A/n: I finally finished this chapter, I had to do a lot of story boarding and planning for later convenience so it might not show immediately.

Disclaimer: *Ygritte Voice* You own nothing Azorrah Lee.

"Wait a second," Kurt was trying to wrap his head around what had become of their lives, "Harry is hearing voices now? What happened to being normal this year?"

"This from the person whose burning people's faces off?" Hermione chuckled.

Ron was quick to come to his best friend's defence, "He hasn't heard the voice since, so he isn't crazy."

"So you're all going to talk about me like I'm not here?" Harry demanded the attention of his friends but they didn't pay him much mind.

"He said the voice was out to kill and now we're on our way to a death day party," Hermione pointed out to Ron, "he seems to have some odd fixation with death if even the voices in his head are talking about it."

"You should see the school councillor," Kurt suggested as they navigated their way to the dungeons, "talking to a qualified adult about it is clearly the only way to resolve this."

"Talk to an adult?" Ron exclaimed, almost biting Kurt's head off in sheer revulsion, "they don't send the criminally insane to St. Mungo's, that's a one way ticket to Azkaban."

"Harry hasn't committed any crimes," Kurt countered in a sharp snappy tone, "they don't send crazy people to Azkaban, I'm sure there's some kind of psychiatric ward at St. Mungo's."

"You're talking about having him committed," Ron whined as though Kurt had been suggesting putting Harry to sleep, "this is Harry, he's not crazy."

Kurt countered in the same breath, "This is Harry, not just anyone survives an attack by a dark wizard as formidable as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and walks away without any long lasting-"

"He has the scar!"

"It hasn't healed, it's a gash!" Kurt heard himself snap, "I was talking about repressed psychiatric trauma."

Hermione cleared her throat loudly, "you two are being insensitive, Harry was probably just exhausted and his imagination got the better of him."

"If that's the case then a psychological evaluation wouldn't hurt, Dr Rhodes has a PhD from oxford. Harry," Kurt spoke firmly, "What do you think?"

"What do I think about what?" he spoke without looking up from his feet in a distant tone before shaking himself into the moment, "I agree with Hermione."

"And what exactly did Hermione say?" Ron crossed his arms indignantly as he scowled at Hermione who was preening in the moment.

Harry stammered for a moment, "Hermione is logical, she probably made the most sense," Kurt furrowed his brow and stared death over the rim of his spectacles, "I know Kurt is paranoid and would rush to assume the worst, Ron just wants to have fun."

"He has you pegged with that paranoia," Hermione giggled.

"How so?" Kurt raised a curious brow.

"Please share, why is it you're still wearing your spectacles?" she smirked victoriously.

"Well, I had sand particles in my eye, and I'm waiting to see if it will progress into an eye infection because then I'd hate to aggravate it further or maybe I scratched my cornea and I'm slowly going blind," Kurt stopped mid rant and shrugged as he mulled the honesty over, "I'll accept."

"Besides," Harry rolled his eyes with a small smile, "Kurt, you hear voices all the time and you don't see us committing you."

"I do not hear voices," Kurt squealed two octaves higher than usual before lowering his voice, "I hear voice, singular, and it is Finn's voice not that of a disembodied murderous whisperer. Besides, telepathic links are common among siblings; it has even been noted to occur in muggles."

"Harry's right Kurt," Ron nodded rapidly, "if anybody here's crazy it's you."

"The paranoia and the voice, I can fess up to," Kurt stopped before the great dungeon door, "but I am not crazy."

Kurt swung the heavy doors open and he had to admit that he was quite disappointed; he'd always assumed that when the dead partied they woke… well, they woke the dead but instead there was only a low high pitched drone that had the faint semblance of Mozart. The room was crowded to the nines with ghosts, they were floating about in what appeared to be a waltz in time to the monotonous droning they were passing off as music.

"It is evident, death day parties aren't celebrations," Hermione quipped with a defeated sigh.

Nearly Headless Nick came over to greet them with a broad smile, "Harry, Ron, Hermione! So glad you could make it, oh you brought a spare."

