Author's Note: If you have not read the other two stories in this series you might want to. Some things are explained in them that might be mentioned here. And even though Wrong Memory 2 is set after this one timeline wise. It was started before this one (hence being Wrong Memory 2) and there are things that were revealed there that have been mentioned here. Such as Buffy and Faith's daughter Joyce.

A reviewer asked who Joyce's father was. If you had read Wrong Memory 2 you would know the answer, I hope. But in case you don't know or have yet to read, there is in effect no father. It was revealed in Wrong Memory 2 that Buffy was artificially inseminated. The likely father is an anonymous stranger from a sperm bank.


Chapter 3: Whispers

"Where's Harry?" Willow asked when she and Dawn came down for breakfast.

"I heard that he had Quidditch practice this morning," Dawn said.

Other than during classes, they rarely saw Harry. It seemed he had been dodging Lockhart every time he saw the interim professor.

"Either that or he's avoiding Lockhart again," Dawn said glancing at the man in question who sat at the other end of the staff table.

"Why don't we go check the Quidditch field," Willow suggested. "I've been wanting to see how they play this sport we've never heard of before."

Dawn and Willow grabbed some food and headed out to the Quidditch pitch. There they saw the Gryffindor team riding on broomsticks, practicing. They spotted Harry soaring above them, racing two other Gryffindor students.

"What's that funny clicking noise?" called Fred Weasley as they hurtled past Willow and Dawn who had climbed to the top of one of the stands.

Dawn and Willow looked around and spotted Colin Creevy, a Gryffindor first year student, with a camera raised, taking picture after picture, the sound strangely magnified in the deserted stadium.

"Look this way, Harry! This way!" he cried shrilly.

"Mr. Creevy," Dawn said. "Put the camera away. It's distracting their practice."

Colin looked to Dawn and Willow. "Sorry, Professors," he said as he quickly tucked the camera away.

Willow nudged Dawn and motioned towards the ground below. Several students in green robes were walking onto the field, broomsticks in their hands.

"The Slytherin's are here," said George Weasley, pointing.

"I don't believe it!" Oliver Wood hissed in outrage. "I booked the field for today! We'll see about this!"

Wood shot toward the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted. Harry, Fred, and George followed.

A second later they were joined by Dawn and Willow as well.

"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

The rest of the Gryffindor team landed as well. The Slytherin team stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, leering at them. They hadn't noticed Dawn and Willow standing behind the Gryffindors yet.

"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'"

"Let me see that," Dawn said as she stepped between the two teams.

"Professor," Flint said, he hadn't expected there to be a professor out here. He handed her the note.

Dawn looked over the note. "That is what it says," she said. "Aperio."

The note did not change, it was genuine.

"It's real," Dawn said as she handed the note to Wood.

Wood looked over the note and then at flint. "You've got a new Seeker? Where?"

And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words: Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint making sure not to say anything that would get him detention since Dawn and Willow stood right there. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps sweeps the board with them."

"Since they have a note, Mr. Wood," Dawn said. "I hereby give my permission for your team to come back after breakfast and train during mine and Willow's Wiccan lesson today. Any Gryffindor team member who wanted to attend may see us after practice and we'll do a special session then."

The Slytherins frowned.

Wood nodded. "Thank you, Professor," he said. "Well Gryfindors we'll be back after breakfast."

The Gryffindors turned and left the field as Dawn and Willow followed them.

After their lesson Willow and Dawn were stopped by McGonagall on their way to lunch.

"I was asked by Professor Dumbledore, to see if you two would patrol the castle and grounds tonight," McGonagall said.

"Of course we would," Willow said.

"I should have been doing it anyways," Dawn said. "Helps burn off some of that excess Slayer energy when I'm out on patrol."

"Thank you," McGonagall said.

The afternoon seemed to melt away, and in what seemed like no time, it was five minutes to eight, and Dawn and Willow were patrolling the corridors. They passed Lockhart's classroom and frowned. Harry was in there.

Willow stepped into the classroom. "Professor Lockhart."

"Ah Professor Rosenberg," Lockhart said. "I see you and Professor Rosenberg-Summers are making the rounds. Harry here is serving detention with me."

"For?" Willow asked.

"He …" Lockhart said trying to find an excuse. "He failed a quiz."

"Not really worthy of detention," Willow said. "Come on, Harry. Your detention is over."

Harry glanced at Lockhart who nodded and he followed Willow out of the classroom. "Thank you," he said as they headed down the corridor.

