Diary of an Orphan (re-written)

by StrangeLittleWeirdo

Jenna grew up alone in an orphanage with no knowledge of who she was or where she came from. It wasn't until an owl arrived with a letter for her, and a man named Remus Lupin walked into her life, that she learnt she was so much more than she originally thought and her life would never be the same again.

11. Polyjuice and Parseltongue

Chapter 10

Polyjuice and Parseltongue

October arrived bringing with it a sudden wave of miserable weather. Large grey clouds replaced the bright blue sky of September and the warm sun was extinguished in favour of a colder one. A cold breeze rattled through the corridors and soon both students and staff felt the effects as a spat of colds began to spread around the castle. The Hospital Wing became a stop off point for almost everyone and so Madam Pomfrey was kept very busy as she prescribed a Pepperup Potion to all those who had to visit her. It was an effective little antidote to the sniffles but it did mean that you had the unfortunate side effect of smoking at the ears for several hours afterwards. For someone like Ginny, who was forced by Percy to go when he saw how pale she had been looking the past few days, it meant it looked her whole head was on fire when combined with her flame red hair.

Rain hammered the castle windows for days making it virtually impossible to go outside during break and so being permanently confined to the common room for so long started to get to people including me. I desperately needed some exercise having not been able to walk further than the distance between my classes for the last week and being cooped up inside when I had done all my homework meant that I was very bored. I had been planning to take my broom out for the first time once term was in full swing again but that plan had been scuppered by the sudden change in weather. I had to admit though, if it was between not doing anything and keeping dry, and going out on my broom in this weather and getting soaked like Harry and the Gryffindor Quidditch team were currently doing, I knew which one I'd choose.

Despite the bad weather, Wood had not been discouraged from dragging the team out every weekend for practice. On more than one occasion I had seen the team through the windows battling the wind and the rain as they went through Wood's strategies and tactics before sloping back into the castle soaking wet and trailing mud all over the place, much to Filch's chagrin. You could hear him shouting about it from all the way down the other end of the corridor. If there was one thing Filch didn't like, it was extra mess caused by the students that he'd then have to spend hours clearing up while he muttered about hanging up the culprits with chains in the dungeons as punishments.

It was at times like these I was very thankful for the warmth of the Gryffindor Tower. A contrast against the blackening skies outside, the bright common room was certainly a more pleasant place to be when the weather was this bad. There was a cheerful atmosphere about the place as the students worked on their various pieces of homework, the fire burning in the fireplace keeping us contently warm. I looked away from my homework and out at the rain hammering the window. Even Wood couldn't be mad enough to practice in this weather. It appeared so as not a few minutes later in walked six very soaked students. Fred and George, who normally were never seen without a grin on their face, looked positively miserable as they traipsed upstairs to get dry.

Harry returned a short while after the rest of the team. He explained to us that he'd been caught dripping mud about the castle by Filch and had only narrowly avoided getting detention thanks to Peeves's timely disruption before going upstairs to the boys' dormitory to get changed. He came back down in a fresh set of clothes having dried off. I couldn't help but snigger though when I saw the state of his hair.

'What is it with you and your hair?' I laughed upon seeing it. 'In all the years I've known you, I don't think your hair has ever looked neat. What do you do to it?'

'Nothing,' said Harry. He took the vacant seat next to Ron. 'You know it's always been like this. It's not my fault.'

'Ah, what is more attractive than the "just come through a bush backwards" look,' I said sarcastically. Harry sent me a look.

'Putting that aside,' he said, 'I've got something to tell you. When I was talking to Nearly Headless Nick before Filch caught me, he told me about how his application to join the Headless Hunt had been denied because he didn't fulfil their requirements.'

'Well he does still have his head for a start,' said Ron, glad to have a reason to abandon his Potions essay.

'Anyway, Nick was the one who got Peeves to smash that large cabinet over Filch's office that got me out of detention,' continued Harry, 'so in return I said we'd go to his Deathday Party and try and talk him up to the leader of the Headless Hunt, tell him how scary we find Nick and such.'

'But we don't find him scary,' I said.

'A Deathday Party?' said Hermione keenly. 'I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those – it'll be fascinating!'

'Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?' said Ron. 'Sounds dead depressing to me …'

'No pun intended,' I added.

'So d'you think we should go?' asked Harry. Across the common room a series of loud bangs and sparks sounded from a Salamander Fred and George were feeding Filibuster Fireworks to. I glanced at it, doubting their story that they had "rescued" it from their Care of Magical Class. 'It'd be rude of us not to.'

'I think we should,' said Hermione.

Ron and I looked at each other thinking the same thing. With Hermione's enthusiasm and Harry saying we'd go in the first place, we kind of had no choice in the matter, did we?

Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party was to be on Hallowe'en which meant, for the second year running, I had to miss the Hallowe'en feast. When we passed the Great Hall on our way down to the dungeons I saw it had been spectacularly decorated with the pumpkins Hagrid had been growing and there was mountains of food piled on each of the tables that the students were happily tucking into. I felt my stomach rumble, knowing there wouldn't be any food fit for human consumption at Nick's party. Even Harry seemed to be regretting his rash decision in telling Nick that we'd go but, as Hermione reminded us, a promise was a promise and so we had no choice.

We climbed down the stairs into the dungeons and took the right-hand passage instead of the one we normally took on our way to our Potions class. It was illuminated by dozens of long thin black candles that burned with an eerie blue flame that did nothing to help liven the atmosphere in the dark corridor. It got steadily colder the nearer we got to the dungeon where the party was being held and there was an odd scraping sound echoing off the stone walls that sounded like fingernails being dragged over a chalkboard. It sent shivers down my spine and I could feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

'Is that supposed to be music?' asked Ron in a whisper. If it was, I didn't really want to see what the band playing it looked like.

We turned the corner into a large chamber with three doors leading to separate dungeons along the walls. Nearly Headless Nick floated in front of one of them which had a large pair of black velvet drapes hung over the doorway. He beamed when he saw us walk over to him.

'My dear friends,' he said mournfully, 'welcome, welcome … so pleased you could come …'

I had the feeling the tone of this party was certainly not going to be like one I'd ever been to before if even the host sounded disappointed by the occasion.

Nick doffed his large plumed hat and bowed us into the dungeon. The four of us walked inside to be greeted by what I guess was quite a sight to see. What looked like at least a hundred ghosts were gathered inside the dungeon as they chatted in small groups or danced to the rather dreadful sounding waltz that was coming from a small orchestra set up on a platform at the opposite end of the dungeon to us. Along the wall was a long table that had been piled high with various dishes that a handful of ghosts were admiring and sampling to my surprise. Above us floated more candles, this time set into a large chandelier that cast a strange midnight blue colour over the ceiling. The cold feeling I had had out in the corridor suddenly doubled and I could see my breath rising in front of me because of it.

'Shall we look around?' suggested Harry. I could hear his teeth chatter ever so slightly.

'Careful not to walk through anyone,' added Ron.

We edged our way around the sides of the dance-floor carefully trying to avoid contact with any of the ghosts surrounding us. It looked like all the Hogwarts ghosts were there: the Fat Friar of Hufflepuff was cheerfully talking to a knight who had an arrow sticking out his forehead; the Bloody Baron, the Slytherin House ghost who sported silvery stains on his tunic, was being given a wide birth not just by us but by the other ghosts as well; and the Grey Lady, the ghost of Ravenclaw, was talking to an equally gloomily group of nuns.

Some party this is, I thought to myself.

'Jenna,' hissed Hermione suddenly, grabbing my arm. 'Look!'

I followed the direction Hermione was pointing. I swallowed when I saw who was floating in front of us. Moaning Myrtle was a female ghost who haunted the girls' bathroom on the first floor in the Transfiguration Courtyard making it impossible to go to the toilet in there in peace. She was forever crying inside one of the cubicles about one thing or another, hence her name "Moaning" Myrtle, and if you tried to comfort her nine times out of ten you normally made the situation worse. Unlike the other ghosts, Myrtle wasn't dressed in some period clothing but curiously she wore Hogwarts robes which I took to mean she must have died in them as ghosts normally come back in the clothes they died in. A part of me was curious to ask her what had happened which meant she had died in her school uniform, however, knowing it would probably just make her scream and start crying again I never bothered to ask the few times I'd run into her.

'Oh no,' said Hermione. She dragged me back in the opposite direction. Harry and Ron followed. 'Turn back, turn back, I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle –'

'Who?' asked Harry.

'She haunts the girls' toilet on the first floor,' said Hermione.

'She haunts a toilet?' repeated Ron.

'Yes. It's been out of order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. I never went in there anyway if I could avoid it, it's awful trying to go to the loo with her wailing at you –'

'Look, food!'

I had wondered how long it would take Ron to noticed the food that was on the table opposite us. Placed on large silver platters on a black velvet tablecloth, several dishes had been prepared and were available to the guests of the party. To Ron's horror, however, none of the food was suitable for human consumption. I wrinkled my nose in disgust when I caught the smell of the large rotting fish that looked like it was growing its own special type of mould. If I'd had any appetite before the party I certainly didn't now. In pride of place in the centre of the display was what looked like a large three-tiered cake with dull grey icing covering what was probably a very stale cake on the inside, a black thick writing icing on the top tier forming the words,

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington
died 31st October, 1492

'I think I'm going to be sick,' I muttered. Harry and Ron seemed to nod in agreement.

Next to us, a portly ghost approached the table, bent down and walked through it with his mouth wide open.

'Can you taste it if you walk through it?' Harry asked him.

'Almost,' said the ghost sadly, and he floated away. I cringed.

'I expect they've let it rot to give it a stronger flavour,' said Hermione. She was inspecting the rotten haggis.

'Can we move?' asked Ron. 'If Jenna doesn't throw up, I certainly will.'

No sooner had we turned around were we accosted by yet another ghost, or should I say poltergeist. Peeves suddenly popped up from nowhere and floated in front of us, a mad look on his face. Garishly colourful in comparison to his contemporaries, Peeves stuck out like a – well, like a poltergeist in a roomful of ghosts. The orange party hat was certainly eye-grabbing.

'Hello, Peeves,' said Harry cautiously.

'Nibbles?' he said, offering us a plate of peanuts. They had mould all over them.

'No thanks,' said Hermione.

'Heard you talking about poor Myrtle,' Peeves continued, throwing the plate over his head. 'Rude you was about poor Myrtle.' He then took a deep breath and, 'OY! MYRTLE!'

'Oh no, Peeves, don't tell her what I said, she'll be really upset,' whispered Hermione. 'I didn't mean it, I don't mind her – er, hello, Myrtle.'

I swallowed as the squat ghost floated over to us. Her face seemed to be set in a permanent gloomy expression, her sad eyes hidden behind her thick and lank fringe and square glasses.

'What?' she snapped at us.

'How are you, Myrtle?' said Hermione. 'It's nice to see you out of the toilet.'

'Yeah,' I added. 'You're looking particularly … translucent today.'

Well how would you compliment a ghost? Myrtle let out a large sniff.

'Miss Granger was just talking about you –' said Peeves in Myrtle's ear.

