Nearly six months later, in December, Harry was trying hard not to roll his eyes. This whole Duelling Club was turning out to be a joke, thanks to 'Professor' Gilderoy Lockhart himself. The man had gone from being blasted off the platform to losing control of the dozens of students flinging spells at one another.

How did I survive over three months of this idiot?

Once the chaos had been settled by Professor Snape and his General Counter-Spell, Lockhart went to check up on the students and their injuries. He made himself useful (at last) by announcing that he'd better teach the students how to block unfriendly spells.

"Let's have a volunteer pair," he said, looking around the Great Hall. "Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, perhaps?"

Snape scoffed and said that Neville caused devastation with the simplest of spells. He added that they would be sending what was left of Justin up to the hospital wing in a matchbox, which made Neville's round face go even pinker than usual.

"How about Weasley and Malfoy?" Snape asked, with a twisted smile. Lockhart agreed and tried to demonstrate the Disarming Charm, only to end up dropping his wand.

"Whoops," he said, picking up his wand in a hurry. "My wand is a little over-excited."

Thick as a troll, Harry thought, as he watched from the front of the crowd.

It wasn't long until Malfoy and Ron stood ready to duel in the middle of the Great Hall. Snape moved closer to Malfoy and whispered something in his ear, while Ron asked Lockhart to show him the Disarming Charm again.

"Don't worry," said Lockhart, cuffing Ron on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, and you'll be fine!" (Ron snorted.) "Three – two – one – go!"

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and yelled, "Serpensortia!"

A long black snake shot out of Malfoy's wand and hit the ground. Most of the crowd screamed and backed away from the snake, clearing the floor.

"Don't worry, Weasley," said Snape, walking forward with his wand at the ready. "I'll get rid of it –"

"Allow me!" said Lockhart. He brandished his wand but only ended up throwing the snake ten feet into the air. The snake landed near Tonks and slithered straight towards her, ready to strike.

This is ridiculous. Harry raised his wand (just as Snape did the same) and said, "Vipera Evanesca!"

The snake vanished in a puff of black smoke. Both Snape and Malfoy were glaring at Harry (while many others applauded him).

"Once again, Potter," said Snape in a scathing manner, "you seize the opportunity to inflate that overly large ego of yours." (The Slytherins laughed.) "Three points from Gryffindor for failing to stay in line, and another three for potentially escalating the situation!"

"Oh, come on!" said Tonks, moving to stand beside Harry. "You can't seriously punish him for that! What about Malfoy over there? He broke the rules and conjured a snake!"

Snape snarled. "You should speak last about breaking the rules, Miss Tonks. Four points from Gryffindor for disrespecting a teacher."

Brilliant. Ten points lost to a pile of rubbish.

"So," said Lockhart, looking to calm the situation, "shall we, er, move on? Who would like to come up next? Any volunteers?"

Several students looked down and became surprisingly interested in random things, such as their fingers. But then Lockhart spotted Harry's and Tonks's smiles, and called them up.

"I think not," said Snape, stepping forward. "Potter has already hogged enough of the spotlight for one night. I may not have enough Deflating Draught for his head."

Again, Malfoy and the Slytherins laughed. Harry felt his usual surge of hatred as he glared at Snape.

"Nott and Finch-Fletchley, step forward!" said Snape.

The weedy-looking Nott and the curly-haired Justin faced each other in the middle of the Great Hall. Harry saw Nott mutter something under his breath, which made Justin frown.

"Wands at the ready!" said Lockhart in a commanding tone. "Remember, disarm only! I don't want any more snakes being launched here."

Malfoy sniggered nearby. "Because you're too incompetent to vanish them."

"Shove off, prat," muttered Ron behind Harry.

Nott and Justin fired their Disarming Charms at the same time. The jets of scarlet light almost collided in midair, then missed both of their targets. Justin reacted just a bit too quickly for Nott.

"Expelliarmus!"

Nott cussed as he was thrown onto his back. Justin ignored Nott's wand and returned to the applauding crowd.

"Excellent!" said Lockhart, beaming. "Ten points to Hufflepuff, Mr Finch-Fletchley!"

"I'll tell you later," Justin muttered to Ernie Macmillan, when the latter asked what Nott had said. "But you probably already know."

