A/N: Hello everyone! Another chapter is complete! Enjoy!

Ron and Hermione just stared in awe at the old Occlumency textbook Harry had placed in the middle of their usual table at the back of the library.

He had told them everything about his meeting with Snape and the headmaster, and about what the two men thought the voice could mean.

And he had also told them about the Occlumency lessons, despite the fact that Snape had told him to keep that a secret. But Harry knew he couldn't keep all of this to himself. It was just too much to keep bottled up inside. He needed to tell somebody. Only now his two best friends were wearing nearly identical expressions of alarm at what they had just heard.

"So You-Know-Who is the reason you've been hearing that voice?" Ron asked, sounding genuinely terrified.

"I don't know. Snape just said it was a possibility," Harry answered, hoping he didn't sound nearly as anxious as he felt.

"And what do you think?" Hermione asked, frowning. "Do you feel any different?"

Harry just shook his head. "No. And it's a bit strange. My scar hasn't been hurting me at all like it did last year with Quirrell."

"Yeah, but last year, You-Know-Who was actually in the castle, right underneath Quirrell's turban," Ron pointed out. "Would your scar hurt even if he wasn't nearby?"

"I don't know," Harry shrugged, as he reached up to rub absently at his scar. "It just seems strange that I haven't felt anything."

Hermione changed the subject then by nodding towards the textbook. "That's really advanced magic, Harry. When are you going to start your lessons?"

"Tuesday," Harry answered, only just able to suppress a groan. "But I have to write an essay on the first chapter before then."

Ron just shook his head. "Blimey, it's not your fault You-Know-Who's messing with your head. Why does Snape have to punish you for it?"

"It isn't punishment, Ronald," Hermione sounded annoyed. "These lessons are going to be very difficult, and Harry needs to be prepared."

Harry just sighed then as he finally opened the book to chapter one. The pages were old and yellowed, and the words were small and difficult to read. "I suppose I should get started," he said then, unenthusiastically.

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione attempted to cheer him up. "Ron will keep you company. He still hasn't finished his History of Magic essay, yet."

"Well it would already be done if you would just let me look at your—" Ron began.

"No," Hermione stated firmly. "You can do your own work, Ronald Weasley. Maybe you'll actually learn something in the process."

"It's History of Magic, Hermione! We don't actually learn anything useful in that class!"

"What are you going to be up to?" Harry quickly cut into the conversation, directing the question at Hermione, who looked as though she had been about to bite out another retort.

Distracted, the girl turned towards Harry instead. "I've been trying to figure out more information about the Chamber of Secrets. I know it's an old school legend, but all the copies of Hogwarts, A History have been checked out, and I left my copy at home by mistake! And so far I haven't been able to find anything else on the subject in this entire library."

"Maybe you should ask your hero, Lockhart," Ron said with a smirk. "I'm sure he would know all about it. He's probably had to go there a few times to duel some trolls or vampires or something."

Harry had to cough to cover up a laugh.

"Very funny," Hermione stated, sounding completely unimpressed. "But I have a better idea."

"What?" Harry asked, curious.

"I think this calls for a bit of a historical perspective, don't you?"

Ron raised his eyebrows. "You're going to ask Binns?"

"Why not? He's the history professor, isn't he? He should know something about it."

"Yeah, but—"

"But what?" Hermione challenged.

"Well, he just doesn't seem like the kind of guy, I mean ghost, that likes to answer a lot of questions."

"That's completely ridiculous," Hermione scoffed. "How can he be expected to answer questions when nobody ever thinks to ask him any?"

Ron thought about that for a moment before finally giving a shrug. "I still say it's a lost cause."

"Well, we'll just see about that," Hermione said in answer, a determined look suddenly crossing her face.

And so it was on Monday afternoon that the second years emerged from the History of Magic classroom chattering excitedly for the very first time about what Professor Binns had discussed that day in class.

"Wow," Ron said, "I can't believe how completely insane Salazar Slytherin really was! You couldn't pay me to be in that house. If the sorting hat had tried to put me there, I would have gone straight home!"