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, pleased to make your acquaintance." He smiled broadly but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Wicked setup Sir Nicolas," Ron exclaimed upon noticing the decadently laid out buffet and making a b-line across the dance floor.

"Excuse Ron," Kurt looked at the retreating redhead and rolled his eyes, "He's yet to be on the receiving end of a lesson on manners."

With the off key drone of Mozart in the background they strode across to the buffet table in front of which Ron had come to a sudden stop. As Kurt approached, the acrid stench of food that had long spoiled assaulted Kurt's sinuses. The buffet looked as though it had been laid weeks before the festivities by a too eager caterer, there were remains of what might once have been an impressive spread but it was now covered in an assortment of mould in all the colours of the rainbow and housed a caking of maggots beyond the healthy amount; the blue cheese had white veins peeping amongst the overgrowth of blue mould, the salmon was now a sickly sludge like grey that was festered with maggots, the leg of lamb looked to have re-grown its fleece.

"What on God's green earth is wrong with this lot?" Ron whined as he fell to his knees in front of the buffet of spoiled food and buried his face in his hands.

"No need for the dramatics," the Bloody Baron huffed at him, "Some of us don't have the luxury of being alive."

"Does that mean you have to punish those of us who do?" Ron bellowed thoughtlessly before realising to whom he was speaking, he cowered away and added a whispered, "Sir."

"Can you even eat the food?," Harry asked with a furrowed brow.

The Fat Friar floated through a grey looking roast beef with a longing sigh, "I can almost taste it, almost."

"So maturing the food must be so that the flavour is more pungent," Hermione spoke as though she had missed the most obvious thing on the planet.

"Well," the Fat Friar seemed defeated as he muttered the reply as he hungrily stared at the block of cheese, "it's supposed to."

"I'm going to take a stab in the dark and assume you loved food while you were alive," Ron had his thinking face on but the Fat Friar only raised an unimpressed brow, "Well imagine how you would have felt if there was a buffet of food you couldn't eat."

The ghost's round face turned dark and his eyes went wide, "That's how I feel now!"

His bellows shook the room and drew the attention of the entire room to the four students standing opposite two horrified ghosts, the Bloody Baron wordlessly laid a comforting hand on the Friar's shoulder before leading him off. The near silence that had washed over the room was broken by the bellowing of a distant foghorn; the attention of all the ghosts was immediately drawn to the group of five or so ghostly horseman that had burst through the dungeon's closed doors with their heads in hand.

"Oh," Nearly-headless Nick's voice was oozing malice, "They made it."

"Who are they exactly?" Kurt asked with his glossy eyes.

"The Headless Hunt," Sir Nicolas mumbles back.

"I'm into it," Kurt smiled broadly as they began a make shift game of polo, alternating the use of their heads as they boisterously stole the party, "Beheading just got sexy."

"That should be me!" the Gryffindor house ghost spoke through gritted teeth in an angry voice.

"Surely not," an elderly ghost with a horn hanging from his shoulder chortled as he shook the head from under his shoulder, "Pray tell Nicky, how is that when you don't qualify?"

"IT'S HALF AN INCH!"

"It's half an inch more than we require," the unknown ghost shrugged his shoulders as he replaced his head in its rightful place.

"Do they realise how wrong that sounds?" Ron chuckled earning him a disapproving stare from Kurt and Hermione.

"It's half an inch more than you'll have," Sir Nicolas smirked.

The other ghost's jaw dropped with disgust, "Really Nick, you wanna do this now? In front of the kids?"

"No time like the present."

"Well," the man smirked back, "If memory serves that extra half an inch didn't do you any favours."

"You bastard."

"Some might say it was wasted on you," the ghost was tossing head from one hand to the other as he spoke, "And now, half inch is holding you back from the true joys of the afterlife."

"You bitch!"

The ghost shrugged as his ghostly horse led him off, he turned his head a hundred and eighty to add an indignant "I tried to warn you."

"Who was that?" Ron asked but got no reply as Nearly-headless Nick trudged off.

"Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore," a high voice Kurt had spent his entire Hogwarts existence avoiding, "it's always so much fun to watch their stand-offs, Nick is always humiliated."