The rest of the evening passed without much incident; and when Lockhart dismissed them all, Harry and Tonks rushed ahead of the group.

"What a waste of an evening," said Tonks. Then she dropped her voice to a whisper, once they were out of earshot. "You know, when that snake came after you, I thought for sure you were going to speak, well ... you know."

Harry shook his head. He had long since revealed his Parseltongue ability to Tonks, who found it both fascinating and perplexing.

"That'd be the worst thing to do these days," he said, "or any day, I guess. Last thing I need is for people to think I'm the heir."

Tonks sniggered. "The heir with messy hair."

The next day brought a ferocious blizzard which cancelled the last Herbology class of the term. Harry caught up with Justin's group at the back of the library to discuss Nott.

"He was all talk, though," said Justin, looking proud of himself. "Thought he could bring up the heir to scare me."

Harry rubbed his chin while staring at a table. "Wish I knew who the heir is, though. It has to be someone in Slytherin."

"Well, duh," said Hannah Abbott, a girl with blonde pigtails. "Everyone knows that the Chamber of Secrets was built by Salazar Slytherin. Professor Binns told us in class."

Ernie nodded. "I think everyone's asked old Binns by now. Who's your pick for heir, if I might ask?"

"Probably Malfoy," said Harry, "though I'm not sure. He's not clever enough to pull such a stunt."

"Agreed," said Justin, opening his History of Magic textbook at the table. "My guess is on one of the seniors. In fact, it might not even be a chap. Could be a girl hiding behind 'heir', for all we know."

But try as they might, neither Harry nor the Hufflepuffs could deduce the heir (or heiress, perhaps). And to make matters worse, Harry soon heard a strange voice out of nowhere, while wandering the corridor. It was a voice of breath-taking, ice-cold venom.

"Come to me ... let me rip you ... let me tear you ... let me KILL YOU!"

What? "Who's there?" Harry asked, drawing his wand. "Come out!"

But there wasn't a single person in the corridor. Harry even tried one of his recently learned spells, the Human-Presence Revealing one, to no effect. And to make matters worse, it wasn't long until Peeves came zooming round a distant corner, screaming.

"ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"

When Harry arrived on the scene, he gaped at the sight of a petrified ghost. Nearly Headless Nick was no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, and was floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor.

I don't understand.

Professor McGonagall, who had since ushered everyone back into their classrooms, conjured a large fan out of thin air. She spotted Harry staring at Nick.

"For goodness sake, Potter! Don't tell me you were walking alone when this happened?"

Harry nodded. "If I'd just been a bit quicker –"

"You'd've been next!" said Professor McGonagall, pale-faced and trembling. "Here, go waft Sir Nicholas up to the hospital wing. Actually, wait, I shall accompany you."

Harry gestured towards a distant door. "Don't you have a class to watch, Professor?"

"Don't be daft, Potter. You'd be a high-value target to whoever the heir of Slytherin is. What if they were coming after you and ran into Sir Nicholas instead?"

Good point. Harry stared at his wand in his hand. "I'm not scared of the heir. In fact, I've been studying harder than ever. I can even do Homenum Revelio now."

"Really?" said Professor McGonagall, raising her brows. "And have you used it recently?"

"Just now, yes, but it didn't pick up anyone. What if the heir's not human?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "Unlikely. And besides, there's always a chance that the heir's employed countermeasures beyond your abilities. We don't know who we're dealing with at the moment."

"Why not search the whole Slytherin house, then? Surely Snape can check the common room or something?"

"You don't think he hasn't tried?" Professor McGonagall sighed. "Come along, now. The last thing I need is for you to end up in the hospital wing again."

Under Professor McGonagall's watchful eye, Harry wafted Nick upstairs and eventually to the hospital wing. He was placed on a bed not too far away from the petrified Mrs Norris and Colin Creevey, while Madam Pomfrey remained stumped.

"Never," she said, gawking, "have I ever tended to a ghost! Let alone one that's petrified! What's next? Peeves?"

Professor McGonagall gave a slight snort. "That would cheer Mr Filch up, at least."

"And what's Potter doing here?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "Not being chased by any more tampered-Bludgers, are we?"

Harry shook his head. "Thankfully not." Damn that stupid elf.