'Just saying – saying – how nice you look tonight,' said Hermione.

Myrtle's eyes narrowed.

'You're making fun of me,' she said. I could see the tears starting in her eyes; she was going to start crying any moment, I knew it.

'No – honestly – didn't I just say how nice Myrtle's looking?' said Hermione, nudging Harry and Ron in the ribs.

'Oh, yeah …'

'She did …'

'Don't lie to me,' snapped Myrtle. 'D'you think I don't know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!'

'You've missed out "spotty",' added Peeves.

That did it. Myrtle let out an ear-piercing scream, tears flowing down her cheeks, and fled the dungeon. Peeves followed, pelting her with the rotten peanuts before vanishing through the wall as well. I'd just about had enough of this depressing party and was about to suggest we leave when Nearly Headless Nick appeared by our sides looking very pleased with how his Deathday was going.

'Enjoying yourselves?'

'Oh, yes,' we lied.

'Not a bad turnout,' said Nick, looking around the dungeon. 'The Wailing Widow came all the way up from Kent … It's nearly time for my speech, I'd better go and warn the orchestra …' But before Nick had even turned away, they had already stopped playing. In the silence a loud hunting horn was blown. Nick rolled his eyes, sighing. 'Oh, here we go.'

A dozen or so ghost horses burst through the wall each carrying its own headless ghost rider. They galloped a loop around the dungeon before gathering together in the space the other ghosts had made for them. A round of applause greeted them as their horses reared and stomped their hooves on the stone floor. From the centre of the group a single headless rider came forwards into the middle of the dance-floor, his hand raised for silence as his horse reared for the second time. Under his arm he carried his own bearded head and in his other was the horn that had sounded. He must have been the leader, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore I think Nick had said his name was. The new guest trotted over to where Nick was floating beside us, placing his head back on to his shoulders.

'Nick!' he roared jovially. 'How are you? Head still hanging in there?' He laughed at his joke and clapped Nick on the shoulder.

'Welcome, Patrick,' replied Nick very stiffly.

'Live 'uns!' gasped Patrick next when he saw the four of us beside him. His head fell back off his shoulders much to the crowd's delight. Nick didn't seem as impressed.

'Very amusing.'

'Don't mind Nick!' laughed Sir Patrick's head. It was lying at his horse's feet. 'Still upset we won't let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say – look at the fellow –'

'I think,' said Harry suddenly, as if he'd remembered something, 'Nick's very – frightening and – er –'

'Ha!' yelled Sir Patrick's head. 'Bet he asked you to say that!'

'If I could have everyone's attention,' interrupted Nick, shouting over him to the crowd, 'it's time for my speech!

Nick quickly strode over to the platform and stood in the spotlight.

'My late lamented lords, ladies and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow …'

Nick's speech was cut off before he had even started. Sir Patrick had chucked his head into the crowd and a game of Head Hockey was now taking place on the dance-floor, the crowd cheering as they smacked Sir Patrick's head about with ghost-like hockey sticks. Taking that as our cue to leave Harry, Ron, Hermione and I backed away from the crowd and slipped out back through the black velvet drapes into the dungeon corridor. We sped quickly back up the corridor away from the cold dungeon, only now noticing how cold the four of us were, and back up towards the warmer atmosphere of the Great Hall. If we were lucky there might still be some pudding left for us to eat although my appetite still seemed to be absent.

… rip … tear … kill …

I skidded to a halt when I heard that voice again. I looked around the corridor but it was empty apart from the four of us. Harry had stopped too. He had his ear pressed to the wall as if he was listening for something, his eyes scanning the corridor like I had been. Ron and Hermione turned round when they realised we had stopped.

'Harry, what're you –?'

'It's that voice again – shut up a minute –'

I stared at Harry. He could hear it too?

… soo hungry … for so long …

'Listen!' said Harry urgently. Ron and Hermione stared at him as confused as I was but probably for very different reasons.

… kill … time to kill …

The voice was growing fainter. Whatever it was was moving.

'This way,' shouted Harry and he ran off.

Ron, Hermione and I followed Harry as he ran up the staircase back to the Entrance Hall. He didn't stop though, instead running up the Marble Staircase and towards the first floor. We ran after Harry down the corridor that led towards the door to the Transfiguration Courtyard not knowing where he, and in my case the voice as well, was going.

'Harry, what are we –' began Hermione but Harry cut over her.

'SHH!'

He had his ear pressed to the wall again, listening for the voice. It was a few moments before it spoke again.

... I smell blood … I SMELL BLOOD!

'It's going to kill someone,' shouted Harry.

Harry darted round the corner and up another flight of stairs that led to the second floor. We ran through one empty corridor after another but there was nothing there. They were all completely empty of people. Harry finally came to a stop in the last corridor before the Changing Staircase again. Ron, Hermione and I came to a stop, each of us panting beside him.

'Harry, what was that all about?' asked Ron.

My attention, however, was elsewhere. I had felt something wet on my shoe and had looked down to see we were standing in a puddle of water. In fact the whole corridor had been flooded, a large puddle sitting at the foot of the corridor wall. I blinked. There was something reflecting in the water. I narrowed my eyes as I stared at it, taking a step closer to get a better look. It looked like writing of some sort. My eyes followed up the wall to see a collection of large red letters had been painted on to it between the two windows that were shimmering ever so slightly in the lamplight. I swallowed when I saw they were still dripping meaning they had only just been written but it didn't look like paint. Beside me, Hermione had also noticed, letting out a small scream.

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

'"Enemies of the Heir, beware",' I read nervously. 'That's not paint. It's written in blood.'

'What's that thing – hanging underneath?' said Ron, his voice also shaking.

I gasped when I saw what Ron had seen. There, hanging by her tail to a torch bracket and frozen in position, was Mrs Norris. Her eyes were wide open as was her mouth, I'm guessing from her hissing at whatever had attacked her. She didn't move, her entire body stiff as a board. We stood there in silence, the four of us horrified at what was in front of us, before Ron finally spoke.

'Let's get out of here.'

'Shouldn't we try and help –' began Harry.

'Trust me,' said Ron. 'We don't want to be found here.'

No sooner had we turned to leave did we hear a low rumble rising up from below us. It sounded like the students had finished dinner and were all leaving the Great Hall to go back to their common rooms as we heard hundreds of feet climbing the stairs. Voices filled out ears as we tried to think how to get out of here before they found us but moments later the corridor we were in was being filled from both sides. I stared around at all the students surrounding us as one by one they noticed the scene in front of them, poking and nudging their friends next to them until everyone was staring at us in a horrible silence.

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

Malfoy had pushed his way to the front of the crowd to see what was going on. There was a glint of joy visible in his eye when he saw the four of us standing near the frozen form of Mrs Norris.

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

If there was any way for the situation to get worse, this was it. Filch came pushing his way through the crowd having no doubt been attracted here by Malfoy's shout. His scowling eyes took in the sight in front of him, widening when he saw Mrs Norris hanging from the torch bracket. He let out a strangled yelp, clutching his face in horror.

'My cat!' he yelled. 'My cat! What's happened to Mrs Norris?' I watched as his eyes fell on us, more specifically on Harry. 'You!' he screeched, pointing at us. 'You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll –'

'Argus!'

The crowd parted to allow Professor Dumbledore through, several of the other teachers following behind him. His eyes surveyed the situation and in seconds he had swept past us and detached Mrs Norris from the torch bracket.

'Everyone will proceed to their common rooms immediately,' said Dumbledore loudly to the crowd. Hoping that was the end of it, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I turned to leave. 'Everyone except you four,' Dumbledore added, looking at us. 'Come with me, Argus,' he then said to Filch. 'You too, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, Miss Black.'

'My office is nearest, Headmaster,' said Lockhart, a bit eagerly. 'Just upstairs – please feel free –'

'Thank you, Gilderoy,' said Dumbledore.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I looked at each other worriedly then followed after Professor Dumbledore and Lockhart, Professor McGonagall and Snape all following the Headmaster. Lockhart swept ahead up the stairs and opened the door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and proceeded to his office, lighting the candles in there while Professor Dumbledore lay the frozen Mrs Norris on his desk. The sudden commotion seemed to have woken his portraits who were all hurrying out of view with rollers in their hair. I rolled my eyes; even his portraits were as vain as he was. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I nervously took some seats to the side of where the teachers were gathered round the desk as we waited to find out what had happened. Professor Dumbledore leant over Mrs Norris's frozen form, his long fingers gently touching her as he examined her.

'It was definitely a curse that killed her –' said Lockhart, who was dancing around them uselessly, 'probably the Transmogrifian Torture. I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very counter-curse that would have saved her …'

Gasbag, I thought silently.

Filch sat sobbing in a chair by the desk, his jowls quivering and his head in his hands unable to look at his pet. A part of me felt a rush of sympathy for him. Mrs Norris may be a horrible creature but she was still his pet. Dumbledore now had his wand out and was gently tapping Mrs Norris while he muttered various things under his breath. After a few more minutes' silence, apart from Lockhart's "helpful" suggestions, Dumbledore straightened up.

'She's not dead, Argus,' said Dumbledore. Lockhart stopped, midway through counting the number of murders he'd stopped, surprised by this news.

'Not dead?' choked Filch. 'But why's she all – all stiff and frozen?'

'She's has been Petrified,' said Dumbledore.

'Ah! I thought so!' gasped Lockhart.

'But how, I cannot say …' finished Dumbledore as if Lockhart wasn't there.

'Ask him!' shrieked Filch. He pointed a veiny hand at 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!' spat Filch. 'You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found – in my office – he knows I'm a – I'm a – He knows I'm a Squib!'

I looked at Filch confused. What had his being a Squib – whatever one of those was – got to do with Harry and Mrs Norris being Petrified?

'I never touched Mrs Norris!' said Harry loudly. '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, stepping out of the shadows. I held in a groan. This couldn't be good. 'Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.' My mouth fell open. Despite the sneer that had been on his lips as he said it, Snape was defending us? 'But,' Snape continued, 'we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why were they in the upstairs corridor at all? Why weren't they at the Hallowe'en feast?'

'We were down in the dungeons,' said Hermione immediately. 'We had been invited to Sir Nicolas's Deathday party.'

'We had gone down to it just as dinner was starting in the Hall,' I said.

'Nick had invited us to it weeks ago,' added Harry.

'There were hundreds of ghosts,' said Ron, 'they'll tell you we were there –'

'But why not join the feast afterwards?' persisted Snape. His black eyes glinted at us. 'Why go up to that corridor?'

Ron, Hermione and I all looked at Harry. What do we say? That Harry was following a voice that only he and I could hear?

'Because – because –' stammered Harry, 'because we were tired and wanted to go to bed.'

'Without any supper?' said Snape, smiling. 'I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties.'

'We weren't hungry,' said Ron just as his stomach let out a low rumble.

'We'd lost our appetite,' I added. 'The smell kind of put us off.'

Snape's smile widened.

'I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful,' he said. '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,' said Professor McGonagall 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 looked at the four of us, observing us through his half-moon spectacles.