And then Dawn and Harry heard something. It was a voice, a voice to chill the bone marrow, a voice of breathtaking, ice-cold venom.

"Come… come to me… Let me rip you… Let me tear you… Let me kill you…"

Harry glanced at Willow and Dawn. "Do you two hear that voice?"

"What voice?" Willow asked.

"I hear it," Dawn said. "Something is in the castle and wants to kill."

Harry looked at Dawn with a look of surprise that she had heard it too. "It's gone now."

"Agreed," Dawn said straining to hear it again. Even with her Slayer hearing she could no longer hear it.

"What did you hear?" Willow asked.

"Come… come to me… Let me rip you… Let me tear you… Let me kill you…" Dawn recited back from memory.

"Hmm," Willow said. "Tomorrow I'm going to check into the legends of Hogwarts. Dawn you should take to Professor Dumbledore."

Dawn nodded in agreement. "Harry, we'll figure it out."

The next morning Dawn sat in Dumbledore's office. "And that was what both Harry and I heard," she said.

Dumbledore let out a sigh. "Then it is very good we have a Slayer on the premises. There is a hidden chamber somewhere in or beneath the school. No one knows where. Within is supposed to be a terrible beast. The last time the chamber was opened was when Voldemort was still attending Hogwarts. The creature killed a student."

"Who?" Dawn asked.

"Myrtle Travers," Dumbledore said. "You would likely know her as Moaning Myrtle."

"Moaning Myrtle," Dawn said as she filed that information away for the moment. "And was the killer ever apprehended?"

"As far as the Ministry was concerned, yes," Dumbledore said. "Hagrid kept a pet acromantula. It was believed by the Ministry that was the creature that killed Myrtle. And Hagrid was expelled, his wand snapped."

"But Hagrid didn't do it," Dawn said. "If he had you wouldn't have employed later."

"You are correct," Dumbledore said. "It is my belief that there is indeed a creature in what is referred to as the Chamber of Secrets. It was released when Myrtle was killed and when Hagrid was found guilty the killings stopped."

"Who accused Hagrid?" Dawn asked.

"Voldemort," Dumbledore said. "I also believe that he opened the Chamber while he was here. If the creature is loose that means a student knows where the Chamber is and has unleashed the creature. Possibly with the intention of finishing Voldemort's work."

"To get rid of the muggle-born and regulate the half-blood," Dawn said.

"Yes," Dumbledore said.

"I'll keep my ears open."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds.

Dawn had patrolled the corridors of the school every night waiting and listening for the voice. But she had heard nothing.

Willow had looked through every book she could find and found little or no information on the Chamber of Secrets.

But that would change the night of Halloween. The majority of students were happily anticipating their Halloween feast; the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, Hagrid's vast pumpkins had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in, and there were rumors that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.

Dawn was standing guard at the entrance to the Great Hall when she saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked straight past here and headed for the dungeons.

"Harry," Dawn said as Harry looked at her. "Where are you three going?"

"Nearly Headless Nick invited us to his deathday party," Harry said.

"Alright," Dawn said and she glanced at Willow. ~ I'm going to accompany Harry to Nearly Headless Nick's party. ~

Willow nodded.

Dawn fell in step next to Hermione, Ron and Harry.

The passageway leading to Nearly Headless Nick's party had been lined with candles, too, though the effect was far from cheerful. The temperature dropped with every step they took. They also heard what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.

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

"My dear friends," he said mournfully. "Welcome, welcome… so pleased you could come… Professor Rosenberg-Summers, what an unexpected surprise."

"Well Harry told me about your party and being a Slayer I just had to see what kind of party it was, no offense," Dawn said.

"None taken. Not that you can truly harm me or my other guests. But I wouldn't have expected anything less."

He swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside.

It was an incredible sight. The dungeon was full of hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful, quavering sound of thirty musical saws, played by an orchestra on a raised, black-draped platform.

"Shall we have a look around?" Harry suggested.

"Careful not to walk through anyone," said Ron nervously, and they set off around the edge of the dance floor.

"Oh, no," said Hermione, stopping abruptly. "Turn back, turn back, I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle—"

"Who?" said Harry as they backtracked quickly.

"She haunts the first floor girls' bathroom," said Dawn. "I've been meaning to talk to her since we heard that voice. I learned some stuff."

"You did?" Harry asked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Sorry, I forgot," Dawn said. "I promise I'll tell you later."

"Look, food!" said Ron.

