The Easter holidays began on the first Monday of April, giving the second years something new to think about. Before the Hogwarts Express left for London, the students were told about the subjects they had to choose for their third year. Hermione took this very seriously and kept going over their choices, weighing each subject against the others. Harry, on the other hand, decided to ask Sirius for advice. It seemed the sort of thing one ought to ask one's (as of yet unofficial) magical guardian, he thought. He also wanted an excuse to send another letter to tell Sirius to stop taunting Lockhart.

Sirius sent a long, enthusiastic reply, which did mention Lockhart, but only to ask whether he had left Hogwarts during the break (he had). The rest of the letter consisted of advice about the choice of subjects:

...I think it's best to stick with what you enjoy doing, as you'll have to keep the subjects you choose for at least two years, until your OWLs.

I wouldn't recommend muggle studies, as you likely know more about the muggle world than the teacher. Divination is always a bit of a wild card, and depends on the quality of the teacher, but usually is best suited to those who have a talent for it. Arithmancy is related to muggle mathematics, and as you had mathematics at your primary school, you should be able to decide if you want to learn it. Ancient runes is a bit like learning a foreign language. It also teaches you how to write spells – something that is only touched on in charms. And, finally, care for magical creatures is exactly what it says.

I, myself, had muggle studies, care for magical creatures and arithmancy. I liked them all well enough, but as I advised against one of those subjects, let me recommend one as well. I think you'd enjoy care for magical creatures. It'll introduce you to a part of the magical world you haven't encountered much of yet.

I don't remember your mum's choices, other than divination – because she later complained she didn't have much talent for it. Your dad took almost the same subjects as me, but he chose ancient runes instead of arithmancy...

Harry re-read that part of the letter several times, as he tried to make up his mind. Hermione also had a look at it, as she did not have any magical relations to advise her – except for Percy, who was eager to give both her and Harry all the asked-for (as well as some unasked-for) advice.

With the school almost empty again, Hermione had come up with a new project. As the least athletic of the three of them, she had had trouble with the more physical parts of duelling. So she had asked Harry to tell her about the sorts of exercises he had to do for quidditch practice that she could try herself.

"Well, quidditch practice does seem to have helped with your duelling," she tried to explain to her surprised friend. "I can never disarm you, Harry, you always manage to hold on to your wand. And you can often just evade spells – because you've learned how to dodge bludgers, you say. And even Ron says that he's good at shielding because of all the practice he's had playing as keeper."

She looked serious and determined, so Harry agreed. He explained some of the easier exercises Oliver made them do that did not involve a broom, and that he thought would help with the skills she wanted to develop. Hermione began with her usual enthusiasm, but even jogging for a few minutes to warm up tired her quickly. So instead of just showing her the exercises and leaving her to it, Harry began to exercise with her, and encourage her, when she did badly.

Ron joined them a couple days later, as he was still wary of spending too much time alone with Fred and George, and did not want to be left out, either. Soon, Harry was training his friends in a similar way to how Oliver trained the Gryffindor quidditch team. Once or twice, he even caught himself using Oliver's phrases.

The boys soon began to notice how their physical exercises were improving their duelling. Hermione was struggling to keep up, but her friends were eager to help her get better – as for the first time ever they were teaching her, rather than the other way around. In turn, they all noticed how Hermione's patience increased when explaining things to the boys – especially Ron. She was becoming better at not discouraging him when he struggled to understand something.

Hagrid ran into them a couple of times – stopped in his tracks, causing Fang to pull pull on the suddenly tight leash, and stood there watching them for several minutes. He did not say a word, just shook his head at their antics.

Near the end of their holidays, Harry had the idea to ask his cousin about exercises to try. Dudley's letters had grown to include more and more talk about boxing, as it was slowly becoming his favourite activity at Smeltings. Harry had the vague idea that Dudley might know some useful exercises, as boxing was at least more similar to duelling than quidditch. His cousin did not disappoint. He sneaked his longest letter to date past his parents, detailing all sorts of exercises, and even sent a book about boxing techniques.

~HP~

"I'm exhausted, I have to stop," said Hermione.

Harry silently had to agree with her. They had spent the entire morning since receiving Dudley's letter trying to understand the instructions he had sent them.