"Peeves," Kurt tried to keep his voice steady, "What did I tell you would happen the next time we saw each other?"

"Kurt, I didn't realize it was you but is Peeves not allowed to party?" the poltergeist narrowed queried with a smarmy half smile, Kurt narrowed his eyes and Peeves levitated backwards with wide-eyes.

"What did you do to poor Peeves?" Ron asked with wide eyes.

Kurt smiled broadly and adjusted his spectacles, "I simply told him a tall tale, with permission of course, that a certain bloody ancestor of mine would have him flayed and expelled from the school if he so much as looked at me."

"Prevention or treatment?" Hermione giggled sweetly.

"Prevention."

"Who's that he's pointing over here?" Harry's eyes were cautiously wide as he eyed the pair.

When Hermione's uttering of 'Moaning Mertyl' hit his ears, Kurt turned to Peeves but the Poltergeist was nowhere to be seen but Mertyl was floating toward them looking rather upset.

"Peeves told me all the terrible things you said about me," Mertyl looked on the brink of tears as she hiccupped the words to Hermione, "I don't know why you have to be so... awful to me."

Her face glistened with silver tears as she spluttered her feelings, "Mertyl," Hermione spoke consolingly, "We never said a thing against you."

"Liar," she screamed and once more the ghostly eyes were on the living, "I know your kind; giggling with boys, tucking your hair behind your ears and calling me..." she choked up, "Moaning Mertyl."

"Have we ever?" Kurt mimicked Hermione's maternal stance, "if anything we were telling Ron and Harry that we wished you'd worn your hair out of you face so people could really appreciate your radiance."

Harry nodded his agreement and when it looked the day was won, Ron chose that moment to add his two cents, "Fat chance with that skin but I could have left it at fat chance."

Mertyl gasped deeply with a horrified look on her face that was echoed by Hermione and Kurt, "See, I knew it."

Kurt watched her go flying out of the dungeon faster than his words could leave his throat, he turned to Ron with fire in his eyes, "Ronald Weasley!" his words shook the room like Mrs Weasley's howler, "You are going to apologise to that girl before this night is through or so help me God you will live to regret those words."

"Are you mad?" Ron scoffed, "She was like that when she came over."

"Do we injure the wounded?" Hermione scolded.

"Like hell am I going to apologise?"

"It could be like hell," He and Hermione added in chorus.

"Harry?" the dark haired boy chose his silences as wisely as he always did. Kurt pulled him to the door by the hood of his robes, "I'm coming, no need to manhandle me."

"This probably won't be the last time I hear those words," Kurt chuckled.

Hermione gasped with a wicked smile on her narrow face, "Nobody likes a dirty girl."

"Good thing I'm not a girl."

"Has anyone ever told you two that you're like a house on fire?" Harry chortled.

"We're hot?" Hermione asked.

"You can't stop looking at us?"

"Yes but no," Harry was drawing out his words for suspense when his toothy grin suddenly fell and he looked about searchingly to see a deserted corridor, "The voice, do you guys here it? The one from Lockhart's office."

"Finish what sounds to be turning into an insult," Kurt demanded angrily with throbbing ears, "We're like a house on fire, how so?"

"Can you not hear that?"

"All I can hear is you evading my question."

"I don't hear anything Harry," Hermione looked worried, "Are you sure you aren't hearing things again."

"I'm not imagining this!"

"Sure seems like it," Ron added before the remaining three stared him into silence.

"What was that?" Kurt quipped.

Harry looked at Kurt, "it's because you get on."

"Like a house on fire," Kurt face palmed and then his mind cleared enough for him to hear a distant grumbling "I think I hear it, your stomach is making a strange-"

Harry broke into a run, "It's not my stomach. Whatever it is, it's out to kill."

And for a moment as they went speeding off after Harry's imaginary disembodied voice, taking the stairs two at a time, Kurt thought he heard words too but immediately dismissed. When they came to the second floor landing the floors were flooded, "I hope this out of a tap."

"I second the motion," Hermione frowned as she held her robes off the ground.