'Innocent until proven guilty, Severus,' he said eventually.

Snape looked furious. Filch was beside himself with rage.

'My cat has been Petrified!' he shouted. 'I want to see some punishment!'

'We will be able to cure her, Argus,' said Dumbledore. 'Madam 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,' said Lockhart quickly. 'I must have done it a hundred times, I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draft in my sleep –'

'Excuse me,' said Snape icily, 'but I believe I am the Potions Master at this school.'

There was an awkward silence. Dumbledore turned to us in the corner.

'You may go.'

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I hastily left Lockhart's office and walked out of the Defence Against the Dart Arts classroom. We walked as quick as we could without running down the Tower staircase and on to the third floor corridor, not stopping again until we were on the Changing Staircase where we diverted into an empty classroom on the fourth floor. Harry checked that we were alone then closed door behind us. I took a seat on a desk as I waited for him to say whatever he had to say to explain what had happened this evening.

'D'you think I should've told them about that voice I heard?' he asked us eventually.

Before I could say that he hadn't been the only one to hear that voice, Ron said, 'No. Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world.'

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

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

'When is anything that happens to us not weird?' I asked. Ron sent me a look.

'I know it's weird,' said Harry. '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,' said Ron. 'I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once … might've been Bill …'

'But what does it mean?' I asked. Ron shrugged.

'And what on earth's a Squib?'

To our surprise, Ron laughed.

'Well – it's not funny really – but as it's Filch …' he chuckled. 'A Squib is someone who was born into a wizarding family but hasn't got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of Muggle-born wizards, but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch's trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much. He's bitter.'

In the distance we heard the sound of the Clock Tower bell ringing. Somehow it was midnight.

'We'd better get to bed before Snape comes along to frame us for something else,' said Harry. 'Let's get back to the Tower.'

After the events of last year, I had learnt that nothing could happen at Hogwarts without the entire school talking about it for the following days and the attack on Mrs Norris was no different. The fact that Filch could be seen keeping guard at the site of the attack, pacing angrily up and down the corridor scaring away anyone who dared to come down it, didn't help things. The letters on the wall remained as fresh as the day they had been written and no amount of scrubbing on Filch's part was going to make them disappear. If he wasn't there he was skulking around the school as usual trying to give students detention for something as small as walking the wrong way or looking happy.

The attack seemed to have quite an effect on a lot of the students. There were continuous whispers around the corridors and at mealtimes, each time becoming more pronounced if Harry was nearby. It seemed an odd thing to notice, but with the implied threat made against the Muggle-borns thanks to Malfoy's shout that night, it seemed a lot more obvious to me who the Muggle-borns in the school were. I'd see the same scared looks on their faces whenever Harry walked by them as if they actually believed he had been responsible for the attack despite Dumbledore clearing him. But it wasn't just the Muggle-borns who were freaked out. Ginny, who Ron told us was a cat-lover, had been very disturbed by the attack and it took a lot of reassuring her that this sort of thing didn't normally happen at Hogwarts before she began to feel a little bit better. Ron's joke about Filch being Petrified though I think was one step to far.

While it wasn't unusual to find Hermione with her head buried into one book or another, the week following the attack on Mrs Norris had her doing nothing but that. It wasn't until after our Potions class the following Wednesday afternoon when we had gone to the Library to work on our homework that Hermione finally revealed what she had been up to. Harry, having been held back after class by Snape, joined Ron and me at our table in the corner of the Library which had our History of Magic essays spread over them while Hermione had disappeared off into a section on the opposite side of the room. She returned shortly after Harry arrived, an irritated look on her face.

'All the copies of Hogwarts: A History have been taken out,' she huffed. She sat back down in her seat next to me. 'And there's a two-week waiting list. I wish I hadn't left my copy at home, but I couldn't fit it in my trunk with all the Lockhart books.'

'Why do you want it?' asked Harry.

'The same reason everyone else wants it,' said Hermione, 'to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets.'

'Well if it gets students reading history,' I muttered. Hermione sent me a disapproving look. 'What? Just saying.'

'What's the legend?' asked Harry before Hermione could reprimand me for my innocent quip.

'That's just it, I can't remember,' said Hermione. 'And I can't find the story anywhere else –'

'Hermione, let me read you composition,' said Ron. He reached across the table for Hermione's essay but she snatched it away from him.

'No, I won't,' snapped Hermione. 'You've had ten days to finish it.'

'I only need another two inches, go on …'

The bell rang. I gathered up my essay on The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards and sealed it before Ron could get his hands on it. Ron and Hermione proceeded to bicker the entire way to History of Magic. When we reached the classroom we took our usual seats in the left hand row of desks and waited for Professor Binns to enter through the blackboard like he usually did. It was about the only exciting thing that ever happened in lessons. A ghost of habit, he did so a few minutes after we entered before starting his dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289. His tone was low and flat and sounded somewhat like an old vacuum cleaner making it very hard to not fall asleep in the hour-long lesson. Still, I sat with my head rested on my hand as I copied down any relevant dates and points I could pick up on amongst all the information he was telling us.

About half an hour in, as I dipped my quill in my inkwell to refill it, I noticed Hermione beside me had her hand up. I gave her a startled look; no one had ever put their hand up in History of Magic. Professor Binns, deeply involved in the description of the signing of some document at the Convention, stopped mid-sentence when he too noticed Hermione's hand in the air.

'Miss – er –?'

'Granger, Professor,' said Hermione. 'I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets.'

All of a sudden the class was awake and listening, which was unheard of for one of Professor Binns' lessons. Dean, who'd been staring out the window, snapped back round to face the front; Lavender's head came up off her arms on her desk while Parvati beside her stopped doodling on her parchment; and Neville's elbow slipped off the desk waking him up from his stupor. Professor Binns blinked.

'My subject is History of Magic,' said Professor Binns. 'I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends.' He cleared his throat and turned away. 'In September of that year, a sub-committee of Sardinian sorcerers – Miss Grant?'

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

'Well,' said Professor Binns, looking slightly perturbed by the fact he'd been interrupted twice now, 'yes, one can argue that, I suppose. However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale …'

I glanced around the classroom; everyone was hanging on to his every word. Even Professor Binns seemed thrown by this reaction from his students.

'Oh, very well,' he said slowly. 'Let me see … the Chamber of Secrets …

'You all know, of course,' he continued, '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.'

Professor Binns paused, looked round the room, then 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.

'Reliable historical sources tell us this much,' he said, 'but these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of he 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.'

A silence followed. I frowned as I thought through what Professor Binns had said about the Chamber of Secrets; a horror within a hidden chamber with the sole purpose to rid the school of those unworthy in his eyes to study magic. It was the most extreme case of prejudice I'd ever heard. Nevertheless the entire class was rapt with attention at Professor Binns' story much it appeared to his frustration.

'The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course,' he said irritably. '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 shot 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. 'I tell you, the thing does not exist,' he then snapped. He shuffled the notes on his desk. 'There is no Chamber and no monster.'

'But, sir,' said Seamus, '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. 'If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found the thing –'

'But, Professor,' began Parvati, '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 –' started Dean 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!'

With that, I put my head back on my hand as Professor Binns returned to his previous lecture on the Sardinian sorcerers.

'I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony.'

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I made our way through the crowds in the corridors walking towards the Great Hall for dinner. History of Magic had finished after another painful twenty minutes of Professor Binns' dreadful lecture. The four of us had gathered our things and escaped as quickly as we could so we could discuss what Professor Binns had told us regarding the Chamber of Secrets. If we had learnt anything last year, it was not to take legends and myths so lightly. We walked against the flow of students heading towards the Great Hall to go and drop our bags off in the Gryffindor Tower.

'But I never knew he started all this pure-blood stuff,' said Ron. 'I wouldn't be in his House if you paid me. Honestly, if the Sorting Hat had tried to put me in Slytherin, I'd've got the train straight back home.'

'It's not really surprising if you think about it,' I reasoned. 'I mean, look at most of the pure-blood families that are at Hogwarts now. I can think of at least three names that you wouldn't catch sitting with the Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs.'

'Hiya, Harry!' I glanced round at the sound of Colin Creevey's voice. 'Harry – Harry – a boy in my class has been saying you're –' Before he could get out whatever the boy in his class had been saying, Colin was swept away by the older larger students walking past him. 'See you, Harry!' I rolled my eyes.

'What's a boy in his class saying about you?' repeated Hermione.

'That I'm Slytherin's Heir, I expect,' said Harry.

'People here'll believe anything,' snorted Ron.

'That's the problem,' I said, 'they will believe anything even if what they hear isn't true.'

'D'you really think there's a Chamber of Secrets?' Ron then asked.

'I don't know,' said Hermione, frowning. 'Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be – well – human.' I looked at Hermione curiously.

'You mean it could be something else?' I asked.

'Theoretically,' shrugged Hermione.

I thought back to our History of Magic class, 'Professor Binns did say it was a monster that was kept in the chamber. I guess it could be anything.'

The stairs were getting emptier making it easier to get through. We climbed down the stairs and walked round the corner into the next corridor only to find ourselves back in the one where the first attack had happened. We came to a stop. I looked around the corridor. It looked very creepy now, the blood words still written on the wall but this time without Mrs Norris hanging by her tail in a torch bracket between them. Instead there was an empty chair sitting beneath the words where Filch would sit whenever he was keeping watch.

'Can't hurt to poke around,' shrugged Harry.

I watched as Harry put down his bag, got to his knees and began crawling around.

'Scorch marks!' he said, pointing at the floor. 'Here – and here –'

'Come and look at this!' said Hermione. 'This is funny …'

I walked over to where Hermione was standing by the window. I followed her point. My eyes fell upon a line of at least twenty spiders crawling up the topmost windowpane all trying to get out through a tiny crack in the glass. On the other side I could just see a long silvery thread they were using to get back down.

'Have you ever seen spiders act like that?' said Hermione. I shook my head.

'No,' said Harry, 'have you, Ron? Ron?'

I glanced round to see Ron was standing on the opposite side of the corridor.

'What's up?' said Harry.

'I – don't – like – spiders,' said Ron tensely.

'I never knew that,' said Hermione. 'You've used spiders in potions loads of times …'

'I don't mind them dead,' said Ron. 'I just don't like the way they move. It's not funny,' he snapped when Hermione giggled. 'If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my – my teddy bear into a dirty great spider because I broke his toy broomstick. You wouldn't like them either if you'd been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and …'

'Remember all that water on the floor?' Harry then said, changing the subject. 'Where did that come from? Someone's mopped it up.'

'It was about here,' said Ron. 'Level with this door.'

Ron stopped.

'What's the matter?' asked Harry.

'Can't go in there,' said Ron, 'that's a girls' toilet.'

'Oh, Ron, there won't be anyone in there,' said Hermione. 'That's Moaning Myrtle's place. Come on, let's have a look.'

'I thought it was in the Transfiguration Courtyard,' I said to myself, confused. Could the rooms in the castle move and change? I wouldn't put it past them.