"Come on, Hermione, you're not telling me you're slacking off?" Ron's teasing had a sharp note to it from his own exhaustion.

Harry did his best to look like he was still feeling energised. "Come on, we've just figured out what this 'slipping punches' thing is supposed to look like. We can at least test it out a few times."

Hermione's shoulders sagged, and even Ron had to suppress a groan, but once again they followed Harry's instructions. Of the three of them, he was the only one who regularly exercised as part of his quidditch practice, and somehow that was enough to make him the authority of sorts.

"My turn to shoot sparks at you," he said, drawing his wand. Of course, having to evade spells was different from evading punches, but for the moment, they were doing their best, trying to use what they had.

"Oh, alright. But we really are stopping after this round. I still need to read up on ancient runes-"

"But this is way more important," said Ron. He had his wand drawn as well, but had yet to need casting a shield against Harry's attacks – if they could even be called that.

"Yes, well, I don't have much time left to decide what subjects to pick for next year. We need to submit our choices as soon as school begins-"

"And Harry'll start his quidditch practice as soon as school begins, and won't have time to train with us any more. Honestly, how are you still deciding?"

Hermione was too busy arguing with Ron to see Harry shoot sparks at her in time. She jumped as they whizzed through her. "Well, we can't all be trying to guess which subjects will be easiest," she said, her annoyance at being hit adding to the sharpness of her tone.

"Hermione-" Harry looked disapprovingly at his friend.

"I'm not trying to pick the easiest subjects," Ron said hotly. "I think I'll like divination and care for magical creatures best. Because I actually can make a choice-"

"Ron, really. She can think about this however much she wants – after we're done here. And, anyway, I haven't made up my mind either-"

"What, the way she goes on and on, she might pick every subject on the list – Wait, you too?"

Harry shrugged. "I was going to pick the same subjects as you. And then Sirius wrote about the map. And now I'm thinking – I don't know." He shrugged again, lowering his wand.

His godfather's latest letter had included a number of things to think about. Apparently, he was trying to stay unnoticed by Lockhart, and had therefore stopped his investigation of the would-be adventurer during the holidays. This had calmed Harry's worries, and suddenly more ordinary things like picking the subjects for the next year seemed much more important. The letter had also asked whether Harry had come to a decision regarding that, and had included a story about making the Marauders' Map:

… We did need to do our own research, of course, but it helped a lot that I knew some arithmancy and Prongs knew ancient runes – And Moony knew both, of course, but he mostly did the 'research'. I remember, I did all the calculations – distances and angles and so on – though Wormtail had helped with measuring the castle. Prongs then 'wrote' the spells into the map. I still can't remember what exactly Moony did…

"So are you thinking of taking ancient runes and arithmancy, then?" asked Hermione. There was a cautiously hopeful note in her voice, as if she did not quite believe Harry's intentions.

Harry glanced at her. Seeing her eager expression, he suddenly realised that she would prefer to share classes with her friends as well, but held little hope of that happening. "Well… Not both of them," he said.

"So which one are you thinking of?" she asked eagerly.

"I..." Up until that point, Harry had not made up his mind, but something about the way she was looking forward to having him share her classes, helped him come to a decision. "I think arithmancy. I was quite good at maths in primary school. And if I have three subjects, I can drop one if I really hate it."

"Oh, that's great!" Hermione squealed. She then immediately began to regale him with the things she had already learned about the subject.

"Well, aren't we training any more?" asked an annoyed Ron.

"Sorry, Ron." Harry immediately raised his wand and faced his friend.

Ron did the same, but then hesitated, his eyes oddly becoming fixed to his wand. "I… I want-" He stopped what he was going to say and his eyes focused on something behind Harry's back.

Harry and Hermione turned around to follow their friend's gaze and saw Hagrid, standing close by, observing them. Noticing that he had been spotted, he raised one of his massive hands to wave at them. Then he finally approached them.

"What're yeh up ter – running around in circles all the time?" he asked. "And now shooting spells at each other—"

The three friends protested immediately that they had been doing more than just running, and then they explained a little of what they were doing – improving their duelling skills.

