"One thing to ask…how can you stand the storms like this?" Merula asks, looking to Zarif as they look out a rain-covered window.

"They're alright. I just see them as necessary to grow our food and herbs," Zarif says.

"Is that all?" Merula asks, turning to eye him as he kept staring.

Zarif slowly sighs and thinks back to that day. The day he learned he was a wizard. "…no…but not telling at the moment." He did get used to it all.

"Oh, there is a story behind it," Merula says.

"Yes. But like I said, not telling," Zarif notes, turning to look at her. "Maybe not yet," he says with mirth on his face.

Before Merula could say anything else, Hermione comes into the great hall with a load of books much like their own. "Oh, hi Zarif, Merula," Hermione greets as she sets down the books.

"I see your spirits have picked up," Zarif says.

"I found some pretty good books in the library. Planning to read it over Halloween," Hermione says happily.

"Good, though Draco hasn't had as much respect over the time," Merula says smirking.

"Eh. He'll be fine. He certainly has been through worse by you," Zarif chuckles as he looks to Merula.

"Yeah, now our Quidditch captain is going to be judging him very hard as I let it slip to him that what good are the brooms his father bought for the entire team if he can't come through when it matters the most," Merula says.

"Oh, and the first match will be against Gryffindor and Wood has been training the team like mad," Zarif says smirking as he envisions what the guy would do if they lost the match because of Draco.

"So will you come to our house ghost's death day?" Hermione asks.

"That's like a birthday? Only a ghost's death, right?" Zarif asks.

"Something like that," Hermione agrees.

"When is it?" Zarif asks.

"Halloween night. It's supposed to be around the time of the banquet," Hermione says.

"Sure, I will come. How about you Merula?" Zarif asks.

Merula smiles. "Sure. I am hungry for a feast anyway."

'I doubt there would be one and will have to tell Flitwick so he will end the extra lessons early. Though, I am happy with the progress I have made so far with my second wand. I no longer have as bad of a backlash now,' Zarif thinks.

Zarif left Flitwick's lesson that Sunday night and headed off to meet up with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Merula. They soon were heading down a passageway to the party. Along the passageway leading to Nearly Headless Nick's party had been lined with candles, too, though the effect was far from cheerful: These were long, thin, jet-black tapers, all burning bright blue, casting a dim, ghostly light, even over their own living faces. The temperature dropped with every step they took. As Harry shivered and drew his robes tightly around him, he heard what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.

"Is that supposed to be music?" Ron whispered. They turned a corner and saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.

'Oww,' Zarif thinks covering his ears.

"My dear friends," Nick said mournfully. "Welcome, welcome…so pleased you could come…" Nick finishes as he swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside. It was an incredible sight. The dungeon was full of hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful, quavering sound of thirty musical saws, played by an orchestra on a raised, black-draped platform. A chandelier overhead blazed midnight-blue with a thousand more black candles. Their breath rose in a mist before them; it was like stepping into a freezer.

"Sorry we didn't inform you we were coming Nick," Zarif says smiling to his house ghost.

"Oh, no need at all," Nick says sounding very happy about them coming.

"Respect a ghost," Zarif repeated.

Nick smiles and lets the five starts to socialize and talk with the ghosts. The socializing only stopped when the orchestra fell silent. Zarif was confused while most of the ghosts were looking around in excitement, as a hunting horn sounded.

"Oh, here we go," Nick says bitterly.

Through the dungeon wall burst a dozen ghost horses, each ridden by a headless horseman. The assembly clapped wildly; Zarif was confused by this and just watched. The horses galloped into the middle of the dance floor and halted, rearing and plunging. At the front of the pack was a large ghost who held his bearded head under his arm, from which position he was blowing the horn. The ghost leaped down, lifted his head high in the air so he could see over the crowd making many laughs, and strode over to Nearly Headless Nick, squashing his head back onto his neck.

"Nick!" he roared. "How are you? Head still hanging in there?"

He gave a hearty guffaw and clapped Nearly Headless Nick on the shoulder. "Welcome, Patrick," said Nick stiffly.

"Live 'uns!" said Sir Patrick, spotting Harry, Ron, and Hermione and giving a huge, fake jump of astonishment, so that his head fell off again making the crowd fall off.

"Very amusing," said Nearly Headless Nick darkly.