Kurt and Harry went around the corner toward the source of the flooding and were greeted by a horrific sight; there were large bloody letters that said:

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

And beside them was Filch's cat, Mrs Norris, hanging from a sconce by her tail looking as stiff as though stuffed. Kurt surveyed the room and his eyes fell on the third eyesore of the corridor, a stone statue of Peeves looking mortified; Kurt let out a loud high pitched wail that caused his friends to cover their ears.

"The hell was that?" Ron demanded

"Somebody had scream or they'll think we did it," Hermione answered for him as he examined the statue closely, only the man was stone but his clothes were as they'd been at the death day party. As he examined the situation Ron noticed a line of spiders heading out the window that earned the group a blood curdling scream from the red-haired boy, the second of the night.

The Ravenclaws were first to arrive on the scene and it appeared rather suspect; Harry was standing near Mrs Norris with his hand extended toward her, Kurt peering curiously at Peeves whilst Ron had latched onto Hermione for dear life as he tried not to look at the spiders and she looked from one of her friends to the next. Rather quickly the whole school had filled the corridor and was studying the scene before them.

It was Filch who spoke first, pushing students out of his way as he fought his way to the front of the crowd looking down at the floor, "Great another mess for me to clean," he suddenly stilled as his eyes rested on the reflection of his cat hanging from the sconce, "That's my cat. Potter, you killed my cat!"

"I didn't do this," Harry pleaded as the man grabbed him roughly by the scruff of his neck.

"I'm going to kill you," Filch screamed angrily, "you dare put... put your grubby hands on Mrs Norris."

"It wasn't Harry!" Kurt heard his voice echo angrily over the murmurs but didn't remember speaking the words.

Filch and the rest of the school turned to see Kurt and the statue of peeves properly for the first time, "You done in Peeves too, can't say I'll miss him."

"He wasn't even in the first part of this fic."

In the chaos he heard Draco's voice ring true over the others as he'd finally made it to the front where he could see, "Enemies of the heir beware, you'll be next mudbloods."

"Clear the way, I'm a prefect." A second voice rang over the others, stifling the gasps solicited by Draco's comments; the blond boy smirked at Kurt knowing the boy couldn't get to him for that last comment. Percy Weasley turned to get the headmaster at the sight of the quartet but it seems he'd been long pre-empted as Professor Dumbledore materialized looking very worried.

"Prefects," the headmaster's voice echoed off the walls with a surety that the more experienced eye saw wasn't present in his face, "Take your houses back to their dorms."

"You three stay," Professor McGonagall stopped them as they retreated.

"There are four of us," Hermione tilted her head condescendingly, "Which one of us can leave?"

"Mr Weasley," Professor McGonagall's eyebrows almost touched her hair, "I didn't notice you there, I guess you can stay too."

"Thank you Hermione," Ron scowled.

"Why is it that whenever there is trouble, you four are always at the scene of the crime?"

"Because they done it!" Filch snivelled loudly, "It's those Potters, both of them! They killed my cat and they killed Peeves."

"I'm offended by what you're insinuating," Kurt proclaimed.

"They done it headmaster," Filch argued avidly, "they done it because I'm a squib."

"What's a squib?" Harry asked softly.

"Not the time or the place sweetheart," Hermione clasped her hand over his mouth.

"They aren't dead," Professor Dumbledore proclaimed but it didn't appear to ease his burdens but rather served to exacerbate them, "She's been petrified."

"I thought as much," Lockhart smiled and flicked a curl out of his face, "Pity I wasn't around, I know just the counter-curse that might have spared them."

"Counter-curse, hey?" Snape drawled with a slightly arched brow, "And what curse can do something like this?"

Kurt and Hermione's hands shot up but they were swiftly pulled down by Harry with a whisper of 'Not the time or the place'.

"I don't care how they did it!" Filch screeched, "Just wanna see some punishment."

Snape narrowed his eyes and swept them across the awkward quartet, "I think punishment would be out of order, it appears as though Potter and friends were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Professor Snape gets this," Kurt added releasing a breath he'd been holding too long, "There I was minding my own business when-"

"However," the dark haired man interrupted, "it is curious that none of you were seen at dinner."