"Well," said Madam Pomfrey, looking unsure of what to do, "you'd best be on your way to your next class ... whatever it may be."

"Transfiguration," said Professor McGonagall, grabbing Harry by the arm. "To class, Potter. You're the last person who should be wandering on their own these days."

But that was when Harry remembered the mysterious voice. He waited until they were out of the hospital wing to inform Professor McGonagall.

"I'm sorry, what?" Professor McGonagall looked down at Harry in a cynical manner. "Is this a joke?"

"I'm serious," said Harry, as they stopped in the corridor. "It sounded strange, like an evil person or something. It kept saying it was going to rip, tear, and kill."

Professor McGonagall stared at him for a moment. "Perhaps Professor Dumbledore can make sense of this. Let's not waste any time."

"But, Professor, what about class?"

"Class can wait," said Professor McGonagall, hurrying down the corridor. Her tall stature meant that Harry had to almost run to keep up. And when they reached the stone gargoyle some time later, Professor McGonagall spoke the password ("Sherbet Lemon!") and took them up to the Headmaster's office.

"Good morning, Harry, Minerva," said Dumbledore behind his desk. "Can I assume that you've brought news about the heir of Slytherin? Or at least, about Sir Nicholas's attack?"

"That depends," said Professor McGonagall, shutting the door. "Potter's just informed me that he heard an unknown, malevolent voice somewhere in the corridor, shortly before the attack. I believe it mentioned wanting to rip, tear, and kill."

Dumbledore gave Harry a penetrating, almost X-raying look with his light-blue eyes. They seemed to be twinkling, in a way.

"Did anyone else hear this voice?" Dumbledore asked, and Harry shrugged.

"I was alone in the corridor, so I can't say. Maybe Sir Nicholas heard it, too."

"That is a possibility, I suppose," said Dumbledore, stroking his beard. "Is this the first time you've heard this voice? What about when Mrs Norris and Mr Creevey were attacked?"

Harry thought back to the first incident and shook his head. "Mrs Norris was petrified on Hallowe'en, right? Tonks and I were still at the Deathday Party when it happened." He paused to consider the second incident. "And as for Colin, well ... I was in the hospital wing, thanks to Lockhart."

"Yes, I remember that," said Dumbledore, still stroking his beard while deep in thought. "And the hospital wing is a considerable distance from where Mr Creevey was attacked."

Maybe I should tell him. "Erm, sir, there's one other thing."

Both Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall looked at Harry, who proceeded to tell of the mysterious Dobby.

"Dobby?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking puzzled. "Do we have a house-elf by that name?"

"I cannot be certain," said Dumbledore, standing up. "Perhaps I should consult the kitchens' staff. If you'll excuse me ..."

He grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the back of his office. Then he got on his knees and initiated a fire-call to the kitchens.

"Break's already over," said Professor McGonagall, checking her watch. "But if this can link us to the heir and their monster, well, it will be worth our time."

Eventually, Dumbledore ended the call and informed Harry and Professor McGonagall that Dobby may belong to the Malfoy family.

"I knew it!" said Harry, despite having made no connection between them. "I knew the Malfoys had something to do with this!"

Professor McGonagall went tight-lipped from fury. "You mean to tell me that one of our students is conspiring to murder their peers? I thought Draco Malfoy was all talk!"

"He most likely is," said Dumbledore, raising his hand as if to say 'stop' to Harry and Professor McGonagall. "I do not believe that Draco has much – if anything – to do with this. More likely, it is Lucius who has a hand in things somehow."

"And perhaps Narcissa, too," said Harry, clenching his fist. "She's not exactly an angel or anything."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Agreed. So what's our next step, then, Dumbledore? Shall I pull Malfoy aside for a chat?"

"The primary issue, however," said Dumbledore, "is that I do not believe that any of the Malfoys are the heir."

Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "I seem to recall you mentioning that it's not a case of who, but rather how."

"Indeed I have," said Dumbledore, staring out the window. "My suspicions are, of course, on Lord Voldemort himself," (Harry and Professor McGonagall gawked) "which is why I am confounded as to how, exactly, he is co-ordinating these attacks."

Harry frowned. "Maybe we should force Dobby into telling us. Could be a Malfoy helping Voldemort's spirit or something."