Harry shifted his bag uncomfortably on his shoulder as he suddenly felt the knots forming in his stomach. After all, he himself had almost been placed in Slytherin. He had practically had to beg the sorting hat not to put him there.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked then, eying her friend with concern.

"Yeah," Harry answered quickly, shaking himself from his thoughts. "So do you think the story is true? Could there really be a Chamber of Secrets?"

"Binns didn't seem to think so," Ron pointed out. "But who knows? Slytherin's heir could be lurking around here somewhere."

And then the trio was suddenly rounding a corner onto the very same corridor where the attack had occurred.

The large red words were still there on the wall. Apparently, no matter how hard Filch had tried to scrub at it, the message simply refused to fade away.

Harry's eyes wandered over towards the torch bracket as he thought once again about Mrs. Norris.

"Do you think we could find any clues around here?" Ron was saying to Hermione.

"Don't you think the teachers would have already thought of that?" Hermione answered.

"Well, they may have missed something."

At those words, Harry looked away from the torch bracket and lowered his schoolbag to the floor. "I suppose it's worth a look," he said, dropping to his knees to get a better look at the floor. "There's a scorch mark here. And there's another one!"

But not even a moment later, there was a sudden shriek coming from the direction of the corridor the trio had just come from, and Harry quickly scrambled to his feet, rushing to peek around the corner, with Ron and Hermione close behind.

"That's not funny, Daphne!" Harry immediately recognized the voice of Pansy Parkinson.

"What did she do?" Millicent Bulstrode asked, as Daphne Greengrass burst into laughter.

"I was just practicing our latest spell from Charms class," Daphne stated innocently through her giggles, her wand still out at her side.

"She made it move!" Pansy cried.

"Made what move?" Millicent asked, confused.

"The snake!" Pansy answered, pointing to the Slytherin snake stitched to the front of her robes. "She knows I don't like snakes!"

The Slytherin girls began to move away then, Daphne still having trouble containing her laughter.

"It's not real, Pansy!" Millicent was trying to reassure her friend.

"It sure looked real out of the corner of my eye!" Pansy complained angrily, shooting a nasty glare at Daphne as the three girls rounded the corner at the other end of the corridor and disappeared from sight.

And almost immediately, Ron burst into laughter. "Imagine that. A Slytherin who's afraid of snakes! Too bad we can't set one on her!"

Harry was suddenly reminded of the time he had accidently set that boa constrictor on Dudley at the zoo. Uncle Vernon had been especially upset with him that day, and an involuntary shiver traveled down his spine at the memory of it.

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded.

"What? She tried to hurt Hedwig, didn't she?" Ron asked.

"We don't know that for sure," Hermione pointed out.

"Oh come on, Hermione. You have to admit that was funny," Ron said, turning away to once again look at the wall with the message. "I mean – AHHH!"

Harry whipped around, immediately pulled from his thoughts by the startled cry of his friend.

"What is it?"

And then he saw the spiders, moving in a perfect line up the wall and across a windowsill.

And Hermione let out a laugh, "Now that's funny," she said with a smirk.

Ron just glared at her, as Harry attempted to suppress his own smile.

"I didn't know you were afraid of spiders," Harry said then.

To that, Ron just grumbled something about Fred turning his teddy bear into a spider when he was younger, as Harry's eyes once more began roaming the floor.

"There was water on the floor that night," he stated. "Do you remember? I almost slipped in it."

"Yeah, it was over there," Ron answered, moving away from the spiders and towards a door in the middle of the corridor.

"That's Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," Hermione pointed out, and Ron quickly backed away in disgust.

And then suddenly, there was another voice in the corridor.

"RON!"

And Ron just groaned as he turned to face Percy Weasley.

"What do you think you're doing here?"

Ron held his quill in a death grip later that night in the common room, still fuming about his shouting match with Percy that had ended in lost points for Gryffindor and the promise of a letter home to Mrs. Weasley. His charms essay lay forgotten on the table.

But he wasn't the only one to be distracted. After a while, Hermione slammed her book shut, and sighed in frustration. "Who could it be though?" she asked, to nobody in particular.

