Author's note: I had a really crap midterm today, so here's a chapter. Some people get drunk after exams, I write, haha. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy this chapter. Please review!

Guest: Severus's mood is only about to get worse, woops (sorry not sorry). I very much enjoy writing Lockhart. He's so melodramatic. It's fantastic. And yes, he seems to get under everybody's skin. It's fun to write mentions of that, too.

Warnings: Swearing

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I referenced pages 69-70, 94, and 106-110 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets while writing this.

The Chamber of Secrets

Dumbledore was amazing. Truly, the man had outdone himself. Never in the past decade had Severus had the misfortune of being on staff with a Defence professor so bloody annoying.

"… beauty of education!" Gilderoy Lockhart was waxing poetic to nobody in particular. "Look at them, all bright-eyed and shiny-faced, waiting to see what we teachers have in store for them this year. I wonder, do they know how fortunate they are to be here? Hands-on experience is a wonderful thing—I learned so much on my exploits, of course I did—but school, that's where you learn the fundamentals, the things I learned at Hogwarts are like rare jewels, they're precious."

Dumbledore was busy reading the Prophet, ignoring this display entirely. Minerva had finished her breakfast in record speed and excused herself, citing last-minute timetable preparations, although anybody who had been in the staff room with her late the previous night knew that timetables were already finalized.

"Is intelligence a tool you gained at Hogwarts?" Severus drawled, raising an eyebrow. "Because I do believe that jewel is so precious to you that you have locked it in a safe, never to be so much as glanced at again."

There was a sudden outbreak of muffled coughing from the other professors.

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore chastised, glancing up, "that was quite unnecessary." But his eyes were twinkling.

Neither Severus nor Lockhart got a chance to respond before Molly Weasley's irate voice filled the Hall.

"Ronald Weasley, how dare you, stealing the car, I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd expelled you, you wait till I get hold of you, I don't suppose you stopped to think what your father and I went through when we saw it had gone, we went home, and when we received a letter from Dumbledore last night, I thought your father would die of shame, we didn't bring you up to behave like this, you and Harry could both have died…"

Severus smirked. Molly may have been the epitome of a mother hen, but she was a formidable witch, a formidable woman when enraged. Weasley deserved every word of this Howler, and from the expression on Potter's face, Molly's words were drilling a sense of guilt into his head, too.

"... absolutely disgusted, your father's facing an inquiry at work, it's entirely your fault and if you put another toe out of line we'll bring you straight back home!"

Silence fell. The entire student body had turned to stare at the youngest Weasley boy. The red envelope in his hands burst into flames and disintegrated.

"Tut, tut," went Lockhart, as the noisy chatter of the hall climbed back up to its usual level. "A flying car is quite an entrance. I completely understand, of course—who wouldn't want to make such an entrance with me on the staff?" Severus caught Filius rolling his eyes at this. "I inspire people, I know that, with my fabulous adventures and the glamour of-"

There was a loud scraping sound as Pomona hastily pushed back her chair. "Well, I'll just be off to see about healing the Whomping Willow," she said, with a forced-looking smile. "I'd like to do that before my first class this morning."

"Ooh!" To her misfortune, Lockhart pushed back his chair as well. "I'll join you. You know, I encountered many rare plants on my travels, and I do seem to have a knack for healing things. Somebody once told me that I should have become a medi-wizard, but, well, I feel that teaching is my calling, helping those children who need a responsible role model like me. I leapt at the chance when Dumbledore offered me the job …"

Lockhart's voice faded away as he followed the Herbology professor, who looked distinctly unhappy about the company. The remaining faculty let out a silent, collective sigh of relief.

"Thank Merlin Defence professors only last a year," remarked Severus, pouring himself another cup of coffee. "He'll be gone before June."

His colleagues all looked cheered at the prospect.

Over the next week, Severus accumulated quite a bit of information on Gilderoy Lockhart. Many of the snakes were as disgusted with the new professor as their Head of House was. It seemed that he had given all years the same test during their first class with him, which quizzed the students on what toothpaste he used, what his favourite colour was, what coat he wore in Yetis on Yachts, and other inane details from his equally-inane books with the inane, alliterative titles.

"Who cares?" one of the sixth-year Slytherins had snorted back in the common room that day.

Who cares, indeed, Severus had thought.

He'd also heard that the man had unleashed a cage of Cornish pixies on the second-year class and then, when the bell rang, abandoned ship with the rest of the class. Honestly, some of his fifth-years had more sense than that, not to mention the ability to deal with Cornish pixies. Why Dumbledore had hired the fraud was a mystery.

Lockhart had apparently taken an interest in Potter, likely recognizing that the boy was—almost, although one could have a lengthy debate on that qualifier—as obnoxious and big-headed as he was. They had been on the front page of the Prophet together a bit before the start of term, in Flourish and Blotts, and Potter had looked miserable. Even the Boy Who Lived seemed to find Lockhart too much.

The best part of this was the fact that Minerva was giving Potter detention with Lockhart as punishment for the incident with the flying car. Severus had tried not to look too thrilled when she mentioned it to him. While he still thought that Potter should have been facing much harsher consequences, he couldn't deny that detention with Lockhart certainly sounded like punishment to him; and, given that he had one day seen the boy wonder duck behind a statue to avoid crossing paths with the Defence instructor, Potter probably thought the same thing.