Hermione pushed open the door to Myrtle's bathroom and we went inside. The bathroom was dank and had fallen into disrepair from all of Myrtle's tantrums. The place was filthy having not been cleaned for so long with the mirrors covered in dirt and the toilet cubicle doors falling off their hinges. The candles in the brackets had almost completely burnt through having not been replaced for years. Hermione placed her finger to her lips and nodded us to follow her. She walked over to the end most cubicle and pushed open the door.

'Hello, Myrtle, how are you?' she said.

Harry, Ron and I crowded round the door as Myrtle looked up at us from her spot on the cistern.

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

'Well spotted,' I muttered.

'No,' said Hermione over me, sending me a look. 'I just wanted to show them how – er – nice it is in here.'

'Ask her if she saw anything,' whispered Harry.

'What are you whispering?' said Myrtle suspiciously. She must have heard him.

'Nothing,' said Harry quickly. 'We wanted to ask –'

'Here we go,' I breathed.

'I wish people would stop talking behind my back!' snapped Myrtle. She shot off her toilet and flew straight up to her. 'I do have feelings, you know, even if I am dead.'

'Myrtle, no one wants to upset you,' said Hermione. 'Harry only –'

'No one wants to upset me!' shrieked Myrtle. 'That's a good one! My life was nothing but misery in this place and now people come along ruining my death!'

'That is the last thing we want to do,' I said. 'We really don't want to ruin your afterlife.'

'We wanted to ask you if you'd seen anything funny lately,' said Hermione quickly. It was always better to cut Myrtle off before she got into full stride of her wailing. 'Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door on Hallowe'en.'

'Did you see anyone near here that night?' asked Harry.

'I wasn't paying attention,' snapped Myrtle. 'Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I'm – that I'm –'

'Already dead,' suggested Ron. Hermione and I both sent him a look.

Myrtle let out a loud sob at Ron's comment before diving headfirst into the toilet behind her. The water sprayed out of the open lid all over us. We could just hear her sobs coming from inside somewhere near the U-bend. I sighed and turned to leave, Hermione commenting how that was almost cheerful for her standards. The sad fact was that was true.

'RON!'

The four of us jumped when we heard the sound of Percy's voice shouting at us as we shut the bathroom door behind us. He stared at us with a look of horror on his face.

''That's a girls' bathroom,' said Percy, aghast. He almost sounded like his mother. 'What were you –?'

'Just having a look around,' shrugged Ron. 'Clues, you know …'

'Get – away – from – there –' Percy came striding up to us and began shooing us away from the door, flapping his arms at us. 'Don't you care what this looks like? Coming back here while everyone's at dinner …'

'Why shouldn't we be here?' said Ron tersely. His ears were beginning to go red. 'Listen, we never laid a finger on that cat!'

'That's what I told Ginny,' snapped Percy, 'but she still seems to think you're going to be expelled; I've never seen her so upset, crying her eyes out. You might think of her, all the first-years are thoroughly over-excited by this business –'

'You don't care about Ginny,' said Ron. 'You're just worried I'm going to mess up your chances of being Head Boy!'

'Five points from Gryffindor!' shouted Percy. He jabbed at his Prefect badge. 'And I hope it teaches you a lesson! No more detective work, or I'll write to Mum!'

We kept away from Percy for the rest of night when we got back to the common room after dinner. We took refuge in our favourite seats in the corner and I dug out the day's homework from my bag to get started on it. Ron was still in a mood from our earlier confrontation with Percy, his Charms essay being on the receiving end of it when he accidentally set it alight when he was trying to remove the inkblots from it. In a fit of rage he slammed his copy of The Standard Books of Spells, Grade 2 shut, knocking over his inkwell and spraying my homework with ink as well. I grabbed my essay just in time before it was completely ruined. Beside me Hermione slammed her book shut too.

'What's got your wands in a knot?' I asked, shaking my essay free of any remaining wet ink. 'I don't think my essay can handle both of you being angry at the same time.'

'I'm just trying to work out who would have done such a thing,' said Hermione angrily. 'To have the power to Petrify something that even Dumbledore couldn't undo.'

'Well while you're trying to work it out, can you leave my essay out of it?' I retorted.

'Who can it be, though?' said Hermione, this time lowering her voice. 'Who'd want all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?'

'Let's think,' said Ron sarcastically. 'Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum?'

'If you're talking about Malfoy –' started Hermione, though she sounded unconvinced.

'Of course I am!' said Ron. 'You heard him: "You'll be next, Mudbloods!" Come on, you've only got to look at his foul rat face to know it's him –'

'I heard him. But Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?'

'Look at his family,' said Harry. He too seemed to have given up on his homework. 'The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin, he's always boasting about it. They could easily be Slytherin's descendents. His father's definitely evil enough.'

'Not everyone whose family's been in Slytherin are bad,' I said quietly to myself.

'They could've had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries!' said Ron. 'Handing it down, father to son …'

'Well,' said Hermione, 'I suppose it's possible …'

'Hang on, you guys,' I said. It always seemed to fall to me to be the realistic one in moments like these. 'He's not the only one whose family could have been in Slytherin for generations. There are several families in that House – Nott and Flint to name a few – who could just as easily be the Slytherin Heir as Malfoy could be. There's no evidence to point the wand at anyone.'

'Jenna's right,' agreed Harry. Well at least someone was on my side. 'There's no evidence he was responsible for the attack on Mrs Norris either so how do we prove it?'

I held in a groan. I had a very strong sense of déjà vu as we sat here discussing theory upon theory regarding the Chamber of Secrets and who its Heir could be, just like last year when we sat discussing the Philosopher's Stone.

'There might be a way,' said Hermione slowly. She took a nervous glance across at Percy; he was in discussion with a fellow sixth-year. 'Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We'd be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect.'

'When's that every stopped us before?' I asked.

'It's not something we should make a habit of,' retorted Hermione, frowning.

'If, in a month or so, you feel like explaining, you will let us know, won't you?' said Ron. Hermione glared at him.

'All right,' Hermione huffed. 'What we'd need to do is to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions without him realising it's us.'

'But that's impossible,' said Harry while Ron laughed.

'No, it's not,' corrected Hermione. 'All we'd need would be some Polyjuice Potion.'

'What's that?' asked Harry and Ron.

'Snape mentioned it in class a few weeks ago,' I said. Did the boys ever listen?

'D'you think we've got nothing better to do in Potions than listen to Snape?' muttered Ron.

I raised my eyebrow, looking straight at Ron, and said very flatly, 'No.'

'The Polyjuice Potion,' continued Hermione before Ron could retort, 'transforms you into somebody else. Think about it! We could change into four of the Slytherins. No one would know it was us. Malfoy would probably tell us anything. He's probably boasting about it in the Slytherin common room right now, if only we could hear him.'

'This Polyjuice stuff sounds a bit dodgy to me,' said Ron, frowning. 'What if we were stuck looking like four of the Slytherins forever?'

'It wears off after a while,' said Hermione impatiently, 'but getting hold of the recipe will be very difficult. Snape said it was in a book called Moste Potente Potions and it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the Library.'

'And we all know the only way to get a book from the Restricted Section is with a signed note from a teacher,' I said.

'Hard to see why we'd want the book, really,' said Ron, 'if we weren't going to try and make one of the potions.'

'I think,' said Hermione, 'that if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance …'

'Oh, come on,' said Ron sarcastically, 'no teacher's going to fall for that. They'd have to be really thick to sign a note for us.'

'I think we know someone who we could convince,' I said. I glanced at Hermione. She smiled. It looked like she was thinking the same thing as me. 'Who do we know would do anything for one of his adoring fans?'

The following day's Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson was harder to endure than normal but only because Harry, Ron, Hermione and I had to keep Lockhart in a good mood so we could ask him to sign our note to get Moste Potente Potions out of the Restricted Section of the Library. Today's re-enactment was taken from a passage in Wanderings with Werewolves where Lockhart had cornered and forced a werewolf back to its human form to save a village from its attack. As usual, Lockhart had got Harry to help him with the demonstration, using him this time to play the werewolf. As I sat and watched I could see Harry was trying his best to play along despite how humiliating it probably was.

'Nice loud, howl, Harry – exactly –' Lockhart instructed him as Harry crouched on his hands and knees at Lockhart's feet, 'and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced – like this – slammed him to the floor –' Lockhart slammed his elbow into Harry's shoulder's, forcing him down, 'thus – with one hand, I managed to hold him down – with my other, I put my wand to his throat – I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm – he let out a piteous moan – go on, Harry –' Harry gave a half-hearted howl, 'higher than that – good – the fur vanished – the fangs shrank – and he turned back into a man.'

Lockhart got up off of Harry and gave his wand a flourish.

'Simple, yet effective,' Lockhart beamed, '– and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks.'

By the time Lockhart had finished his demonstration I had a very dark look on my face. There were several facts about his story that were glaringly inaccurate, the main one being that the Homorphus Charm that Lockhart mentioned would have had no effect on the werewolf at all considering that the only way a werewolf can return to human form is when the full moon has waned. That and the werewolf would have killed him before he even had a chance to subdue it. When the bell rang I gathered my stuff glad another lesson with him was over. There was only so much I could take of his tall tales.

'Homework,' called Lockhart, 'compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one.'

I rolled my eyes. Hermione and I walked to the back of the classroom to wait for Harry and Ron while the rest of the class filed past us.

'Ready?' Harry muttered.

'Wait till everyone's gone,' said Hermione nervously. Her eyes darted to the remaining few students in the room. They walked out the classroom, the door shutting behind them. 'All right …'

Hermione approached Lockhart's desk where he was busily signing something with his large peacock feather quill. His stationary was as flamboyant as he was. Harry, Ron and I followed.

'Er – Professor Lockhart?' stammered Hermione. 'I wanted to – to get this book out of the Library. Just for background reading.' She handed Lockhart the note we'd written requesting the book. 'But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section of the Library, so I need a teacher to sign for it – I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venoms …'

'Ah, Gadding with Ghouls!' said Lockhart brightly. He took the note from Hermione, not even looking at what was written on it. 'Possibly my very favourite book. You enjoyed it?'

'Oh, yes,' said Hermione. 'So clever, the way you trapped the last one with the tea-strainer …'

I bit back the desire to roll my eyes again at Hermione's enthusiasm.

'Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving the best student in the year a little extra help,' said Lockhart. He picked up his quill again and with yet another flourish, he scribbled a large loopy signature on to the note. 'Yes, nice, isn't it?' he added, seeing Ron's look of disgust and misinterpreting it. 'I usually save it for book-signings.'

Lockhart handed the note back to Hermione. I turned to leave once it was safely back in her pocket.

'So, Harry,' Lockhart continued, 'tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you're a useful player. I was a Seeker too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players …'

It was hard to miss Harry's snort in response to Lockhart's advice. If it was anything like his classes, Harry would be safer declining the offer. The four of us left the classroom and headed down the spiral staircase, stopping at the base of the tower beside the statue of the One-Eyed Witch. Once out of sight, Hermione pulled out the note so we could look at it.

'I don't believe it,' said Harry. 'He didn't even look at the book we wanted.'

'That's because he's a brainless git,' said Ron. 'But who cares, we've got what we needed.'