On the other side of the dungeon was a long table, also covered in black velvet. They approached it eagerly but next moment had stopped in their tracks, horrified. The smell was quite disgusting. Large, rotten fish were laid on handsome silver platters; cakes, burned charcoal-black, were heaped on salvers; there was a great maggoty haggis, a slab of cheese covered in furry green mold and, in pride of place, an enormous gray cake in the shape of a tombstone, with tar-like icing forming the words,

SIR NICHOLAS DE MIMSY-PORPINGTON

DIED 31ST OCTOBER, 1492

A portly ghost approached the table, crouched low, and walked through it, his mouth held wide so that it passed through one of the stinking salmon.

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

"Almost," said the ghost sadly, and he drifted away.

"I expect they've let it rot to give it a stronger flavor," said Hermione knowledgeably, pinching her nose and leaning closer to look at the putrid haggis.

"Can we move? I feel sick," said Ron.

"I have to agree with Ron," Dawn said. "And it takes a lot to turn a Slayer's stomach."

Nearly Headless Nick drifted toward them through the crowd.

"Enjoying yourselves?"

"Oh, yes," they lied.

"Not a bad turnout," said Nearly Headless Nick proudly. "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…"

The orchestra, however, stopped playing at that very moment. They, and everyone else in the dungeon, fell silent, looking around in excitement, as a hunting horn sounded.

"Oh, here we go," said Nearly Headless Nick bitterly.

Through the dungeon wall burst a dozen ghost horses, each ridden by a headless horseman. The assembly of ghosts clapped wildly.

The horses galloped into the middle of the dance floor and halted, rearing and plunging. At the front of the pack was a large ghost who held his bearded head under his arm, from which position he was blowing the horn. The ghost leapt down, lifted his head high in the air so he could see over the crowd (everyone laughed), and strode over to Nearly Headless Nick, squashing his head back onto his neck.

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

"Welcome, Patrick," said Nick stiffly.

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

"Very amusing," said Nearly Headless Nick darkly.

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

"I think," said Harry hurriedly, at a meaningful look from Nick, "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, it's time for my speech!" said Nearly Headless Nick loudly, striding toward the podium. "My late lamented lords, ladies, and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow…"

But nobody heard much more. Sir Patrick and the rest of the Headless Hunt had just started a game of Head Hockey and the crowd were turning to watch. Nearly Headless Nick tried vainly to recapture his audience, but gave up as Sir Patrick's head went sailing past him to loud cheers.

"I can't stand much more of this," Ron muttered.

"Let's go," Harry agreed.

They backed toward the door, nodding and beaming at anyone who looked at them, and a minute later were hurrying back up the passageway full of black candles.

"Pudding might not be finished yet," said Ron hopefully, leading the way toward the steps to the entrance hall.

And then Dawn and Harry heard it.

"…rip… tear… kill…"

It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice.

"Do you hear it?" Harry asked Dawn as he came to a halt.

"Yes," Dawn said. "This way." She took the lead from Ron and led the trio up the stairs and into the entrance hall.

"…soo hungry… for so long… kill… time to kill…"

"What're we—" Hermione and Ron started.

"SHH!" Dawn said as she strained her ears. From the floor above she heard the voice: "…I smell blood… I SMELL BLOOD!"

"It's going to kill someone!" Harry shouted as Dawn nodded and led them up the next flight of steps. She hurtled around the whole of the second floor not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

"Professor, Harry, what was that all about?" said Ron, wiping sweat off his face. "I couldn't hear anything…"

But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor.

"Look!"

Dawn followed Hermione's gaze and her eyes widened. "Stay here," she said and headed down the corridor. She could hear that Harry, Ron and Hermione had not obeyed her order and were following. As they approached They could see that foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

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

Dawn edged nearer.

"Careful," Harry said. "There is a puddle of something on the floor."

Dawn nodded as she opened a portal and stepped through on the otherside of the puddle closer to the dark shadow. She realized what it was at once.

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

Suddenly Dawn gasped out. "Harry, Ron, Hermione," she said. "Go to Gryffindor tower, now."

"Why?" Harry wondered.

"Just do it," Dawn said as Harry, Ron and Hermione turned and hurried down the corridor. They turned a corner just as she heard what she had seen in the memory. The rumble of students heading for their dormitories. From either end of the corridor came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.

The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat.

Then someone shouted through the quiet.

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

Dawn turned and found it had been Malfoy who had spoken. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.