"No," said Dumbledore, shaking his head. "We cannot force their house-elf to speak, regardless if he has attempted to aid you. And as for Voldemort's access to the school, the staff has already confirmed the absence of any unwanted persons." His silver beard twitched. "Well, besides Gilderoy Lockhart, of course."

"Maybe it's him!" said Harry, gritting his teeth. "There's no way he's really so thick! He could be another Quirrell!"

Dumbledore smiled. "A fair assumption, but untrue."

"In that case," said Professor McGonagall, "the only things to go on are that You-Know-Who's the heir, that he's petrifying beyond standard-reversal, that he's somehow opening the Chamber of Secrets right under our noses, and that the Malfoys are somehow involved."

Harry snapped his fingers. "What if he's using Dobby? House-elves can bypass protective enchantments, right?"

"That depends on the enchantments in question," said Dumbledore, looking thoughtful. "A house-elf cannot simply Apparate into Azkaban or Gringotts, for example. And neither would Lord Voldemort and his followers use such a servant in such a manner."

"Plus," said Professor McGonagall, "most house-elves would prefer to avoid such shame. Dobby, at least, seems to disagree with the Chamber of Secrets."

They stood in silence in the office until Dumbledore spoke.

"We can continue our discussion some other time. Harry, before you go, might I ask that you avoid travelling alone from here on out?"

Harry obliged. Then he left the office with Professor McGonagall.

The lull which had grown over the past few weeks had died down. Students, staff, and even the ghosts were looking over their shoulders every once in a while. And when Professor McGonagall took the names of those looking to stay for Christmas, hundreds of students rushed to book their seats on the Hogwarts Express.

Can't blame them, really.

But as for Harry and Tonks, they decided to prioritise the Chamber of Secrets instead. Harry had even written a letter to Tonks's parents, who wished them luck and asked that they stay safe.

"This better be worth it," Tonks said in a corridor. Then they saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle walking around as well. "What? Aren't you rejects going home?"

Malfoy, as usual, sneered. "I'd ask you the same thing. Don't tell me you're looking to catch the heir like this? I'd like to see you try."

"You're bluffing," said Harry, drawing his wand (everyone else did the same). "No way the heir of Slytherin would bother with the likes of you."

"Is that so?" said Malfoy, keeping his wand raised. "Well, I'd like to see what they get up to in the holidays. Where's Granger when you need her?"

Crabbe and Goyle cackled with laughter. Harry was this close to firing a spell.

"Actually, wait," said Malfoy, looking even more smug, "it would've been a lot funnier if your mother was still around. How long do you think she'd last until her filthy blood gets petrified?"

Harry was about to hex Malfoy when he thought about the House Championship. So far, Gryffindor were trailing the leading Slytherin by around sixty points. No doubt Malfoy was looking to goad Harry into getting his house penalised; a guess which was confirmed by Snape striding around the corner.

"Potter! Tonks! Put away those wands at once!"

Harry and Tonks did as they were told. They didn't even bother arguing about Malfoy's, Crabbe's, and Goyle's wands being out, too.

"Nice try," Harry muttered to Malfoy, before turning around and passing Snape in the corridor. He really is all talk, I'd say.

On Christmas morning, Harry woke up late and rushed to see his presents. He had received all manner of gifts this year, with his last two being an intermediate guide to the Shield Charm from Mrs Tonks, and a shining silvery cloth accompanied by a message in Dumbledore's handwriting:

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you.

Use it well.

A Very Merry Christmas to you.

"Blimey!" said Ron, picking up the cloth. "This is an Invisibility Cloak!"

Harry nodded while staring at the Cloak. "Yeah, and it belonged to my dad."

"Well, that's weird," said Ron, returning the Cloak. "Cloaks don't usually last that long. Try it on!"

Harry did that and snuck down to the common room, where Fred, George, and Tonks were planning their next prank at a table (Ginny was reading a Chudley Cannons book nearby). He walked right up to Tonks and patted her on the back.

"What the –?" Tonks looked around. "Who's there?"

Fred and George looked just as puzzled. And when Harry pulled off the Cloak, everyone gasped and rushed to check it out. Tonks and the twins immediately recommended that Harry use it for pranking.

"Or I could use it to catch the heir," Harry said, and Ginny's eyes went wide.