"Don't mind Nick!" shouted Sir Patrick's head from the floor. "Still upset we won't let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say, look at the fellow…"

"I think," Harry said hurriedly, at a meaningful look from Nick before Zarif cut in to help, "Well, I know Nick can be quite scary if he puts his effort into it. I remember he scared that gang of seventh year Slytherin's recent."

"Ha!" Sir Patrick's head yelled while Nick gave him an approving expression. "Bet he asked you to say that!"

"If I could have everyone's attention, it's time for my speech!" Nearly Headless Nick says loudly, striding toward the podium and climbing into an icy blue spotlight. "My late lamented lords, ladies, and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow…"

But nobody heard much more. Sir Patrick and the rest of the Headless Hunt had just started a game of Head Hockey and the crowd was turning to watch. Nearly Headless Nick tried vainly to recapture his audience, but gave up as Sir Patrick's head went sailing past him to loud cheers. After a bit, Ron started talking about being hungry, making them all start to feel hungry as well and deciding to head out. Before Zarif left though, he took out his wand and wrote a message in the air, thanking Nick for inviting them and to have a fun time.

"Well…at least people are having fun," Nick states to himself before finding the floating words. "Oh…well then…" he chuckles as he floats off to enjoy himself.

The group of five head up the passageway again, hoping to get back before the feat was done when Harry heard something on the way to the entrance hall's stairs, causing him to stumble to a halt. "What is it?" Merula asks.

Harry himself was clutching the stone wall, looking to be listening. "It's that voice again…shut up a minute…"

'Voice?' Zarif thought as he watched his friend now listening as well confused.

"Listen!" said Harry urgently, and the rest of the group stood there frozen, watching him.

"Is…he always like this?" Merula asks, leaning over to Zarif.

"Definitely recent," Zarif whispers back.

"This way," he shouted, and he began to run, up the stairs, into the entrance hall. It was no good hoping to hear anything here, the babble of talk from the Halloween feast was echoing out of the Great Hall. Harry sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, Ron and Hermione clattering behind him.

"Harry, what're we…" Ron started.

"SHH!"

"It's going to kill someone!" he shouted, and ignoring Ron's and Hermione's bewildered faces, he ran up the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over his own pounding footsteps. Harry hurtled around the whole of the second floor, Ron and Hermione panting behind him, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

"Harry, what was that all about?" said Ron, wiping the sweat off his face. "I couldn't hear anything…" but Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor.

"Look!"

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

'THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.'

"What's that thing…hanging underneath?" said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

Zarif and Merula nearly knew what it was immediately. "MRS. NORRIS!"

Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

For a few seconds, they didn't move. Then Ron said, "Let's get out of here."

"We need to get the professors," Zarif says seriously.

"And they would think we did it," Ron pointed out.

But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.

The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Merula, and Zarif stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight. Then someone shouted through the quiet.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.

"What's going on here? What's going on?"

Attracted no doubt by Malfoy's shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked.

And his popping eyes fell on Harry.

"You!" he screeched. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll…"

"Argus!"

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron, Hermione, Merula, and Zarif and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," Dumbledore said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Mrs. Snyde, and Mr. Trazax," Dumbledore instructs as if knowing this would be a time to shine, Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster…just upstairs…please feel free…" he says.

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape. As they entered Lockhart's darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore lay Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Merula, and Zarif exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching.

"It was definitely a curse that killed her…probably the Transmogrifian Torture…I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her…"

Lockhart's comments were punctuated by Filch's dry, racking sobs. He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs. Norris, his face in his hands. Zarif, seeing this, pats Flitch on the back to try and comfort him a bit as Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand but nothing happened. She continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed.

"…I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogou," Lockhart continued, "A series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once…" The photographs of Lockhart on the walls were all nodding in agreement as he talked. One of them had forgotten to remove his hair net.

'Oh, shut up you egotistical prat,' Zarif thinks.

At last, Dumbledore straightened up. "She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented. "Not dead?" choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris. "But why's she all…all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been Petrified," said Dumbledore.

"Ah! I thought so!" Lockhart says, making Zarif glare at the man's back a lot like Snape was doing.

"But how, I cannot say…"

"Ask him!" shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tear-stained face to Harry.