'He is not a brainless git,' said Hermione reproachfully. She carefully folded the note again and we set off for the Library.

'Just because he said you were the best student in the year …'

'Which, to be fair, is true,' I reasoned, 'but Lockhart's still one spark short of a spell. If he'd have seen what book it was we wanted I think even he would know it had nothing to do with slow-acting venoms.'

Harry pushed open the door to the Library and we went inside. We fell silent so as not to disturb the atmosphere in the Library at the cost of Madam Pince's wrath. She was sat at her desk to the left of the door, her eyes peering down her hooked nose at a large tome in front of her. Pushing Hermione ahead of us, we walked over to her desk. Her vulture-like eyes watched us suspiciously as we approached. Hermione handed her the note.

'Moste Potente Potions?' she read suspiciously. Madam Pince tried to pull the note towards her for a better look but Hermione seemed reluctant to let it go.

'I was wondering if I could keep it,' said Hermione breathlessly.

'Oh, come on,' said Ron. He pulled the note from Hermione's hand and thrust it at Madam Pince. 'We'll get you another autograph. Lockhart'll sign anything if it stands still long enough.'

Madam Pince held up the note as if to check its authenticity. She peered at it through narrowed eyes before finally getting up and walking to the back of the Library where the Restricted Section was located. She returned a few minutes later carrying a large and mouldy-looking book. The words Moste Potente Potions was just visible on the front cover in peeling gold letters. Hermione took the book and carefully put it in her bag. We then left the Library, trying to not walk too quickly to avoid any more suspicious looks from Madam Pince. Once the door was closed behind us, we hurried off back to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom despite Ron's objections. Hermione locked the door behind us so we wouldn't be disturbed.

The four of us took a seat on the cold stone floor of the bathroom. We could just hear Moaning Myrtle crying in her toilet stall at the far end of the room. Hermione pulled out the book from her bag and laid it down between us so we could read what it said. Carefully she opened the cover and began to turn the stained pages. I wrinkled my nose as I glanced at the contents. It was certainly clear why this book was kept in the Restricted Section; some of the potions described and their illustrations made me want to gag.

'Here it is,' said Hermione. She pointed at a page that had a drawing of a woman with a spider on her head. Beside me Ron shivered. There were several others of people transforming into others, half themselves, half another.

'"The Polyjuice Potion",' I read out loud. '"Properly brewed, the Polyjuice Potion allows the drinker to transform himself temporarily into the physical form of another. A dangerous process, the Polyjuice Potion is restricted to human transformations only". It sounds painful if you ask me.'

'This is the most complicated potions I've ever seen,' muttered Hermione. 'Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed and knotgrass. Well, they're easy enough, they're in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves. Oooh, look, powdered horn of a Bicorn – don't know where we're going to get that … Shredded skin of a Boomslang – that'll be tricky, too – and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into.'

'Excuse me?' said Ron. 'What d'you mean, a bit of whoever we're changing into? I'm drinking nothing with Crabbe's toenails in it …'

Hermione continued as if she hadn't heard him.

'We don't have to worry about that yet, though,' she said, 'because we add those bits last …'

Harry, Ron and I shared a look.

'D'you realise how much we're going to have to steal, Hermione?' Harry asked. 'Shredded skin of Boomslang, that's definitely not in the student's cupboard. What're we going to do, break into Snape's private stores? I don't know if this is a good idea …'

'I may have stolen the odd chocolate bar from a cupboard before,' I said, agreeing with Harry, 'but even I never pushed it when I lived at the orphanage. Matron would have killed me if I'd stolen anything of importance, not that she didn't think I couldn't do it if I wanted to.'

Hermione snapped the book shut.

'Well, if you three are going to chicken out, fine,' said Hermione. Her cheeks flushed. 'I don't want to break rules, you know. I think threatening Muggle-borns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, I'll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in …'

'We didn't say that,' I retorted.

'We just never thought we'd see the day when you'd be persuading us to break rules,' said Ron. 'All right, we'll do it. But not toenails, OK?' Hermione nodded, opening the book again.

'How long will it take to make, anyway?' asked Harry.

'Well, as the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days … I'd say it'd be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients.'

'A month?' repeated Ron. 'Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!' Hermione's eyes narrowed at him. 'But it's the best plan we've got, so full steam ahead I say.'

For the next few days, Hermione and I were left in charge of gathering the ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion and getting them into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. With the reassurance that Myrtle wasn't going to bother us, having been in and out of the bathroom several times without receiving so much as a howl from her directed at us, Hermione and I set up a cauldron and hid the ingredients inside one of the cubicles that we could use once all the ingredients were collected. Hermione tapped her wand on the lock when the door was closed to ensure no one stumbled upon it, then doing the same on the main door to the bathroom. Even though the "out of order" sign was still on the door and most girls always tried to avoid the bathroom because of Myrtle, we didn't want to risk anyone discovering what we were doing.

On Saturday morning Hermione and I stopped by the bathroom to add the leeches we'd got from the Potions student cupboard during our last lesson to our collection before heading down to breakfast. The Great Hall was full when we got there and there was a buzz about the room as everyone talked about the first Quidditch match. The fact that the Slytherin team were all riding Nimbus Two Thousand and One broomsticks seemed to be causing quite a stir. Hermione and I took a seat next to Ron and Neville. Harry was sitting just up from us with the rest of the Gryffindor team. He looked as pale as he had done last year before his first match; I guess even after a year of being on the team, he still got nervous before matches. At eleven o'clock Ron, Hermione and I went down to the Quidditch pitch with the rest of the school. We caught Harry at the door to the changing rooms and wished him luck before taking a seat up in the stands with the rest of the Gryffindors.

The school cheered as the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams walked out on to the pitch. The players took their positions around Madam Hooch who was standing in the centre of the pitch, the Quidditch ball trunk sitting on the grass beside her. On her first whistle the players mounted their brooms and flew up into the air to await her signal. A second whistle and the balls were released. The game had begun. I watched as the players shot like arrows around the pitch, the Slytherins clearly having the advantage with their newer brooms, while Lee Jordan once again commentated on the actions.

Soon enough rain began to fall making it harder to see what was going on, the players turning into nothing more than green and red streaks. I squinted through it with the hood of my jacket up to help deflect it away from my face. Relying on Jordan's commentary, I knew that Slytherin were already sixty points ahead of Gryffindor thanks to the speed of their brooms. A blur of red suddenly shot in front of my line of vision followed closely by a small black orb. I followed it to see the red blur duck under a second as it battered the black circle back in the opposite direction. The next moment the whistle had blown and the Slytherins in the crowd were booing at the timeout that had been called.

'What d'you think is going on?' asked Ron. The Gryffindor team were all gathered in a huddle on the pitch having called the timeout.

'I don't know,' said Hermione. 'It seems unusual for a timeout to be called this early on in a match.'

'Maybe Wood's changing their tactics,' I suggested. 'We haven't scored once since the game started and Slytherin are already sixty points up.'

After a few minutes discussion the game resumed. It soon became clear why the timeout had been called; following the red streak with black hair, I watched as Harry flew erratically around the pitch being chased by the black orb that I gathered was one of the Bludgers. It chased him relentlessly and Fred and George were doing nothing to stop it. I frowned, wondering why the Bludger wouldn't leave Harry alone and why the twins weren't doing anything about it. Harry shot in one direction before suddenly doubling back, the Bludger mirroring his moves seconds later. I saw him shoot past a player dressed in green with white hair I could easily identify was Malfoy before stopping for no apparent reason. Harry floated there for only a few seconds before –

WHAM

The Bludger that had been chasing him smacked Harry hard in the arm. I winced as I watched. There was no way Harry's arm would still be in one piece after that. I gasped as Harry swung off his broom, my reactions alerting Ron and Hermione beside me while the majority of the crowd were still watching the rest of the game. The Bludger came back for a second attack. Harry narrowly avoided it, swinging himself round and back on to his broom, then went straight into a dive. He shot towards where Malfoy had been watching him. I don't know what possessed Harry to do it as he took his other hand away from his broom giving him no control over it. Seconds later he crashed on to the ground in the mud.

Madam Hooch's whistle sounded and Jordan's announcement confirmed what had happened.

'HARRY POTTER'S CAUGHT THE SNITCH!' shouted Jordan over the sound of the rain. 'GRYFFINDOR WINS ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY TO SIXTY!'

While the crowds began cheering at the result, I turned to Ron and Hermione.

'We better go see if Harry's all right,' I said to them. 'That Bludger could have done a lot of damage.'

'Professor Lockhart's already down there,' said Hermione. I glanced down into the pitch; sure enough, I could just see his wavy blond hair streaking over to where Harry lay in a heap on the grass. 'I'm sure he'll be able to heal Harry.'

'Don't count on it,' Ron muttered to me. I nodded, and we headed out of the stands down to the pitch.

Lockhart was leaning over Harry when we got down on to the pitch, several Gryffindors including Colin Creevey and his camera following behind us as we joined the team crowded around him. Just to the side Fred and George were trying to wrestle the rogue Bludger back into the Quidditch trunk.

'Stand back,' commanded Lockhart, rolling up his jade green sleeves. He had his wand out. It looked like he was going to attempt to fix Harry's arm.

'No – don't –' said Harry weakly but Lockhart had done the spell before we could stop him. He pointed his wand at Harry's arm. There was a weird blue light and a slight buzzing sound that faded away after a moment or two. I watched in shock as Harry's arm suddenly began to flatten before falling limply to one side.

'Ah,' said Lockhart. 'Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken.' He lifted Harry's floppy arm, folded it in half then let it fall forwards again. 'That's the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the Hospital Wing – ah, Mr Weasley, Miss Black, Miss Granger, would you escort him? – and Madam Pomfrey will be able to – er – tidy you up a bit.'

'Wouldn't have needed tidying up at all if he'd have just let me go to the Hospital Wing in the first place,' muttered Harry faintly as he leant on Ron and we walked back to the castle.

Madam Pomfrey wasn't happy when she saw Harry's boneless arm when we finally reached the Hospital Wing. She instantly bustled him and Ron forwards to a bed, muttering furiously, before disappearing back into her office to get whatever she needed to heal him. Hermione took the chair beside his bed while I placed Harry's broom down on the floor by it.

'You should have come straight to me!' raged Madam Pomfrey. She came back out of her office carrying a bottle that looked a bit like a skeleton. She put the bottle down on the bedside table then examined Harry's limp arm. I could just see the label read "Skele-Gro". 'I can mend bones in a second – but growing them back –'

'You will be able to, won't you?' asked Harry desperately.

'I'll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful,' said Madam Pomfrey. She conjured a pair of pyjamas and practically threw them at Harry. 'You'll have to stay the night …'

'How can you stick up for Lockhart now, Hermione, eh?' said Ron through the curtain Madam Pomfrey had put up while he helped Harry into the pyjamas. 'If Harry had wanted de-boning he would have asked.'

'Anyone can make a mistake,' said Hermione, 'and it doesn't hurt anymore, does it, Harry?'

'No,' said Harry, 'but it doesn't do anything else, either.'