"We were at Nearly-headless Nick's death day party," Harry said defensively removing Hermione's hand from over his mouth.

"We were on our way to bed," Hermione added cautiously.

"Off to bed without dinner?" Snape arched a brow with a sideways smirk, "Because if memory serves ghost don't serve food fit for human consumption at their parties."

"After seeing food like that," Ron grumbled, "Eating was the last thing on our minds."

"And you Mr Hummel," Professor McGonagall asked with pursed lips and a disapproving looks directed at Professor Snape, "A little far from the Slytherin Dungeon aren't we?"

"We're not exactly at Gryffindor Tower either but if you must know, I was escorting Ron to Mertyl's bathroom because he owes her an apology."

Professor McGonagall looked personally affronted by Kurt's reply and he was well aware how rude he had been but she didn't need to single him out as a Slytherin either; as such her next question seemed snarkier than usual, "Isn't that a girls lavatory?"

"That's what Hermione was for."

"Innocent until proven guilty," Professor Dumbledore said to the competing head of houses before turning to the rest of the staff, "Argus, Mrs Norris's condition is reversible we will get mandrakes and see that she is depetrified but in the mean time Professor Sprout's growth of Mandrakes must take precedence as a precaution. I urge the rest of you to go forward with caution though I pray it is not as I fear."

~0~

The rumour mill had not been kind, in the short time since the writing on the walls had appeared a number of theories had started circulating: a large group of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors had banded together against Kurt in next to no time; the theory was that Kurt had opened the Chamber of Secrets in a desperate attempt to get attention and to exact revenge on his enemies, he had apparently attacked Peeves because of their quarrel at the party and Mrs Norris to ensure there were no witnesses. A second large group that was predominantly Slytherins had begun spreading the inverse; they claimed Harry had done in Mrs Norris because he and Filch were at odds, he had then gone after Peeves because he had seen too much. The third rumour was the most malicious and easiest to believe; the quartet was sending a message to their enemies and intended to pick them off one by one.

Kurt looked at the length of empty bench space on either side of the quartet in the front of their history of magic class, for the first time he suspected that it wasn't because of Professor Binns, "I can't believe I have to deal with this," Kurt turned to the crowded benches behind them, "Do they seriously think we're going to attack somebody who sits next to us?"

"Who knows what they think," Finn chortled as he gave Kurt a wet willy.

"Finn!" Kurt boomed at his brother who was pretending to be reading his textbook with a goofy smile.

"Please don't petrify me," the boy jibed at him.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Kurt scowled at his brother, "but on the other hand, you are aware that I can set you on fire with a certain look. Also, I'm going to need my copy of Hogwarts: A History back before Hermione gets frown lines or worse, loses her hair."

"I'll bring it arou-"

"If you're quite done Mr Hummel," Professor Binns scowled, "My lesson has been well underway for a good four minutes and thirty-eight seconds."

"I'm sorry but if makes you feel any better it was a history related conversation," Finn spoke before Kurt could muster an appropriate response, "Kurt wants his copy of Hogwarts: A History so that he can read up on the Chamber of Secrets, can you tell us anything about it."

The elderly ghost looked shocked, probably that Finn was awake in his class, but he finally spluttered a reply, "The Chamber of Secrets is a myth and this subject is based on facts, so I am sorry but that simply won't do."

"But sir," Hermione was waving her hand in the air as she spoke, "the Chamber of Secrets is a medieval folk tale and retelling it might help us better understand the lives that people lived at that time and the moral convictions that drove them, is that not the point of history?"

Simply mentioning the writing on the wall had piqued the interest of every student present, Professor Binns knew immediately that there was no getting out of this one, "Very Well." He adjusted his spectacles and let out a tired sigh, "Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by the four brightest witches of the age; Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin."

"Salazar," Finn sniggered beside him.