"No second year could have done this," said Dumbledore firmly. "It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced…"

"He did it, he did it!" Filch spat, his pouchy face purpling. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found…in my office…he knows I'm a…I'm a…" Filch's face worked horribly. "He knows I'm a Squib!" he finished.

"I never touched Mrs. Norris!" Harry said loudly, uncomfortably aware of everyone looking at him, including all the Lockharts on the walls. "And I don't even know what a Squib is."

"Rubbish!" snarled Filch. "He saw my Kwikspell letter!"

"If I might speak, Headmaster," said Snape from the shadows, and Harry's sense of foreboding increased; he was sure nothing Snape had to say was going to do him any good.

"Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it. "But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"

"Easy answer. We were all at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday celebration. The Headless hunt recently arrived as well," Zarif says to explain as a few were surprised Snape was defending Harry but drew everyone's attention to make them all remember who else was in the room now.

"But why not join the feast afterward?" Snape asks, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. "Why go up to that corridor?"

"…" Zarif held his tongue as he looks at Harry to give an explanation for it.

"Because Harry claimed to be hearing something. He pressed himself against the wall in the dungeon to listen for it," Merula blurted out.

Everyone's eyes were on her now, looking like she was under a lot of pressure from all of this.

Zarif walks over as she starts to stutter out more words until he placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her and calming her down. "No one will blame you afterward," he whispered to her.

Harry didn't give them any more answers after that, prompting Snape to say, "I suggest, Headmaster, that until Potter is ready to tell us the rest," he started. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready, to be honest."

"Really, Severus," Professor McGonagall says sharply, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong."

Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Harry feel as though he were being X-rayed. "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said firmly.

Snape looked a bit furious at that and so did Filch. "My cat has been Petrified!" he shrieked, his eyes popping. "I want to see some punishment!"

"We will be able to cure her, Argus," Dumbledore says patiently. "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."

"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep…"

"Excuse me," Snape says icily. "But I believe I am the Potions master at this school."

'Thank you so much professor,' Zarif thinks in the very awkward pause.

"You may go," Dumbledore said to the group of students.

They went, as quickly as they could without actually running. When they were a floor up from Lockhart's office, they turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind them. Harry squinted at his friends' darkened faces. "D'you think I should have told them more about that voice I heard?"

"No," Ron starts, without hesitation. "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world," Ron says, leaving a bit of a glare at Merula only for Zarif to glare back at him.

"You do believe me, don't you?" Harry asks.

"Course I do," Ron says quickly. "But…you must admit, it's weird…"

"I know it's weird," Harry says. "The whole thing's weird. What was that writing on the wall about? The Chamber Has Been Opened…what's that supposed to mean?"

"You know, it rings a sort of bell," Ron says slowly thinking about it from the sound of his tone. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once…might've been Bill…"

"And what on earth's a Squib?" Harry says and to his surprise, Ron stifled a snigger.

"Basically, it's a person with no magic coming from a wizarding family. To many, it's an embarrassment to a family," Merula informs as the bell chimes, signaling it was midnight.

"We should get to bed now. No point in fussing about this tonight," Zarif informs and they all nod in agreement and start to leave, but Zarif grabs Merula's arm and stops her short until the three were out of sight. "You told."

"I'm sorry. It's just…" Merula started before Zarif hugs her.

"It's okay. As I said, I know where you come from. It's fine. Besides…got out of that mess fine enough for now and I will make sure no one blames you for it," Zarif promises.

"Thanks," Merula says before hugging back.

Zarif smiles and chuckles a little. "You broke character."

"Shut it," Merula hissed.

"That's the one I know," Zarif kept chuckling as he lets go of her.

Merula growls as she walks away.

Zarif just gives a soft smile as well as a soft wave as she leaves and away from sight, still holding a scowl, but a slightly embarrassed tint nonetheless. "Yep. Broke it."

For the next few days, the only thing the students could talk about is the attack on Mrs. Norris, but it finally came to a head in History of Magic one day when Hermione raised her hand.

Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly 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. 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. Zarif, whose eyes had been drooping, shot straight up fully alert and 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 chalk slipping and continued, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers…" he stuttered to a halt. Hermione's hand was waving in the air again. "Miss Grant?"