Madam Pomfrey pulled back the curtains revealing Harry now in bed, his arm lying limply beside him. She picked up the bottle of Skele-Gro and proceeded to pour some into a glass. The liquid was clear but seemed to smoke as it was poured out.

'You're in for a rough night,' said Madam Pomfrey, handing him the glass. 'Regrowing bones in a nasty business.' Harry took a sip of the potion only to spit it out again seconds later; I narrowly missed being sprayed in it. 'Well, what do you expect, pumpkin juice?'

Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes then left us alone with Harry to go back into her office, taking the Skele-Gro with her.

'I hope you aren't going to make a habit of getting injured in your first Qudditch match of the season,' I said once she was gone. I took a seat on the end of Harry's bed, Ron sitting on the arm of the chair Hermione was in. 'I don't think Wood would cope if his prized Seeker is continually put out of action like last year.'

'I wouldn't be out of action if Lockhart hadn't removed my bones,' said Harry.

'We won though,' said Ron, grinning. 'That was some catch you made. Malfoy's face … he looked ready to kill!'

'I want to know how he fixed that Bludger,' said Hermione. She was frowning. She must have been trying to figure it out since the match had ended.

'We can add that to the list of questions we'll ask him when we've taken the Polyjuice Potion,' said Harry. 'I hope it tastes better than this stuff …'

'If it's got bits of Slytherin in it? You've got to be joking.'

Our conversation was put to a stop when the doors of the Hospital Wing burst open. Soaking wet and still in their Quidditch uniforms, the Gryffindor Quidditch team burst in with their arms full of sweets and cakes, congratulating Harry on another amazing capture of the Snitch. No sooner though were we tucking into the Cauldron Cakes Fred and George must have snuck from the kitchen did Madam Pomfrey come back of her office and stormed straight over to Harry's bed.

'This boy needs rest, he's got thirty-three bones to regrow! Out! OUT!'

'So much for the party,' muttered George as we walked out of the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey slamming the door shut behind us.

Instead of going back to the Gryffindor Tower with Ron and Hermione for the customary celebratory party after winning the match, I had other things in mind. That voice I'd heard in the walls was still in the back of my mind even though I hadn't heard it again since Hallowe'en. It puzzled me how only Harry and I could hear it but no one else could. What was stranger was that Harry could detect it much better than I could, being able to follow it through the walls of the castle. I knew it was a long shot, but I questioned whether the fact I was a Feramorph – or Animagus, whatever you want to call me – had something to do with the reason I could hear the voice though I had no idea why an animal would be running around Hogwarts attacking Muggle-borns without someone telling it to. Taking refuge in a back corner of the Library, I searched through the history section for anything that could potentially have information on what I was, hoping it might lead me to an answer that might help us find out what was going on.

My search proved to be futile. I spent ages going through book after book without much luck and darkness had fallen by the time I gave up to return to the Tower having missed dinner. Lupin was right when he said there was very little information on Feramorphs. All I found was a couple of paragraphs on the subject in an old Transfiguration journal documenting the Animagus process, and all the information that was there I already knew from what Lupin had already told me. It did, however, state that these wizards were better communicators with animals, particularly when in animal form themselves as opposed to when in human form, being able to understand their emotions much better than a normal wizard could. Well, I already knew I could speak to animals when in animal form; Lupin and I had had several conversations during the full moon when he was Moony that I fully understood and could reply to.

I replaced all the books I'd looked through back on to their shelves. That's when I heard it again.

Blood … I need blood …

It stopped almost as soon as it had started. It sounded like it was nearby but I couldn't tell how close to me it was. The voice sounded exactly as before though, the same cold rasping tone. It unsettled me, being able to hear it but not know anything more, nor being able to track it like Harry could. I just hoped that hearing it again didn't mean what I thought it meant. That someone else had been attacked.

The next morning after breakfast Ron, Hermione and I headed straight for Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to check on the Polyjuice Potion. We locked the door behind us before unlocking the cubicle which had the cauldron and ingredients hidden inside. Hermione pulled out the cauldron and set it up on the floor near to the column of sinks by the entrance. A few cubicles down we could hear Myrtle gurgling away in her U-bend; she was unlikely to disturb us as it sounded like she was moping about something again. Hermione and I both sat down around the cauldron and began to prepare it while Ron stood leaning against the wall watching us.

'It's me,' said a voice from outside the door causing Hermione to gasp. She instantly got up and ran to the door to look through the keyhole.

'Harry!' Hermione unlocked the door with a tap of her wand to let Harry in. He looked much better now as did his arm. 'You gave us such a fright. Come in – how's your arm?'

'Fine,' said Harry. He closed the door behind him and Hermione locked it again.

'We'd've come to meet you, but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion,' Ron explained. 'We've decided this is the safest place to hide it. Enlighten me though,' Ron added, looking at Hermione and me, 'I know this is Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and all but why are we brewing this potion in broad daylight in the middle of a girls' bathroom? Don't you think we'll get caught?'

Hermione and I smirked at each other.

'No,' I said. 'No one ever comes in here because of Myrtle. You know that, Ron.'

'Yeah, but honestly, how bad can Myrtle be?' As Ron asked this, I saw out the corner of my eye Myrtle's head poke through the door of her cubicle. She must have heard we were talking about her. 'I mean, she's only a ghost. She can't be that bad.'

'Can't be that bad, can I?' shrieked Myrtle, making Ron jump when she swooped up to him. Myrtle glared at him then floated over us above the sinks so she stare at us all, tears already welling up in her eyes. 'It was the same when I was alive,' she wailed. 'I wouldn't expect a boy like you to know me. Who would ever talk about ugly, miserable, moping Moaning Myrtle?'

Myrtle let out a high-pitched scream. She flew between where Hermione and I sat by the cauldron causing a shiver to go down my spine before diving headfirst back into her toilet. There was a splash of water as she sunk back into the U-bend.

'She's a little sensitive,' I added. 'Remember what happened at the Deathday party?'

'I can hardly forget,' muttered Ron.

'Putting that aside,' said Harry, changing the subject, 'I have something important to tell you. There was another attack last night.'

'We already know,' said Hermione over him, 'we heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning. That's why we decided we'd better get going on brewing the potion.'

'At least he's only been Petrified,' I said bracingly. 'It's harsh but at least he wasn't killed.'

'The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better,' growled Ron. 'D'you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin.'

I glanced at Ron, my eyebrow raised. I doubted even Malfoy would do something like that just out of spite. Normally he'd just mock us instead.

'There's something else,' said Harry. 'Dobby came to visit me in the middle of the night.'

Dobby was a house-elf Harry had met during the summer holidays. Harry had told Hermione and me about him when we had met up in Diagon Alley to get our school things. He'd appeared in his bedroom at Privet Drive to give Harry a warning to not return to school this year but hadn't said why. When Harry had refused, he caused a dessert his aunt had made to fall on the head of a guest of the Dursleys, which had resulted in Harry being locked in his room and thus needing rescuing by Ron and his brothers in the first place. It was Dobby who had caused Harry and Ron to miss the train at the start of term by sealing off the barrier to not let them through when Harry had managed to escape the Dursleys, and he had been the one to make the Bludger chase after Harry at the Quidditch match yesterday, all to try and get Harry away from Hogwarts because of the Chamber of Secrets had been reopened.

'Strange,' I muttered, frowning. 'I've never heard of a house-elf acting like that before. Normally they can't do anything without their master's permission. But you say it was because he wanted to keep you away from the school?'

Harry nodded, 'Yeah, even if it meant sending me home in pieces all because history was going to repeat itself.'

'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?' repeated Hermione curiously.

'That settles it,' said Ron triumphantly. 'Lucius Malfoy must've opened the Chamber when he was at school here and now he's told dear old Draco how to do it. It's obvious. Wish Dobby'd told you what kind of monster's in there, though. I want to know how come nobody's noticed it sneaking round the school.'

'Maybe it can make itself invisible,' said Hermione. She gave the cauldron a stir, mixing the leeches that were floating on the surface sink back down. 'Or maybe it can disguise itself – pretend to be a suit of armour or something. I've read about Chameleon Ghouls …'

'You read too much, Hermione,' said Ron. He then turned to Harry. 'So Dobby stopped us getting on the train and broke your arm … You know what, Harry? If he doesn't stop trying to save your life he's going to kill you.'

'I'm not sure it's a Chameleon Ghoul,' I then said, going back to our previous conversation. I gave the potion a stir having now added the lacewing flies to it. 'A creature that Petrifies its victims and can somehow hide itself. Loads of creatures can disguise themselves as a defence mechanism but not many have the ability to petrify someone.'

'How do you know so much about creatures?' asked Harry.

'My Uncle,' I shrugged. 'He's a bit of a creature fanatic. He did Care of Magical Creatures when he was at school here.'

'D'you think he'd know what creature is inside the Chamber?' asked Ron hopefully. I shook my head.

'I doubt it,' I said. 'He wasn't at Hogwarts that long ago. He's only in his thirties.'

'Wow, your uncle's quite young,' said Harry. 'I think my parents are meant to be about that age too.' I glanced at Harry when he said this. 'Maybe they knew each other.'

'Maybe they did,' I shrugged. 'Who knows?'

'There, that's about all we can do for now,' said Hermione. She pointed her wand at the flame beneath the cauldron so it was extinguished. 'We just have to leave it until we get the rest of the ingredients. It should be all right sitting here without anything bad happening to it.'

Hermione and I gathered up the cauldron and the empty ingredient packets and bottles and put them back inside the cubicle, locking the door behind us so that it wouldn't be found. With the Polyjuice Potion safely hidden away again, we left Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

The news of Colin's attack spread quickly throughout the school like all news did here and by Monday morning, it was clear that everybody knew. Everywhere the four of us went we heard whispers and rumours surrounding what had happened after the Quidditch match that had led to him being attacked but it was all speculation. The first-years in particular were very freaked out by the news. They were now travelling in packs around the castle to get to their classes, huddled together as tightly as possible so that none of them could be attacked individually. Poor Ginny was very upset by the news as Colin had apparently been someone she got on with very well in her year and would sit next to him in class. Of course, Fred and George didn't help the situation by trying to scare her by jumping out from behind statues covered in fur and boils that they claimed were to cheer her up. It took Percy threatening to tell Mrs Weasley about Ginny having nightmares to get them to stop.

With the news of another attack, several of the students began selling various lucky charms and talismans under the noses of the teachers claiming they would protect the owners from the Heir of Slytherin. Being the nervous boy he was, Neville was easily persuaded to part with his gold for some of them, buying a large rotten onion, a pointed purple crystal and a rotting newt-tail that he insisted on carrying around with him in the pocket of his robe. The smell coming from them was awful.

'I really think you're being over cautious,' Hermione said to him one lunchtime. 'Talismans are only used by the superstitious.'

'If it means the Heir of Slytherin doesn't come after me,' said Neville nervously, 'I'll live with the smell if I have to.'

'Neville, you're a pure-blood,' said Seamus. 'The Heir of Slytherin is only going after Muggle-borns. It won't attack you anyway.'

