Chapter 37, The Chamber of Secrets II

For a few days, the school could talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch made sure no one could forget by attentively pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. Harry had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but his attempts were futile; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. When Filch wasn't guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like "breathing loudly" and "looking happy". Students were getting away with less than before, even when Mrs. Norris was on duty.

Ginny Weasley, Ron's little sister, seemed very disturbed by Mrs. Norris's fate. Ron explained this by saying she was a great cat lover. A few of Ginny's friends also seemed very affected, but Ron couldn't, nor did he try, to justify their points of view.

The attack also had an effect on Hermione, who now spent almost all of her time reading. She had read a lot before, but now she did little else. She appeared to be attempting to read the entire library in the pointless hopes that she may find information about the Chamber of Secrets. Ron reported promptly that she went to bed each night a little more frustrated than the last.

Of course, nobody could find information on the Chamber of Secrets, and they didn't get any answers until the following Wednesday, during History of Magic.

History of Magic was the dullest subject on their schedule. Professor Binns, who taught it, was their only ghost teacher, and the most exciting thing that ever happened in his classes was his entering the room through the blackboard. Ancient and shriveled, many people said he hadn't noticed he was dead. He had simply got up to teach one day and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staff room fire; his routine had not varied in the slightest since.

Today was as boring as ever. Professor Binns opened his notes and began to read in a flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone n the class was in a deep stupor, occasionally coming to long enough to copy down a name or date, then falling asleep again. He had been speaking for half an hour when something happened that had never happened before in his class. Hermione put up her hand.

Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of an incredibly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed.

"Miss—er—"

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.

Harry looked up from a piece of parchment he was scribbling on and Vanella gaped at Hermione. Draco merely arched an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

Dean Thomas, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance; Lavender Brown's head came up off her arms and Neville Longbottom's elbow slipped off his desk. Even Ron came out of his daze.

Professor Binns blinked.

"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like a chalk snapping and continued. "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers—"

He stuttered to a halt. Hermione's hand was waving incessantly in the air again.

"Miss Grant?"

"Granger. Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"

Professor Binns was looking at her in such amazement, Harry was sure no student had ever interrupted him before, alive or dead.

"Well," said Professor Binns slowly, "yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peered at Hermione as though he had never seen a student properly before. He probably hadn't ever seen one like Hermione. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale—"

But the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns's every word. He looked dimly at them all, each of their faces turned to his. Harry could tell he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.

"Oh, very well," he said slowly, almost disbelieving of the entire situation. "Let me see… the Chamber of Secrets…

"You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago—the precise date is uncertain—by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."

He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued.

"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept between all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy, or unworthy in general. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."

Professor Binns paused again, pursing his lips, looking like a wrinkled old tortoise.

"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing.

"Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."

There was silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn't the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns's classes. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more. Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed.

"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible."

Hermione's hand was back in the air.

"Sir—what exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?"

"That is believed to be some sort of terrible monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.

The class exchanged nervous looks.

"I tell you, the thing does not exist," said Professor Binns, shuffling his notes. "There is no Chamber and no monster."

"But, sir," said Seamus Finnigan, "if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?"

"Nonsense, O'Flaherty," said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. "If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found the thing—"

"But, Professor," piped up Parvati Patil, "you'd probably have to use Dark Magic to open it—"

"Just because a wizard doesn't use Dark Magic doesn't mean he can't, Miss Pennyfeather," snapped Professor Binns. "I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore—"

"But maybe you've got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn't—" began Dean Thomas, but Professor Binns had had enough.

"That will do," he said sharply. "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to history, to solid, believable, verifiable fact!"

And within five minutes, the class had sunk back into its usual torpor.

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"It says in my Hogwarts, A History book that Parseltongue is one of Slytherin's most prized traits. Which technically points the finger at us, Harry," stated Vanella that night. "Parseltongue is hereditary."

Harry looked up from his Transfiguration essay. "But I didn't get Parseltongue from my parents," he said, "neither of them spoke it. Dumbledore says I got it from Voldemort when he tried to kill me. That some of his power was transferred to me. Parseltongue was one of the powers, his powers."

"Which points the finger at me, Harry."

"You couldn't be Slytherin's heir, could you?"

For a moment they pondered the chances.

Finally Draco looked up from where he was etching away at a Potions essay. "My dad says it was opened fifty years ago."

Harry looked over at him. "When'd he say that?"