Hagrid's face, instead of clearing up at the explanation, darkened into a frown. "Yer not still worried, are yeh? About the Chamber o' Secrets—" Seeing their caught out expressions, Hagrid's shoulders fell and he lowered his head with a heavy sigh. Then, resolutely, he invited his young friends to his hut for a cup of tea.

After weeks of absence, they were back in the familiar space of Hagrid's hut. Harry was struck by the realisation that he had missed this, the familiar space, and the feeling of being welcome here. Hagrid seemed to be thinking along the same lines, serving them all he had lying around – extra hard biscuits, stoat sandwiches and, of course, tea – and trying his best to make them feel cosy and comfortable.

When finally he thought he had done enough, Hagrid sat on his bed with a heavy sigh. "Wish I could tell yeh ter stop worrying. An' I'm sorry I wouldn' tell yeh more about the monster-" He cradled his huge head in his equally oversized hands.

Harry and his friends, on their side, had not forgotten their resolve not to say a word about the Chamber of Secrets. No matter how much they wanted to know about it, it was not worth losing Hagrid's company over it. "You don't have to tell us about it," Harry protested at once. "We kept harassing you with questions even though we could tell you didn't want to talk about it-"

"No, no, no. I was bein' a coward, that's what I was!" Hagrid scratched his beard embarrassedly. "It's ter do with me gettin' kicked out of Hogwarts, is the thing..."

His young audience sat up in surprise. Suddenly it was very difficult to keep to their resolve to stop asking Hagrid more questions. But they need not have worried. Their friend had made his own resolution to be brave.

"I... Hm. Difficult ter start. Hm." Hagrid grumbled. "So," his voice went up to cover up his discomfort, "this is what happened. I... had a – pet – Not one of those on the list of approved pets, yeh understand." He would not meet their eyes. "But Aragog was no monster! He wasn't. Isn't-"

"Aragog?" Ron said, his curiosity getting the better of him. "What sort of pet would you name that?"

Hagrid mumbled something, and then had to repeat himself: "An acromantula." He waited for a reaction, but none of his listeners recognised the word. Only Hermione looked like she might have heard it, but could not remember. "Anyway, th' important thing was that he hadn't done any of it." He fell silent for a long moment, but his visitors did not dare to interrupt. Finally, he took a deep breath and with another sigh he continued his tale. "But I still thought it safer ter sneak him out of Hogwarts an' into the Forbidden Forest the night after that student died. I feared, if he was discovered – But that's when Tom found us."

"And he reported you to Headmaster Dippet?" Hermione asked carefully, when Hagrid fell silent again.

"Very eager ter, he was. Tried ter tell him it couldn't've been Aragog, but he wouldn't listen. Not that I blame him. He was an orphan too, see? An' if the school had closed, he'd've had ter go back ter his orphanage. 'Course he was desperate ter find the culprit. An' when he discovered Aragog... I was expelled, an' they snapped me wand. But at least I didn't have ter go to an orphanage, either. Ogg, the groundskeeper at the time, took me as an apprentice," Hagrid rushed to the end of his tale, looking drained.

"Do you like being the groundskeeper?" asked Ron.

Hagrid considered this with some surprise. "Yeah. Yes, I do."

"So it wasn't Aragog, but the attacks stopped anyway," said Harry, thinking along. "You – and Aragog – made the perfect cover, I suppose." He knew from Ginny and Dumbledore that Riddle had been the culprit himself, but Hagrid had not arrived at that suspicion, it seemed.

Instead, the giant of a man crumpled in on himself and teared up. "I – I'm touched, Harry, that you believe me. Not that I doubted you, but-"

Harry and his friends did their best to reassure Hagrid that they believed him, until their friend had composed himself.

"'Course Aragog had nothing ter do with the Chamber of Secrets," Hagrid then said almost angrily, the old hurt still not entirely gone. "All yeh'd have ter do is follow the spiders ter Aragog, and—"

"Spiders?" exclaimed Ron.

"Not that yeh three should go running around the Forbidden Forest—" Hagrid added, trying to get them to promise not to worry too much about the monster any more – "As yeh said, Harry, it did stop attacking all of a sudden, last time. Seems ter me, it did the same again this time."

It was not a difficult promise to make. After all, they were not worrying. They were preparing.

