclusion we can make, though,' Orville asserted. 'Someone's using the myth of the Chamber of Secrets and…whatever magic it contains…to achieve some end. Someone powerful. Not only that, I'd also wager anything that that person had some connection to Slytherin by blood, for the fact that he or she had somehow managed to do what scholars had been unable to do for centuries – locate and exploit Slytherin's tomb – can't be out of dumb luck or coincidence. Some connection must have led them there.'

Harry suddenly remembered the inscription on the wall behind Filch's petrified form that Halloween night. Fear the Greatest's Heir, it had said in Eltrys, according to Dumbledore.

'So who could be…who could be Slytherin's Heir?' Harry asked.

'Slytherin lived a millennium ago. It could really be anyone in the world.'

Harry spent much of the first week of the holidays relaxing, though the myriad of broad questions surrounding the Chamber of Secrets still prickled at him. Someone powerful was responsible for the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, Orville had asserted. Someone related to Salazar Slytherin. While the latter seemed useless when it came to ascertaining possible suspects, the former conclusion seemed to rule out nearly all of the students – except perhaps some of the oldest and most experienced, or the handful of Magister students. The staff might be capable of the powerful magic Orville had hypothesised would be needed, but who among the staff would commit such an act, petrifying their own students? Even Snape, who Harry had suspected of wrongdoing all of last year, turned out to be not just innocent, but even protecting Hogwarts at the end. Unpleasant and mean did not equal evil, after all, and Harry had doubts about the probability of 'another' Quirrell arising among the staff for the second year in a row.

Despite it all, now that he was far from the confines of Hogwarts's walls, Harry found it surprisingly easy to brush the wonderings aside whenever they arose. It was easy to distract himself between wandering about Diagon Alley and talking and doing things with Tracey and her parents. Neville managed to invite them over one day, though unfortunately not for long, thanks to his grandmother once again meeting important guests in their home. With the temporary reprieve from the thought that he or his friends might be imminently attacked and petrified, Harry was glad to allow his mind to focus on other, more pleasant things.

One of these more pleasant things was a company function they were to attend on the solstice with Orville and April. Harry was not a huge enthusiast when it came to balls, but good food and a bit of activity never hurt – even if he had to dress up in somewhat uncomfortable clothing and meet and greet people he did not exactly take to.

For the most part, the ball was simply a repeat of the function he had attended over the summer, save for the fact that they did not arrive in a 'horseless carriage' and the theme of the décor being winter aesthetics. Once more, Orville and April brought him and Tracey around to greet some of their friends and associates, before letting them go off on their own. Tracey left shortly afterwards to meet Pansy and Daphne, and Harry was, as before, left to wander on his own. As he walked around the venue, perusing the small plates of food and glasses of drinks, and occasionally taking one that struck his fancy, he ran into some acquaintances he knew from school – though unfortunately, none with whom he was particularly close with.

Eventually, he encountered someone who he was not at all thrilled to meet. Lucius Malfoy was standing by a table, conversing quietly with a large man with short, dark hair. Draco was nowhere to be seen. Harry hoped that Lucius would not notice his presence, and tried to slip away, out of his line of sight. Unfortunately, before he was able to do so, the other man walked away, looking somehow dissatisfied, and Lucius's gaze shifted to Harry.

'Mister Potter,' Lucius said slickly, a feigned surprise in his voice. 'What a pleasure to see you here.'

'Mister Malfoy, a pleasure,' Harry lied. He knew he had to be polite in reply, but that did not make it easy to keep the displeasure from his tone.

Lucius extended his hand, and Harry, having no choice, shook it. Thankfully, it was a short handshake, for Lucius withdrew nearly immediately. Harry looked up at the man's face, and there was something in it that gave him a deep unease. Lucius was concealing a smile, but it was not the pleasant type of smile. It was a smile Harry might associate with Snape, but the emotions behind it did not seem to be mocking or belittling, but something completely different and more disturbing.

'I hope you have had a good year so far,' Lucius said. 'Has it been more exciting than the last?'

'One might say that,' Harry answered offhandedly.

'As I hoped it would be,' Lucius replied, this time allowing a slight smile to play on his lips. 'I am happy to hear this, Harry.'

I'm not, Harry thought, but did not think it wise to utter the thought in front of Lucius Malfoy.