"But that's dangerous!"

Tonks grinned. "Exactly!"

"Can I come with?" Ron asked, after closing the boys' dormitory door. "Just this once, at least."

"Yeah, OK, fine," said Tonks.

They had a quick breakfast in the common room before slipping under the Cloak, then heading down to the dungeons. But despite having a blast of a time wandering the labyrinthine corridors, neither Harry, Tonks, nor Ron could find any sign of the heir.

"Of course it wouldn't be this easy," said Harry, sighing.

When they went down to the Great Hall later that day, their eyes went wide at the décor. There were a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees placed around the room, thick streamers of holly and mistletoe criss-crossing the enchanted ceiling, and even enchanted snow falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling.

"Wicked!" said Tonks, standing at the doorway with Harry. "Just don't expect me to sing."

Harry chuckled as he thought back to their time at home. Tonks could certainly sing if she wanted, especially when it came to her parents' favourite Muggle-songs.

Not wasting any time, Tonks grabbed Harry by the arm and led him towards the near-empty Gryffindor table. They were joined by the Weasleys and Penelope Clearwater, the latter seeing no reason to sit by herself at the Ravenclaw table.

Up at the staff table, Harry saw Dumbledore, Hagrid, and Professors McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, Flitwick, Lockhart, and even a surly Filch.

"Merry Christmas!" said Dumbledore, beaming at them all. "Please, dig in!"

The best part about today's feast was the wide variety of foods and drinks on offer, and the teachers acting a bit more casually than usual. The worst part, however, was Lockhart basking in the atmosphere and trying to steal the spotlight as usual.

"... just ask Professor Flitwick!" he told a few Hufflepuffs, who'd enquired about the decorations. "I gave him a few tips from my own experience, you know! It never hurts to spice things up a little!"

Flitwick seemed oddly interested in his treacle tart, all of a sudden.

"And the trees!" Lockhart told Malfoy's group (who were sniggering). "I gave Hagrid some expert advice on proper uprooting and placement. I daresay we've done an excellent job, right, Hagrid?"

Hagrid grunted as he downed a bit more eggnog than usual.

Once the Christmas dinner was over, Harry joined Tonks for another invisible stroll through the corridors. They didn't stray too far while keeping an ear out for the heir, though they soon returned to the common room empty-handed again.

A week after the start of term, Slytherin pulverised Ravenclaw in Quidditch. Marcus Flint made no effort to hide his delight over their victory, and he often taunted Oliver Wood whenever they crossed paths.

"How's that one-fifty looking down there?" Flint asked, chortling. He was referring to the fact that Gryffindor had scored nothing before Harry narrowly edged past Malfoy (while Slytherin had scored eight goals). "I believe we're on, what, three hundred and seventy after two games?"

Wood clenched his jaw. "Then we'll just beat Hufflepuff by at least two-twenty!"

"Sure," said Flint, "so long as your Seeker doesn't break his arm again."

Malfoy and the others guffawed, though their expressions quickly soured when Harry mentioned that he beat Malfoy to the Snitch.

"That was just dumb luck," said Malfoy, narrowing his eyes. "Struggled an awful lot, didn't you? So much for the 'best' Seeker in the school."

Harry snorted. "Who wouldn't struggle on a Cleansweep Seven like that? I don't need the most expensive broom at school level."

"Who cares?" said Flint, waving his hand dismissively. "End of the season, we'll be the ones to take the Cup. Save the moral speeches for someone else, Potter."

And they left, jeering.

But just as life at Hogwarts had regained a sense of normalcy, Harry and Tonks once again found themselves in the thick of things. This time, they were wandering down a corridor in mid-January when they were accosted by Filch.

"So it's you, eh?" he said, fuming. "Of all the students I run into after seeing that mess ..."

Tonks blinked. "What?"

"Don't play dumb with me!" said Filch, shaking his fist. "You're the one who's always fooling around, especially with Dungbombs! Think it's funny to go clogging up toilets, eh? I'll be having a word with your Head of House about this!"

"Which toilets?" asked Tonks, and Filch narrowed his eyes.

"The one you obviously clogged! In Moaning Myrtle's bathroom!"

Tonks laughed. "Why would I go there? And that's a lame prank anyway."