~HP~

The return of the students once again brought up the choice of new subjects. Everyone had marked their lists with checks, ready to hand in, and were eager to see whom they would be sharing classes with the following year.

Neville told his friends how he had been sent letters from all the witches and wizards in his family, all giving him different advice. He had chosen divination and care for magical creatures, but his family had insisted he pick one more subject. Confused and worried, he kept asking people if they thought arithmancy sounded more difficult than the study of ancient runes. Dean Thomas, on the other hand, said that he had finally picked his subjects at random, by jabbing his list with his wand.

Hermione really did decide to sign up for everything. Ron did not comment on this. Instead, his ears turned red as his friends noticed his lack of reaction. Gripping his own list in his hands, he turned to look at Harry's. "You've checked arithmancy? You're decided, then?"

"Yes, I think so. Yes. I can always drop out if I hate it."

Ron nodded, clutching his own list, as he fidgeted, crinkling it.

"What? Are you reconsidering your own choices?"

Ron went red. "Maybe. I—"

"What are you thinking of? Arithmancy as well?" asked Hermione.

"Ugh, no."

"Well, I'll be happy to have you in any of my other classes," said Hermione sincerely.

Ron looked at her, not quite in surprise, then looked down. "This might be silly," he mumbled. "I was thinking of taking muggle studies. There's all these things you two talk about that I've no idea about-"

"That's great, Ron! It'll be fun if you actually learn how to call on the phone, or-"

"But," interrupted Ron, looking conflicted, "you two know all that stuff, and you could just teach me if I needed it, I guess. It's just..."

"It's up to you, of course," said Hermione, when he would not finish the thought. "But like Harry said, you can just drop out of the class, if you don't like it."

Her disappointed look gave Ron the final push. He checked the box next to muggle studies and would not say any more about the matter.

He did not try to explain. Sometimes words are hard to come, even when one has spent an awful while contemplating them. They get twisted somewhere in the recesses of our minds, and come out – mangled – wrong, somehow.

So Ron did not say anything about how he felt like his friends were difficult to keep up with, how it felt like a race, just remaining friends with them and not being left behind. Or how sometimes, when he got annoyed at his failings, it seemed like he was annoyed at his friends – and how the guilt only added to his feeling of inadequacy.

Once again, the memory of his wand shopping came back to him, as it had several times over the holidays, ever since he had thoughtlessly looked into Hermione's wandlore book. Willow for insecurities, ash for his birthday – that unexpected, unexplained link to his friends. And in the end he had chosen ash. No matter what Ollivander said about wands choosing their owners, it had been Ron choosing his friends, choosing to keep that connection with them through their wands that had led to his new wand of ash, he was sure of that.

Taking a class like muggle studies, where Hermione would know so much more than him, where even Harry would know more than he would ever learn – it was not an easy choice, not for him. But once again, Ron wanted to choose his friends, wanted to understand them better, wanted to be more like them.

~HP~

The preparations for the upcoming quidditch match against Hufflepuff took over as soon as teaching had resumed. Wood insisted on so much training, that Harry had barely time for anything other than homework and quidditch. The training sessions were getting better, or at least drier, and Harry was confident about their chances to win.

Other parts of his life were somewhat more stressful. Hermione still insisted on duelling practice, though she and Ron did the physical exercises by themselves, usually when Harry had quidditch practice. Harry's letter to Sirius, telling him of his subject choices, remained unanswered for a couple of weeks. He was annoyed enough that he sent a second letter, telling his godfather exactly what he thought of being made to worry for no good reason.

This finally had the desired effect. Sirius sent a prompt reply, sounding touched by Harry's worry for him. He also explained why he had delayed an answer for so long. After Lockhart's return to Hogwarts, Sirius had gone back to investigating him, but had found unexpected roadblocks. The people who had seemed to want to talk about him before had either disappeared or had changed their minds. All of Sirius' trails had gone cold in a matter of a couple weeks. Needless to say, Sirius was very annoyed.

Harry woke on Saturday morning to brilliant sunshine and a light, refreshing breeze.

"Perfect quidditch conditions!" said Wood enthusiastically at the Gryffindor table, loading the team's plates with scrambled eggs. "Harry, buck up there, you need a decent breakfast."