'They went for Filch first,' said Neville, 'and everyone knows I'm almost a Squib.'

Given Neville's track record in class, I couldn't fault his logic in that statement.

The wet November weather soon made way for the chill of December. Soon almost every fireplace in the castle was lit with an inextinguishable fire in an attempt to hold off the cold winds that now swept around the windowless corridors. The Gryffindor Tower certainly became a haven of warmth for us whenever we were doing our homework. In the second week, Professor McGonagall came round as she had done the previous year to get the names of the students who were planning to stay at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I all signed the list once we heard that Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were all staying despite how odd it seemed for them to do so. It was the best chance we had at using the potion to get the confession out of Malfoy about being behind the attacks.

Unfortunately the potion still wasn't ready as we still hadn't collected the Boomslang skin or Bicorn horn. The only way to get them was to steal it from Snape's private stores within his office, a move that none of us were that keen on doing. The idea of being caught by Snape and the detention we'd receive because of it was enough to put all of us off continuing with our plan but at the same time the thought of more Muggle-borns being attacked was even worse. We only had a couple of Potions classes left of the term, so we had only a few opportunities left to get the ingredients before term ended. It was now or never.

'What we need,' said Hermione, 'is a diversion.' We were huddled together in the courtyard outside the Entrance Hall, waiting for the bell to ring to signal the start of lessons after lunch. 'Then one of us can sneak into Snape's office and take what we need.'

Harry, Ron and I shared a concerned look.

'I think I'd better do the actual stealing,' Hermione continued. 'You two will be expelled if you get in any more trouble, and I've got a clean record.'

'Hermione, have you actually ever stolen anything before?' I asked. 'Besides the biscuits you used to use your magic to nick before you came here.'

'Well, no,' said Hermione. 'I've never had to steal before in my life.'

'Perhaps you better let me do it then,' I said. 'I'm not proud of it, but I have stolen the odd thing before. Nothing from a shop or anything like that before you say anything,' I added hastily when the others all looked at me with shocked expressions. 'I only stole things from the other children at the orphanage to get back at them when they teased me and I always put the stuff back after they'd gone nuts trying to find it. Plus, like you said, you have a clean record. I'm not the best behaved student in the year but at least I won't be ruining anything if I get caught.'

'First the lock-picking, now stealing,' muttered Harry. 'What else don't we know you can do?'

A lot more than you might think, I thought to myself silently.

'OK, Jenna will go and steal the ingredients,' said Hermione. 'So all you need to do,' she said to Harry and Ron, 'is cause enough mayhem to keep Snape busy for five minutes or so.'

Our Potions lesson proceeded like every other Potions lesson. As we brewed our Swelling Solutions, Snape prowled up and down the rows of tables peering distastefully into each of our cauldrons at the substandard potions we were brewing and making sneering remarks to all of the Gryffindors about how runny their potions were. As usual only the Slytherins, particularly Malfoy, got any praise even if was just a slight improvement on one of our potions. When Snape finally reached Neville's cauldron, whom he took a particular interest in bullying for his skills, Hermione caught Harry's eye and nodded for him and Ron to start the distraction.

I kept my eyes on my Swelling Solution while also watching Harry out of the corner of them. I saw him duck down behind his table and light the firework Ron had given him before lobbing it straight into Goyle's cauldron in front of him. As soon as I heard the bang of his potion exploding and Snape's attention was diverted to the chaos now ensuing at the front of the dungeon, I quietly slipped out of my seat and crept over to the side door that led into Snape's office.

Snape's office was a small circular dungeon leading off the classroom. It was even darker than the Potions classroom with only a few candles burning in brackets along the walls. At the opposite side to the door sat Snape's desk while all around the walls were shelves and shelves of various jars and ingredients. In the dim light they cast an odd green glow around the room. Knowing I had less that about five minutes, my eyes scanned the jars for the ingredients we needed. It wasn't easy in the low light but I managed to find the Boomslang skin and the Bicorn horn and pocket a jarful of each of them into my robes. Back in the classroom I could hear the commotion from the explosion start to die down meaning I was running out of time. Quickly I crept back out of Snape's office while he still had his back to the door and shut it behind me, crawling back over to my seat so it looked like I'd never left.

At the front of the class several of the Slytherins were sporting various swollen limbs and features; Malfoy, who had been sitting next to Goyle, was trying hard to support his head that now had a very large nose protruding from it. I stifled a laugh when I saw him. Snape gave each of them the antidote to the potion before swooping down on Goyle's cauldron and pulling out the remains of the firework from it. A silence fell in the classroom.

'If I ever find out who threw this,' whispered Snape dangerously, 'I shall make sure that person is expelled.'

I saw Snape's eyes land on Harry beside me. The bell went moments later and the four of us quickly left the classroom. With the ingredients sat in my pocket, we rushed straight to Myrtle's bathroom.

'He knew it was me,' said Harry. 'I could tell.'

Once safely locked away inside the bathroom, I gave Hermione the ingredients so she could add them to the potion. She threw them straight into the potion and began to stir it.

'It'll be ready in a fortnight,' she said happily.

'Snape can't prove it was you,' Ron said to Harry. 'What can he do?'

'Knowing Snape, something foul,' muttered Harry.

'Let's not think about that,' I said. 'The less we think about what we've just done, the better.'

Leaving the potion to stew, the four of us snuck back out of the bathroom being careful not to be caught by Filch who was lurking nearby.

The following Wednesday when Harry, Ron, Hermione and I were walking across the Entrance Hall to go for dinner we noticed a group of people reading something that had been posted on the notice board next to the doors of the Great Hall. In amongst them were Seamus and Dean. They waved us over when they saw us. We made our way through the crowd to read the parchment note that had been pinned there. I looked at the notice to see it was written in the same loopy handwriting I'd seen scrawled all over my homework so many times this term, only just being able to read what it said. It looked like Lockhart was starting a Duelling club.

'First meeting tonight!' said Seamus enthusiastically. 'I wouldn't mind duelling lessons, they might come in handy one of these days …'

'What, you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?' said Ron. Despite his remark, he too was reading the sign with great curiosity. 'Could be useful,' he then said to us. We turned away and walked into the Hall. 'Shall we go?'

While Harry and Hermione were both keen on the idea, I wasn't. Regardless of what Lockhart had written in his books, I was somewhat doubtful of what his duelling skills were like, considering he couldn't even sort out some escaped Cornish pixies during our first lesson. Nevertheless, after dinner we rushed to the Gryffindor Tower to dump our schoolbooks and get out of our robes, then returned back to the Great Hall for eight o'clock in time for the Club to begin.

The Great Hall had been transformed when we were allowed back inside. The four House tables had vanished to be replaced by a single long golden stage in the centre of the Hall. The room looked even brighter than usual with its thousands of candles floating above it and the torches lit along the walls while the night sky was a dark black in comparison.

'I wonder who'll be teaching us?' said Hermione excitedly. 'Someone told me Flitwick was a duelling champion when he was young, maybe it'll be him.'

'I highly doubt that judging by the writing on the notice,' I said.

'As long as it's not –' begun Harry but he groaned before he had even finished his sentence.

Dressed in dark plum robes for the occasion with a cloak draped over one shoulder, as I'd expected, Lockhart strode bold as brass on to the stage to a round of applause from mainly the female percentage of the students gathered. Beside him strode a very sullen looking Snape. It looked like he'd been coerced into helping him. Lockhart waved an arm and a hush fell over the Hall.

'Gather round, gather round!' he called. 'Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!'

I felt Hermione grab my arm and she pulled me nearer to the stage so we could get a better view, Harry and Ron sloping along behind us. Lockhart pulled the cord holding his cloak and took it off, throwing it into the crowd; several girls gasped and attempted to catch it, Angelina being the lucky one to do so. I rolled my eyes then looked back up at Lockhart and Snape.

'Now Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Duelling Club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions – for full details, see my published works.

'Let me introduce my assistant Professor Snape,' Lockhart continued, his smile as broad as ever. I glanced at Snape; if looks could kill, Lockhart would be dead several times over by now. 'He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry – you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!'

'I didn't know Snape could duel,' Ron whispered to Harry and me.

'Maybe he only agreed to help as he'd get to hex Lockhart,' I suggested. The boys sniggered.

'Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?' said Ron. 'No more Potions or Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons.'

'The way Snape's glaring at Lockhart, I'd say Lockhart might be going to the Hospital Wing shortly himself,' said Harry.

Lockhart and Snape walked to the centre of the platform then turned to face each other. Lockhart and Snape raised their wands in front of their faces, lowered them again, and bowed to each other, Snape merely nodding his head rather than bowing with a flourish of his wand like Lockhart. Both turned on their heels and walked a few steps away from the middle before facing each other again. They raised their wands again, holding them as if they were proper weapons instead of aids to performing magic. I had to admit in spite of myself it was rather interesting to watch. I'd never seen a duel before, even an amateur demonstration like this.

'As you can see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,' explained Lockhart. 'On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.'

'I wouldn't bet on that,' Harry murmured. I could see what he meant. Snape's lip had curled up baring his teeth.

'One – two – three –'

With a swipe of their wands, Snape cried, 'Expelliarmus!' That spell had been in one of our textbooks listed under the Disarming Charm. All it was meant to do was knock whatever the opposing wizard was holding out of their hands. The amount of magic Snape put into though must have been much more than was needed for something as simple as knocking Lockhart's wand away. A bright red flash shot from Snape's wand hitting Lockhart squarely in the chest. He was sent flying backwards off the stage and into the back wall of the Hall, sliding down it with a dull thump.

'Do you think he's all right?' gasped Hermione. She was straining to see whether or not Lockhart was hurt. A shock whisper was going round the crowd while you could just hear the odd chuckle as well.

'Who cares?' said Harry, Ron and I in unison.

Lockhart got back to his feet. He picked up his hat and put it back on his hair that was now standing on end.

'Well, there you have it!' said Lockhart, his voice not as confident as before. 'That was a Disarming Charm – as you see, I've lost my wand – ah, thank you, Miss Brown. Yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see …'

Lockhart trailed off as he seemed to wilt under Snape's icy glare.

'Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me …'

Gasbag, I thought once again.

Snape and Lockhart stepped down off the stage and began making their way through the crowd diving people into partners. Standing with Harry, Ron and Hermione, I silently hoped that I would get paired with one of them. Unfortunately for us, Snape reached us before Lockhart. His black eyes fell on the four of us standing together and smirk lifted up the edge of his lips.

'Time to split up the dream team, I think,' he sneered. 'Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter –'

Harry instantly moved closer to Hermione and me.

'I don't think so,' said Snape. 'I will not have you and Black causing trouble under my watch.' I frowned; there was a strange tone in Snape's voice as he said that, as if it was something that had happened before. I know Harry and I had gotten into a lot of trouble before but this sounded as if it had only been us; Ron and Hermione were always involved whenever we had gotten in trouble in the past so I had no idea what Snape meant. 'Mr Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. Miss Granger – you can partner Miss Bulstrode – while Miss Black, you can partner Miss Parkinson.'