'Tell me, Mister Potter,' Lucius continued without prompting. 'How do you feel about the incidents happening around Hogwarts? Are you, perhaps, scared? Concerned about your…company? Confused?'

Harry thought for a few seconds about how to respond. He could tell Lucius was trying to goad him into agreeing – it was a tactic which Dudley and Uncle Vernon had loved to use, after all – and did not want to give him the pleasure. 'I try not to think about it, Mister Malfoy,' he answered calmly.

'Wise, isn't it?'

They exchanged a few more rounds of conversation, mostly small-talk about the weather, before Lucius finally left. The unease that the interaction with him had given Harry, however, did not leave along with him. Lucius, he recalled, had said something about hoping Harry would have a more exciting year than the last – and it was quite evident that he was not concerned about Quidditch or the Games Club.

Could Lucius…

But the Chamber of Secrets was at Hogwarts. Was Lucius able to open the Chamber and control the beast inside – or whatever it is – from such a long distance away? Or, perhaps, was he acting through someone? After all, there was someone who would do what he asked without question, someone who obviously had enough hatred for muggle-borns, and probably Squibs, too, to carry out a plan to terrorise the school – if Orville and April's analysis of the situation was correct.

At the same time, though, Draco was but a child, and Orville had reasonably asserted that the magic that would be required to open the Chamber and control what was inside could not possibly be within the abilities of a second-year student. And as for the part about Draco being Slytherin's Heir…something told Harry that that, too, seemed far-fetched. For some reason, his gut told him that if Draco had indeed been that, he would have made sure that the entire school knew about it the first day he arrived – nay, even on the Hogwarts Express.

Whatever it was, it was evident that there was something abnormal, something suspicious surrounding Lucius Malfoy, and perhaps Draco, too – even if he could not put his finger on what it was or why he felt that way. As it has happened so often in the last months, Harry was left with more open questions and no answers.

Harry was not the only one left with downturned spirits after the ball, for Tracey, too, seemed to have returned home with matters weighing on her mind. There was little need to guess the source of whatever was troubling her. It was quite evident that something had happened between her, Daphne, and Pansy.

Orville and April had noticed this, too. 'Did something happen between you and your…old friends?' April asked as they made their way home.

'Not really,' Tracey answered stiffly.

'Not really? So something happened.'

Tracey sighed and did not say anything for several minutes. For their part, nobody pushed her.

'They keep becoming…more and more different,' she said suddenly. 'I don't like what they're becoming. I don't know what's wrong. I don't know how to…how to get them back.'

'They're changing, and so are you,' Orville answered. 'There's nothing wrong with it, you don't need to like how they're changing, and you certainly don't need to "try" to get them back. It's natural. People change as they get older. You gain friends, you lose friends. It's all a part of life.'

'But I've known them for…for so long…' Tracey protested timidly. 'And now…now they're doing things that I don't like, I don't understand. Unkind things. Daphne said that they're the ones who've been pulling – '

'Pulling what?'

'They…well, they like to do…mean things to other children. They think it's funny, and they don't see anything wrong in it.'

'As I said, friends come and go,' Orville advised. 'Your childhood friends won't be your friends forever and you don't need to force them to be. I've always told you: you can't force others to see things the way you do. You'll meet new people. I'm pretty sure you already have.'

Tracey did not seem to take this advice to heart, however, for despite Harry offering for her to sit with him, Neville, and Hermione, on the trip back to Hogwarts, she refused, opting to again find Daphne and Pansy, hoping that this time, she could set things right with them. Harry did not want to argue with her or tell her that he believed it useless and that she should heed her parents' advice. If Tracey did not want to listen to her parents, she would not listen to him, either. In any case, he was not her father, and it was not really his place to do so.

The feast to mark the students' return to school was as lavish and nourishing as ever, but it did not entirely lift the dark mood many – Harry included – felt upon returning to Hogwarts after several weeks away. Of course, there was the end of nearly a month of freedom and the recommencement of classes, but everyone also realised that being back in Hogwarts castle meant coming once again into the reach of the dangers of the Chamber of Secrets and – though they might not know it by that name – the mysterious Heir of Slytherin. Despite all the safety measures around the castle, there was still no guarantee that there would be no more petrifications, and there was no telling when and upon whom the misfortune would fall.

It was a rude ending to the calming certainty of security. Harry wondered if they had grown too accustomed, perhaps even complacent, to that certainty over the past few weeks.