Harry had been staring along the packed Gryffindor table, towards the high table, wondering what shenanigans were going on behind the vacant expression on Lockhart's face. Hermione had been telling him not to let the teacher notice all the suspicions Harry had about him, but Harry did not like the idea. For all his complaining to Sirius, he did want Lockhart to be revealed as a fraud, and if his godfather had lost his leads, maybe he should think of an alternative strategy.

As he was leaving the great hall with Ron and Hermione to go and collect his quidditch things, Hagrid greeted them, and followed them out. "I'll make sure ter be at th' pitch on time, Harry," he said in passing. "I won't miss yeh winning the cup again this year. Now, no more worrying about monsters – you've got something more important ter worry about!"

Harry waved after him, promising one again with a laugh not to worry, and turned towards the marble staircase. He had barely sat foot on the stairs, when he had to go back on his promise.

"Kill this time... let me rip... tear..." he heard it yet again.

He shouted aloud and Ron and Hermione both jumped away from him in alarm. "The voice!" said Harry, looking over his shoulder. "I just heard it again – didn't you?"

Ron shook his head, wide-eyed. Hermione, however, clapped a hand to her forehead.

"Harry – I think I've just understood something! I've got to go to the library!"

And she began to sprint away, up the stairs.

She was halfway up the staircase, but suddenly stopped, turning back around. Quickly, she ran down again. "Harry, could I borrow your foe-glass, please?" She began to switch her weight from one foot to the other, barely able to wait for Harry to rummage in his bag. "Though I do have a good idea what we'll see..."

"What, you think you'll see whose voice I heard?" said Harry, becoming excited.

"Well, or at least if there is anyone to see," grimaced Ron. "If you really heard something – or, I mean-" He stopped talking as soon as Harry had produced the foe-glass.

"There it is!" said Hermione, the only one not surprised by what she was seeing. "Oh, but it looks so big... Though it's difficult to tell, I guess-"

The boys stared with fascination at the reflection in the foe-glass, showing what looked like an overgrown snake, slithering seemingly away from them.

"Oh! Parseltongue!" Harry finally caught on. He stood, irresolute, trying to catch the voice again, but people were now emerging from the great hall behind him, talking loudly, exiting through the front doors on their way to the quidditch pitch.

"Exactly," said Hermione, keeping her voice soft. "That's why you're the only one who could hear it. I'm pretty sure it must be a basilisk – I've read about them in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, but I better go to the library to look up the details." She was about to turn away again.

"No, we should warn everyone first," said Harry. "Let's find a teacher."

"But it's almost eleven – the match—" said Ron.

"Oh, how can you think quidditch more important at such a time!" said Hermione.

"No, I mean, everyone will be leaving the castle, anyway."

They looked undecided at each other, before Harry grabbed his bag again to look for his map of Hogwarts. His friends' eyes focused on the innocuous-looking parchment as he drew it out. They raced up to Gryffindor Tower, as they had to go somewhere private anyway, to look at it.

"And maybe you're right, Ron," Harry wheezed along the way. "If everyone's safe, we might as well play."

"Where is it?"

They looked frantically for any name that might belong to the basilisk across the map, but could not find it. At least, the hundreds of dots were reducing in number, as Hogwarts was emptying of its human population. The ghost names were the only ones to be staying inside, Nearly Headless Nick not too far away from them.

Somewhat calmed, Harry ran up to his dorm to grab his Nimbus 2000, while Hermione went to get her Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Once they were back, Ron picked up the map, and they went back downstairs, still watching the map, unconcerned to have it in the open now, with the castle almost completely empty.

They did not come very far. Barely out of the tower, Ron shouted, drawing up short, and making the others jump, as he spotted a new dot near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, titled 'Slytherin's Monster'.

"Oh, no. Oh, no. We should've told a teacher," wailed Hermione.

"Too late!" said Harry. "Wait. Is anyone nearby? Or sill inside the castle-"

He saw it first, Hagrid's name over the dot moving in the library. He barely had to point at it, his friends noticing it just a moment later. With a sinking heart, they watched the basilisk move in his direction.

"We need to warn him!"

"We can't – we'll never make it in time!" exclaimed Hermione.

"We have to try – we have to!" shouted Ron, ready to bolt.