"Who? The Heir of Slytherin?" Ron asked, finally setting his quill down. "I think we all know the answer to that one."

"Malfoy?" Harry asked, looking up from his nearly completed Occlumency essay.

"Of course! Who else could it be? He hates muggle-borns!"

"We would need evidence," Hermione stated seriously. "We'd have to get Malfoy to admit to it."

"But how are we going to do that?" Harry asked.

Hermione sighed again. "I have an idea."

Harry couldn't sleep.

He had tried to relax. He had tried to clear his mind, just like Snape had instructed him to. He had tried to recall the various breathing techniques from his Occlumency textbook. But he just couldn't stop thinking.

Could Malfoy really be the Heir of Slytherin?

And was he really willing to go through with Hermione's plan to brew this Polyjuice Potion to find out? What if something went wrong? What if they got caught?

Harry's stomach suddenly twisted into knots at the thought of what Snape would do. He'd never be allowed to make potions with the man again. And the potions master would surely despise him after such a stunt.

And then another thought struck him. What if he got expelled? And got sent back to the Dursleys?

To the family that had kicked him out and didn't want him back?

Harry turned on his side, trying to find a more comfortable position. But it was no use. He closed his eyes, but the thoughts continued to race around in his head.

It was several hours before he finally drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Harry stood nervously in front of Snape the following evening, watching as the man glanced quickly through the essay he had just handed in.

"I expect that this essay is up to the usual standard?" the potions master inquired, looking up for a moment to meet Harry's eyes.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, suddenly worried that his effort had not been good enough.

There was a brief pause then, before Snape finally set the essay aside on his desk.

"Very well, then, Mr. Potter. We may begin."

Snape walked around to the front of his desk, watching Harry carefully the entire time.

"Have you been practicing clearing your mind?" the man asked.

Harry bit his lip, but nodded. He didn't want to admit that he had failed miserably in his attempts to do so.

"We shall soon see how well you've mastered that skill," Snape said, withdrawing his wand from his robes.

Harry suddenly felt his heart rate speed up. "What are you going to do, sir?"

"In these lessons, I will attempt to enter your mind, Mr. Potter. It will be your job to push me out."

Harry's eyes suddenly widened in fear. "You're going to read my mind?"

There was a pause as Snape raised his eyebrows. "You read the textbook, did you not? What exactly were you expecting?"

Harry took a step back and shook his head. "I don't know. But I didn't think you would actually—"

"I assure you, Mr. Potter," the potions master said scathingly. "The deep dark secrets of a twelve-year old are of little concern to me."

Harry just took another step back as he tried to think of an excuse. Anything to get out of this situation.

With a sigh of impatience, Snape suddenly crossed his arms. "Alright, out with it, Potter."

"Sir?"

"You are obviously worried that I will see something you would rather keep hidden. So out with it. What scheme have you and your little friends concocted this time?"

Harry was suddenly reminded of the Polyjuice Potion, though that had certainly not been his main concern.

No, he was far more worried about all those memories from his time with the Dursleys. He couldn't let Snape see all that.

Harry finally just shook his head, his hand automatically moving towards the picture in his pocket. "Nothing bad, sir. Just stuff I'd rather keep to myself."

Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Remember your reading, Potter. What do you do to protect important memories?"

Harry thought back to the textbook and to the essay he had written. "Push them back into a corner of the mind. Lock them away," he finally answered.

"Precisely," Snape stated. "Construct a wall around those memories you want to protect, Potter. And make sure to clear your mind."

Harry frowned. How was he supposed to build a wall and clear his mind at the same time?

"Prepare yourself, Potter," Snape was suddenly saying. "Try to keep me out of your head."

In a near state of panic, Harry suddenly threw all of his energy into building that wall around the Dursleys. Because nothing else mattered. He couldn't let Snape see.

And suddenly, the man was raising his wand, just as Harry's grip tightened on his mother's picture.

And then the potions master finally uttered the spell.

"Legilimens!"

A/N: So any guesses as to what will happen next? Is this where Snape finally finds out about the Dursleys? Let me know what you think!

Thanks for reading!

-Ailee17