Pansy Parkinson was one of the Slytherin girls in our year group who seemed to have a permanent scowl on her face, not to mention an unfortunate black bob haircut with a square fringe that didn't help things. As Hermione sent me a pleading look after seeing she was paired with the rather large Millicent Bulstrode, I turned away and approached Pansy. She had her arms folded with her wand clasped in her hand as she watched me walk over to her, her eyes narrowed beneath her thick fringe.

'Face your partners and bow!' called Lockhart, back on the stage. 'Wands at the ready! When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent – only to disarm them – we don't want any accidents.'

'Guess I'm paired with you, Black,' Pansy spat disdainfully.

'Trust me, I have no more desire to be paired with you, Pansy,' I replied.

'Only because you know you won't beat me,' said Pansy. 'A half-blood like you wouldn't be able to perform a spell good enough to beat someone like me. I mean, just look at you!'

I looked down myself almost automatically. By now everyone around us was practicing duelling each other, wands and spells flying in all directions. It appeared Pansy was more interested in a duel of words rather than spells.

'You have absolutely no pride in your appearance let alone your blood,' Pansy continued. I raised my eyebrow; what did she know about my blood? 'We pure-bloods know how to dress and act like our heritage demands and yet you're from one of the most distinguished families!'

'What do you know about my family?' I asked, distinctly nettled by her comments.

'I know the Blacks are practically royalty,' sneered Pansy. It sounded like she was jealous, either that or disgusted. 'We Parkinsons are in the Pure-blood Directory too, you know. So is Draco's family.'

'So what?' I said. 'I don't give two spells about my heritage. It doesn't make me better than any other wizard, pure-blood or not.'

'Clearly,' sneered Pansy. Her eyes wandered up and down me for a second time. 'Terrible Muggle-like clothes; disgusting long hair probably full of mats and tangles; not a hint of dignity in what you look like.'

By now I was getting rather tired of Pansy's condescending remarks, however, instead of interrupting her mid-rant, I subtly pointed my wand at her and said under my breath, 'Oculus Transeo.' The invisible effect of the spell shot out of my wand hitting Pansy in the face. She stumbled backwards blinking furiously. When she opened them again her brown eyes had been forced to look towards each other making her cross-eyed. I held in a snigger at her confused appearance.

Unfortunately Lockhart had seen me do the spell.

'Now, now, Miss Black,' said Lockhart reproachfully, 'we're only working on Disarming our opponents at the moment.'

'Oh, I'm sorry, Professor,' I said innocently, fluttering my eyelashes like Hermione would whenever she spoke to him. If Harry or Ron had seen me, they would have thought I'd flipped my cauldron. 'I didn't mean to use that spell. It just slipped out when she and I were practicing.'

'Very well,' he said. 'Miss Parkinson, if you just pop along to the Hospital Wing I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will be able to sort you out.' I held back another snigger as I watched Pansy staggered through the crowd towards the doors. 'Miss Black, why don't you join Miss Patil and Miss Brown while – I say, what's going on over there?'

Over the other side of the room, I could see Harry and Malfoy were squaring up to each other both with a glare on their faces. A silver jet of light shot from Harry's wand tip hitting Malfoy in the stomach and sending him backwards on to the floor. He tried to stand up but was laughing too much having been hit by a Tickling Charm.

'I said disarm only!' shouted Lockhart.

'Tarantallegra!' choked Malfoy through his laughter. The spell hit Harry causing him to fall over as he no longer had any control over his legs.

'Stop! Stop!' yelled Lockhart but no one was listening.

'Finite Incantatem!' bellowed Snape's voice over the noise.

Harry's feet immediately stopped dancing while Malfoy was finally able to draw a breath having stopped laughing. Snape's shout had been heard throughout the Hall as the duels around us ended. I looked round at the chaos. Neville and Justin Finch-Fletchly were both in a heap on the floor; Ron, whose wand had clearly backfired again, was holding up a very ashen-faced Seamus while sporting a couple of singe marks on his cheek I presumed were from Seamus causing something to explode again; while Millicent Bulstrode currently had Hermione in a headlock, a pained look on her face as she grappled at Millicent's thick arm. Harry leapt forwards and pulled her off Hermione.

'Dear, dear,' said Lockhart, his eyes scanning the Hall. 'Up you get, Macmillan … careful there, Miss Fawcett … pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second, Boot …' He ran his hand over his forehead, clearly flustered. 'I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells,' said Lockhart. 'Let's have a volunteer pair – Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you?'

'A bad idea, Professor Lockhart,' said Snape. 'Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the Hospital Wing in a matchbox.' I saw Neville just across from me turn bright pink. 'How about Malfoy and Potter?' Snape then suggested with a smile.

'Excellent idea!' said Lockhart. He gestured for Harry and Malfoy to go up on the stage. I frowned; this wasn't going to be good.

I rejoined Ron and Hermione to watch Harry duel Malfoy on the stage. Lockhart was speaking to Harry, I assume to give him some sort of instruction, and dropped his wand. I cringed. Snape, meanwhile, was whispering something in Malfoy's ear. When both teachers had stepped away, Harry and Malfoy faced each other, bowed, then walked away in the opposite direction to take their starting positions. They raised their wands, ready.

'Three – two – one – go!' shouted Lockhart.

With a sharp flick of his wand, Malfoy lunged forwards and shouted, 'Serpensortia!'

There was a loud bang. From the end of Malfoy's wand shot a long black snake. It landed on the floor of the stage between Harry and Malfoy and raised its head, looking around at the number of students surrounding them. It let out an angry hiss. The people closest to the stage began to scream and back away from it as it slithered around hissing angrily at anyone near it. Both Ron and Hermione had taken a step back while I remained where I was, my eyes focused on the snake. I could feel how angry it was, not from being attacked, but because it was surrounded by too many people.

'Don't move, Potter,' said Snape lazily. It looked like he was enjoying this. 'I'll get rid of it …'

'Allow me!' shouted Lockhart.

He twirled his wand and pointed it at the snake. There was another loud bang and, instead of being dispelled, the snake flew up into the air then landed hard back on the floor. If it felt threatened before, it didn't anymore. Its hisses became more violent as it searched for whatever had attacked it. Its eyes fell on to where Justin was standing with Hannah and Ernie. Exposing its fangs the snake slithered forwards towards him ready to strike.

'Don't attack him!'

I jumped when I heard that voice speak. I looked round wildly for where it had come from only to realise seconds later that Harry was staring at the snake, his eyes focused on it with great intensity. He was walking towards it not caring that it was going to attack anything that came near it.

'Leave him!' said Harry. His voice sounded strange. It was all low and hissy, like a snake's. 'Leave him!'

I looked away from Harry back at the snake. It stopped hissing and looked at Harry before slumping down on the stage completely docile. With the snake subdued, Harry seemed to snap out of the trance he'd been in and looked towards the crowd where Justin was. I don't know what he expected to see but his grin was not reciprocated by Justin.

'What do you think you're playing at?' shouted Justin. And he stormed off out of the Hall. Ernie and Hannah followed after him.

The shocked atmosphere in the Hall was slowly disappearing as the crowd began to whisper about what they had just witnessed. Snape had raised his wand and pointed it at the snake causing it to vanish in a puff of black smoke. The snake let out one last hiss as it burnt from its middle where the spell had hit it to its head and the tip of his tail. I felt a terrible pain go through me as it vanished, almost as if I could feel the pain it felt when it was vanished.

Quickly I snuck through the crowd and out of the Hall. I ran back to the Tower completely spooked by what had just happened. What had Harry just done and why could I understand what he had said to the snake when no one else seemed to have been able to? I said the password and the Fat Lady let me into the Gryffindor common room. I finally stopped running and caught my breath. I looked up though when I heard something in the corner. It was Ginny. She was sitting hunched up on the floor.

'Harry – snake – Riddle –' she said to herself. I cautiously approached her.

'Ginny?' I said gently so as not to surprise her. 'Are you OK?'

I reached out and put my hand on her shoulder causing her to jump. She looked up at me with wide eyes. Before she could anything the portrait hole burst open again as Ron and Hermione dragged Harry inside the common room. When I turned back to Ginny, she was gone. Not knowing who or what was Riddle and having not had the chance to ask her, I got up and went over to the others to find out what had happened down in the Hall.

'You're a Parselmouth,' gasped Ron. 'Why didn't you tell us?'

'I'm a what?' said Harry, confused.

'A Parselmouth!' repeated Ron. 'You can talk to snakes!'

'I know,' said Harry. 'I mean, that's only the second time I've ever done it. I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once – long story – but it was telling me it had never seen Brazil and I sort of set it free without meaning to. That was before I knew I was a wizard …'

'You're joking, right?' I asked, shocked by how casually Harry had just told us that.

'A boa constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?' Ron repeated faintly. He looked at Hermione and me.

'So?' said Harry. 'I bet loads of people here can do it.'

'Oh no they can't,' said Ron. 'It's not a very common gift. Harry, this is bad.'

'What's bad?' said Harry, getting frustrated. 'What's wrong with everyone? Listen, if I hadn't told that snake not to attack Justin –'

'Oh, that's what you said to it?'

'What d'you mean? You were there … you heard me.'

'No, we didn't Harry,' said Hermione who so far had been completely silent, a first for her. 'None of us could understand what you were saying.'

'We heard you speaking Parseltongue,' explained Ron, 'snake language. You could have been saying anything. No wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something. It was creepy, you know.'

Harry's mouth fell open. I, however, had thoughts racing through my head. Harry had spoken Parseltongue, the language of snakes, and I could understand it. But how when I wasn't transformed?

'I spoke a different language?' breathed Harry. 'But – I didn't realise – how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?'

'Parseltongue is one of the few animal languages that a wizard can be taught,' I explained. 'Every animal has its own language but very few teach it to wizards, mainly because most wizards don't have the capacity or the necessary connection with animals to be able to learn it. Snakes are one of the few animals who are grouped as familiars to wizards and so those who kept snakes as companions were able to be taught the language and then pass it on through their families.'

'But – d'you want to tell me what's wrong with stopping a dirty great snake biting Justin's head off?' said Harry. 'What does it matter how I did it as long as Justin doesn't have to join the Headless Hunt?'

'It matters,' said Hermione. 'It matters because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent.'

'Slytherin had a snake as a familiar,' I continued, 'and he was the first wizard to be taught how to speak Parseltongue. It was considered by most a clear sign that he was starting to turn on the rest of the founders when they began to argue over who they admitted to the school.'

'Exactly,' said Ron. 'And now the whole school's going to think you're his great-great-great-great-grandson or something …'

'But I'm not,' said Harry. He looked at us in a way that was asking us to tell him it wasn't true. 'I can't be …'

'You'll find that hard to prove,' said Hermione. 'He lived about a thousand years ago; for all we now, you could be.'

---

AN: another chapter of Chamber of Secrets done. I hope the subtle changes make a difference to the story, I personally liked the addition in this chapter of Jenna's hexing of Pansy Parkinson during the duelling club showing Jenna has no patience for those who bully her and doesn't care about whatever her heritage may be though at this point she is still relatively naive about what being a Black truly means for her (both in appearance as Blacks are known for their beauty and her personality)