"Wait, look!" Harry did not try to explain, instead running in the opposite direction, back to the Gryffindor Tower, shouting, "Nearly Headless Nick!"

"Harry, you still here?" said the ghost, sliding through the wall, looking astonished. "Shouldn't you be at the match?"

"No – Hagrid – You-" wheezed Harry, then swallowed.

"You have to warn Hagrid!" his friends were also shouting, having followed him. "He's in the library. The monster is after him!"

Nearly Headless Nick stared at them for a moment, trying to understand.

"Go!" Harry pointed frantically in the direction of the library.

The ghost glided away, much faster than any human could run, before Harry had even finished saying, "Please!"

Then they were running again, towards the library, not caring about the danger.

They did not make it in time. There was a commotion near the library, when they got there. Several teachers, including McGonagall, were clustered together around the entrance, debating something in tense voices. When they could glimpse inside, they saw another figure, the strangest sight Harry had ever seen.

It was Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock.

They gasped, drawing the teachers' attention. If they were more than surprised to see these particular students, none showed it. Thankfully, neither Snape, nor Lockhart were there.

Instead, McGonagall looked at them with something resembling sympathy. "This may come as a bit of a shock. Hagrid has been petrified," she told them.

"That reminds me, I have to cancel the quidditch match," murmured McGonagall, as her gaze fell on his broom. She turned to go, but conjured a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to the librarian, Madam Pince, standing nearby, with instructions to waft Nearly Headless Nick along to the Hospital Wing.

Hagrid had to be levitated, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. When he was lifted, there was a line of spiders scuttling as fast as they could away from the space he used to occupy. Harry and his friends could not follow along as he was taken to the hospital wing, eager to avoid too many questions about their own whereabouts. Slowly, with heavy hearts, they returned to the Gryffindor Tower.

"We should've stopped it, we should've kept Hagrid from getting hurt, and instead I got Nearly Headless Nick petrified as well..." said Harry.

"No, no. That was a brilliant idea," said Hermione very softly. She opened the book she had taken from her dorm to the entry about basilisks. "Here, see what it says. Hagrid would've died if not for Nick. He must've seen the basilisk's eyes through Nick's body – just like Mrs Norris would have looked at it through the puddle of water on the floor! And Colin saw it through his camera lens. And, Ginny, of course, was looking at the window and saw its reflection there..."

The boys, reading over her shoulder, began to understand her explanation, shuddering at the thought how easily people – people very close to them – could have died.

Later, McGonagall came to the Gryffindor Tower with an announcement: "All students will return to their House common rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities."

The Gryffindors packed inside the common room listened to Professor McGonagall in silence. She rolled up the parchment from which she had been reading and said in a somewhat choked voice, "I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward."

She climbed somewhat awkwardly out of the portrait hole, and the Gryffindors began talking immediately. The double attack on Hagrid and Nearly Headless Nick brought back the panic that had reigned after the attack on Ginny. Curiously, it was Nearly Headless Nick's fate that seemed to worry people most. What could possibly do that to a ghost? people asked each other; what terrible power could harm someone who was already dead?

Unfortunately, Harry's involvement once again had not gone unnoticed. He had of course been missed in the changing room by his team, and one of the teachers must have mentioned that he and his friends had arrived just after they had found Hagrid and Nearly Headless Nick. The whispers and fingers pointed at him were back.

But Harry was barely paying attention. He did not seem to be able to get rid of the picture of Hagrid, lying on the library floor as though carved out of stone. And if the culprit was not caught soon, he was looking at a lifetime back with the Dursleys. Tom Riddle had abandoned his attacks and had instead turned Hagrid in because he was faced with the prospect of a muggle orphanage if the school closed. Harry now could almost understand how he must have felt.

"What're we going to do?" said Ron quietly in Harry's ear. "D'you think some of the teachers were still suspecting Hagrid?"

"We've got to go and talk to Dumbledore," said Harry, making up his mind. "He knows exactly that Hagrid had nothing to do with it, back then or now. And if he knows the monster's a basilisk, maybe he can track down the culprit."

"But McGonagall said we've got to stay in our tower unless we're in class—"

"I think," said Harry, more quietly still, "it's time to get my dad's old cloak out again."