"In an letter. When Mrs. Norris was attacked I owled him, and I just got one back saying it was opened fifty years ago also."

"Fifty years ago… how was it opened?" Vanella asked.

Harry shook his head. "We know how. The question is, who? Because if we know who, then we know that their kid is the one doing it now."

Draco nodded. "How do we find that out? It's not like we can go around asking about who can order a monster to attack people."

Vanella thought. "We could look for clues at the scene. Who knows? Maybe there'll be a hint of some sort."

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That Saturday, they traveled up to that Hallway to have a look. Except for the lack of a hanging Mrs. Norris, and an empty chair where Filch had been keeping guard, it looked exactly as it had that night. The corridor was deserted, and "The Chamber of Secrets has been Opened" was still written in red on the wall.

Harry got down on his hands and knees and searched the floor for clues. "Scorch marks," he said. "Here—and here—"

"Look at this," said Vanella, surprise in her voice. "Never seen anything like that before…"

Harry got up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Vanella was looking at the topmost pane, where about twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.

"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" Vanella wondered.

Harry shook his head, "No. Draco?"

Draco moved over and looked at them. "No, never."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows as he watched the spiders, then turned away. "What about the puddle of water that was on the floor? Where had that come from?" he asked. He walked past the empty chair to point at the floor. "It's been mopped up, but it was right about there, level with this door."

Draco reached for the brass doorknob, but quickly withdrew his hand, glaring slightly at the door.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"That's a girls' toilet," Draco said. "Can't go in there."

Vanella waved it aside. "That's Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. There'll be no one in there. Come on, let's have a look."

She opened the door and ushered the two boys inside. Putting a finger to her lips, she set off toward the end stall. When she reached it, she said, "Hello, Myrtle, how are you?"

Harry and Draco moved over to look. Moaning Myrtle was floating above the tank of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin.

"This is a girls' bathroom," she said, eyeing Draco and Harry suspiciously. "They're not girls."

"No," Vanella agreed. "They aren't. We just wanted to ask you a question."

"Ask me a question?" Myrtle said. "No one's asked me a question in years…"

"We were wondering…" Harry said hesitantly, trying to phrase the question. "We were wondering if you saw anything suspicious the Halloween night."

"Suspicious?" Myrtle asked, staring at them, thoroughly suspicious by now.

Draco nodded. "A cat was attacked outside your door that night. Might you know anything? Did you see anyone?"

The ghost shook her translucent head. "I was preoccupied, you see, Peeves upset me so much at the party that I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then I remembered—I remembered—that, that I'm—I'm—"

"Already dead?" Harry offered helpfully.

The ghost nodded and gave a tragic sob, rose up into the air, turned over, and dove headfirst into the toilet, splashing water all over them and vanished from sight, but, judging from the direction of her muffled sobs, she had come to rest somewhere in the U-bend.

Harry and Draco stood dumbly with their eyebrows raised, but Vanella smiled wearily. "You know, that was pretty cheerful for Myrtle… come on, let's go."

They walked out the door, closing it, blocking out Myrtle's sobs. No sooner had they closed the door than a voice yelled, "Harry!"

The three turned to see Ron's older brother, a Gryffindor prefect, Percy, coming toward them.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking at each of them in turn. "That's a girls' bathroom."

Vanella cleared her throat. "Excuse me, but, I'm a girl, aren't I?"

Percy looked flabbergasted. "Well, yes, but that doesn't mean you can bring boys into the girls' bathroom. And, do you realize what this looks like?" he asked, waving his had towards the writing on the wall, which still looked as if it had just been written. "You coming back here while everyone's at dinner?"

The Slytherin second years exchanged looks. "You don't think we did it, do you, Percy?" asked Harry suspiciously. There seemed to be a lot of suspicious going on.

Percy rocked on his heels, thinking up an appropriate answer. "Well, all the evidence points to you."

Harry clenched his teeth and shoved past Percy, Vanella and Draco right behind him.

"Fifteen points from Slytherin for that!" Percy yelled out to them. "Shoving a Prefect!"

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Author's Note: If this seems familiar, that's cause it is. Most of this chapter is directly from the book. Don't sue me for plagiarism, I only used it because I cannot think of a better way to say what needed to be said in this chapter better than J. K. Rowling did. Consider it praise. Though there are quite a few things that I shifted around, or added to, or took out altogether. I still think it was a successful chapter, though….

Moving on…

Ginny's fate is still in my hands. I have a little nagging idea…. It'll be a surprise, whatever I choose.

Happy October, anyways.