October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Poppy was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students, and Severus was kept busy by her constant requests for more Pepperup Potion.

Aside from Potter and Weasley's bombastic arrival, the fact that Lucius had bought his son's way onto the Slytherin Quidditch team, and Lockhart's routine spewing of drivel, the term had been proceeding with a surprising lack of crises. Of course, the mundanity was too good to last.

The Halloween feast was just its usual misery: sugar, decorations, children, cheery people everywhere when there was absolutely nothing about which to be cheery. Anybody who enjoyed Halloween needed a reality check. It was after the feast ended that the real excitement began.

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

A large crowd had gathered, students on their way back to their dorms. Standing at the front of the spectacle was the "Golden Trio," as they had been dubbed. Filch was next to them, having hysterics over his cat, who was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. Mrs. Norris was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring. Granger looked disturbed, quite unlike her usual, hand-waving self, while Potter and Weasley looked shocked and uncomfortable. Draco, also at the front of the crowd, was grinning. Severus glared at him. Such an open display of emotion would get him into trouble.

"Argus!" Dumbledore was quick to assess the situation and interrupt. He detached the cat from the wall. "Come with me, Argus. You too, Mister Potter, Mister Weasley, Miss Granger."

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly. "My office is nearest, Headmaster—just upstairs—please feel free-"

"Thank you, Gilderoy."

Severus exchanged a look with Minerva as they followed Dumbledore, trailed by the Trio and Lockhart.

The Potions Master had not been in the Defence office since Lockhart had been hired, and upon seeing it, he wished that Dumbledore had simply taken them up to his own office. The place was filled with portraits of Lockhart, who were evidently as vain as the real wizard was, for they all rushed out of sight when the party came in, their hair in rollers and hairnets. Severus couldn't help but curl his lip in disgust, noticing that Minerva had a similar look of disdain on her face.

Dumbledore placed Mrs. Norris on the desk, leaning over to inspect her. Minerva followed suit. They spent quite a while examining the frozen cat, while Filch sobbed in the background and Lockhart prattled on with commentary that everybody ignored. Severus hung back, a wonderful thought occurring to him: He might be able to use Potter's unfortunate timing to get the boy into trouble.

"She's not dead, Argus," Dumbledore finally said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.

"Not dead?" choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris. "But why's she all—all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been Petrified"—Dumbledore ignored Lockhart's exclamation of, "Ah! I thought so!"—"but how, I cannot say."

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

The thought that Potter could have been capable of such magic was laughable.

"No second-year could have done this," Dumbledore said firmly, echoing Severus's opinion. "It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced-"

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

That is not a difficult deduction to make, with a bit of- oh right, most people don't possess logic.

"I never touched Missus Norris!" Potter said defensively. "And I don't even know what a Squib is."

"Rubbish! He saw my Kwikspell letter!"

"If I might speak, Headmaster," Severus interrupted the argument before it could escalate. "Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why were they in the upstairs corridor at all? Why weren't they at the Halloween feast?"

The three children broke into a jumbled explanation about Nearly-Headless Nick's Deathday Party.

"But why not join the feast afterwards?" Severus interrupted. "Why go up to that corridor?"

Granger and Weasley both looked at Potter.

"Because- because- because we were tired and wanted to go to bed."

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

"We weren't hungry," Weasley said. His stomach promptly contradicted him by rumbling loudly.

"I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful. 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," Minerva spoke up 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."

Severus rolled his eyes. Quidditch fanatics. Of course she'd say that.

Dumbledore gave Potter a searching look. Then, "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus."

Damn. It had been worth a shot.

"My cat has been Petrified!" Filch started shrieking again. "I want to see some punishment!"

"We will be able to cure her, Argus," Dumbledore said, with astonishing patience. "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made which will revive Missus Norris."

Oh, more work for him. Fantastic. Although, he would rather do it than have-

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

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

There was a tense pause.

"You may go," Dumbledore said to the Trio, who all but ran from the room. He then sent Minerva to take Filch's cat to the hospital wing and update the rest of the staff, thanked Lockhart for the use of his office, and told Severus to meet him in fifteen minutes.

"Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans," Severus said, huffing slightly at the password. The gargoyle moved aside, and Severus ascended the stairs.

Dumbledore was already there, standing in front of a bookshelf, his back to the door. "You don't honestly believe that Harry is at fault for Petrifying Missus Norris," he said without turning.

"No," Severus admitted grudgingly, "although he was acting guilty about something."

Dumbledore made a noncommittal humming noise. "Tell me what you know of the Chamber of Secrets," he said.

Severus crossed his arms. "Only what legend says, that it was built by Salazar Slytherin, only to be opened by his heir, and that it holds a monster to eradicate muggleborns. The school has been searched many times, though, and there is no hint that such a chamber actually exists."

Finally, the Headmaster turned to look at the younger man. "True, but this was no school prank."

The small part of Severus which had been holding out hope for this to all be a tasteless joke vanished at the look on Dumbledore's face.

"I'm afraid we have a very serious problem on our hands."