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

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. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale…" bug the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns's every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. Harry could tell he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest. "Oh, very well," he said slowly. "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 within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. 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 Secret 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 monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.

After that, Zarif mostly tuned out the rest of the class before getting an unused parchment and start writing his thoughts and musings about the chamber of secrets.

'What is Slytherin most famous for…Parseltongue and his pureblood supremacy views. Chamber monster most likely…snake of some kind?'

Zarif was mostly lost in his thoughts for the rest of the day and when only really came back to reality when he was back at the scene, having been following Harry, Ron, and Hermione the entire way and seeing that a new note had been added to his parchment. 'Spider's seeming to be fleeing the castle.'

Harry then spoke getting their attention, "Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone's mopped it up."

Zarif thought about it and did recall there was water on the floor so he added it to his notes as well. 'Water at the scene of the crime.' Zarif was about to continue when the bell rang, signaling it was five. "I have to run. I have lessons with Professor Snape," Zarif says before running off.

"I feel sorry for him," Ron comments as they go back to looking.

"You are three minutes early," Snape says looking up from his table as Zarif entered.

"Finished early sir," Zarif quickly explains as he gets out the Defense Against the Dark Arts book and flips to where he stopped on the last lesson.

"Then we will continue," Snape says before releasing something that flew at Zarif.

"Stupefy!" Zarif calls unsheathing his wand and a stunned vampire bat lands on his desk.

"You learn enough. And no recoil or rather enough to throw you back," Snape observes, standing up slowly as he closes the book on his table, Zarif catching it looks like a ruined potions book. "Your reaction time is also improved. So we will move on to a different subject like Trolls," Snape says before flicking his wand and Zarif's book flipped to the section on trolls.

"How to deal with them, I assume?" Zarif asks, picking up the book and looking over the section.

Snape ignored the question and started to lecture him on the subject.

"Professor…I have been meaning to ask…" Zarif starts.

"Yes?" Snape says in a droll voice.

"I have been wondering about potions…hard potions. Like Polyjuice," Zarif asks, looking up to him.

Snape raised his eyebrow and Zarif's book closed. "What about them?" Snape asks.

"I want to learn about it. The hard potions," Zarif explains, slowly pushing the book to the side.

"How much do you wish to learn?" Snape asks his eyes on Zarif as if analyzing him.

"Everything," Zarif informs.

"It enables the consumer to assume the physical appearance of another person, as long as they have first procured part of that individual's body to add to the brew," Hermione explains, holding up the potions book in the girl's bathroom.

"So why am I here?" Merula asks Hermione.

"Because you can get us in easier than just wasting time at getting in the front door by password," Hermione says, tapping the spot where she was, walking around them.

"You really think Malfoy is behind that?" Merula asks.

"I am not sure, but Ron and Harry think so," Hermione says.

"Well, if you are going through with this, then you will have to put it on hold as tomorrow is the first Quidditch match," Merula reminds.

"The potion will take about a month or so to brew anyway. I need to gather ingredients," Hermione explains.

"It's strange. For the first time, I want my house to lose a match. Just to have Malfoy humiliated after flaunting his family's wealth," Merula says before there was a peck on the window.

Both girls look to the small window before Merula walks over and tries to peek outside, but it was covered in soap scum and grime over the years and hardly any cleaning because of a certain ghost girl. However, she does open it and sees a certain owl there. "Autumn."

Autumn screeched at her and hopped inside and lands on her shoulder.

"What do you have to tell?" Merula asks, holding out her hand and Autumn holds up one of her legs, showing a wrapped scroll around her leg. Merula hums as she unwraps it and looks it over. "Will be late tonight. Don't wait up. Looks like Zarif won't be making this meeting,"

"We can tell him later. I can tell him what potion and what ingredients," Hermione sighs and closes her book.

"I think we should call it a night here," Merula says as Autumn closes her eyes and got comfortable on her shoulder.

"And I can take her back to Zarif's bedside," Hermione offers, packing away the book.

Autumn, hearing that, screeched at Hermione and puffed up.

"What she say?" Hermione asks confused as Merula scratches Autumn's head.

"Nothing. I think she just doesn't want to move," Merula says as Autumn settled back down.

Autumn screeches softly, moving her head around her scratching.

"I guess she will just stay with you then?" Hermione asks unsure.

"Guess so…" Merula says, still petting Autumn.