"Be quiet!" said Filch, moving forward. "We're going to have a word with Professor McGonagall right now!"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Harry, creasing his brows. "We didn't go near that bathroom! Maybe it was Peeves?"

But Filch didn't care, and he ushered both Harry and Tonks to Professor McGonagall's office. Ranting and raving, Filch explained the situation and demanded that Harry and Tonks be given detention, preferably by cleaning the flooded bathroom without magic.

"No bloody way!" said Tonks, stomping her foot. "We didn't go near that miserable bathroom! We were studying the Shield Charm downstairs!"

Harry nodded. "I can do it partially! Look!" Then he drew his wand. "Protego!"

Professor McGonagall casually flicked her wand and sent a sprinkle of red sparks at Harry. She blinked when some of the sparks bounced off the invisible barrier.

"Impressive," she said, "especially for a second-year. Ten points to Gryffindor, Mr Potter."

Filch seethed and sputtered behind them. Harry and Tonks glanced at each other and smiled.

"In any case," said Professor McGonagall, "I'm inclined to believe their alibi, Mr Filch. If there's nothing else, you may return to your duties."

Filch stormed off to grab a new set of cleaning tools.

"Do try to steer clear of him," Professor McGonagall told Harry and Tonks. "The sooner Mrs Norris is cured, the better."

"Yeah, right," said Tonks, with a slight snort. Then she turned to face Harry. "Think we should check out that bathroom?"

"Don't see why not," said Harry, shrugging.

They left to examine the source of Filch's most-recent misery upstairs. Upon their arrival, Harry and Tonks saw a great flood of water stretched over half the corridor. It appeared to be seeping out from under the door to Myrtle's bathroom.

"Poor Filch," said Tonks, not sounding sorry at all. "Imagine cleaning this up without magic."

Holding their robes over their ankles, Harry and Tonks stepped through the great wash of water to the door bearing its 'Out of Order' sign. They ignored it and entered a dark, depressing bathroom. There was a row of chipped, stone sinks under a large, cracked and spotted mirror (a small black book lay soaked beneath the sinks). The candles had been extinguished by the rush of water which had left both the walls and floor soaking wet. The wooden doors to the cubicles were flaking and scratched, and one of them was dangling off its hinges.

"Shhh," said Tonks, tiptoeing into the deserted bathroom. "Looks like Myrtle's not home."

"For now, at least," said Harry, looking around. "I wonder who'd be up to this?"

While Tonks examined the clogged toilet, Harry bent at the sinks and picked up the small, thin black book. It looked like an ordinary diary, until Harry opened it up and scanned the front page.

You've got to be joking! "Hey, Tonks!" he said, after spotting the name 'T.M. Riddle' in smudged ink. "You won't believe what I just found!"

Tonks rushed through the flood of water. "What?"

"Look here," Harry said, tapping on the name (Tonks looked puzzled). "We should take this to Dumbledore right now!"

"I don't understand."

Harry nudged Tonks towards the door, then out into the corridor. He spoke while hurrying through the flood of water and paging through the diary.

"'T.M. Riddle' could stand for Tom Marvolo Riddle!"

"Wait, what?" Tonks gasped. "Isn't that ... Voldemort's name?"

"You bet!" said Harry, stopping at a corner. "Hold on. This is annoying."

He drew his wand and cast the Wiping Spell on his and Tonks's wet shoes (Tonks smiled). Then he set off for the next corridor.

"The rest of the pages are blank," Harry said, pointing his wand at the opened diary. "Let's see ... Papyrus Revelio!"

The pages remained blank.

"Let me try!" said Tonks, taking aim at the book. "Aparecium!"

Again, nothing happened.

"Blimey," said Harry, blinking. "Must be some powerful Dark magic in here. Wonder why Voldemort would need a blank diary, though?"

"And a Muggle one, too."

"Nah, that's understandable," said Harry, rounding a corner. "Tom Riddle's a half-blood, remember?"

"Oh, right." Tonks snorted with laughter. "We get all the big names these days, don't we?"

At last, they arrived at the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office. Harry spoke the password and rushed up the spiral staircase. He took a deep breath in and out before rapping with the griffon knocker on the oak door.

This'll be a real shock, I'd bet.