"Now at the time each of the founders had an idea of how they wanted the school to be run; Gryffindor wanted to teach only those who displayed potential for bravery, Ravenclaw wanted to teach only those who possessed great intellect, Slytherin wanted to teach only the cunning and ambitious, whilst Hufflepuff's superior wisdom knew that they should teach all those who wanted to learn." Kurt could see the Hufflepuffs high-fiving about the classroom, "their next admission toil came from Slytherin; he believed that magical learning should be kept in all magical families- purebloods- but the other founders did not agree. Slytherin took that as a personal affront and decided to leave the school, legend says that before leaving the school he built a chamber and inside concealed a monster that could only be controlled by his true heir, a monster that would purge the school of all muggle born students." Both Kurt and Hermione's hands shot into the air the moment the professor stopped talking, "Yes, Miss..."

"Granger," Hermione shot Kurt a triumphant look before focussing on her question, "What monster is rumoured to be in the chamber?"

"The legend doesn't tell us this much but I assure you, both during and before my tenure at this school the school was searched and no such chamber was found."

"Professor," Kurt was waving his arm frantically in the air.

"That's enough on that," the man crossed his ghostly arms over his skeletal frame, "I will be taking no more questions."

"But Professor," Kurt whined.

"No more," the man's voice shook the classroom, "Little Miss, you might not be aware of this but I am hired to teach HISTORY OF MAGIC not to tell stories. Next you'll want me to read you The Tales of Beedle the Bard."

"That's not at all what I was saying," Kurt tried to argue his point, "I don't wish to hear anymore of the fairytale, I actually want to ask about the historical facts that surround the legend."

"Is it your desire to insight fear in your peers?"

"All Day, Every Day."

"You're insolence and back talk will not be tolerated in this classroom!" the man looked thoroughly ruffled but suddenly recomposed himself with a smile, "Let's make a deal; you ask your question and I give you detention, or you remain silent and I forgive this transgression."

"In the past have there ever been claims that the chamber of secrets was opened?" Kurt asked with an exasperated gasp.

"Never claims but rather erroneous rumours," the enchanted pair of hands that did all of Professor Binns's physical work handed Kurt a detention slip before returning to its normal duty as a scribe on the board, "Now, open your textbooks to page one hundred and fifteen before my lesson is highjacked again."

"Kurt," Finn whispered with wide eyes, "I thought you promised Burt you'd cut down on the detentions."

"I wouldn't have had to promise anything if you hadn't mentioned it."

"I said I was sorry," the boy whined.

"Water under the bridge," Kurt waved off the boy's desperate pleas for forgiveness, "Professor Binns is always confused about who I am, note that the detention slip is for Ruddy."

"Who is Ruddy?" Finn furrowed his brow.

Kurt shrugged, "Damned if I know."

The lesson didn't go on for much longer after that, and no sooner was it over that Kurt took off from the History of Magic classroom as fast as his feet would carry him, "Kurt, where are we off to?"

Kurt stopped in his tracks when he noticed that his brother was following him down the corridor, "I'm on my way to the library but I just realised that you have my copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them."

"Why do you need that?"

"Research."

Finn put his hands on his hips, "Aren't you going to elaborate?"

"No," Kurt pulled his brother along the corridors toward the library, "Not here at least."

"Look," Finn stopped and scratched his head, "I just remembered that I'm supposed to be meeting Cedric and the guys for quidditch practice, also I'm not into this Nancy Drew stuff you guys are always doing."

"How's about I do the 'Nancy Drew' stuff, you go off to your little practice and then you meet me in the library when you're done?" Kurt didn't wait for a counter offer, choosing instead to blow Finn a kiss from the bottom of the stairs across the foyer.

~0~

Kurt was settling in front of his pot for double Herbology when he felt a tugging on his sleeve, a note was stuffed into his hands and he promptly unfolded it:

'Where have you been? I need to talk to you, write me back.'

And it was signed 'Hermione J. Granger'.

"I'm right next to you," Kurt whispered in her ear, "I could just talk to you."

"Where have you been?" she hissed in his ear.

"The library," Kurt said it as though it was the most obvious answer one might consider but because they were who they were it was, "I was doing research."

"Research on what exactly?" Hermione furrowed her brow.

"The Chamber of Secrets, I'm trying to formulate theories," Kurt checked her for a fever, "Are you alright?"

"We're pursuing Ron's theory," Hermione sighed in defeat, "And it's not very good but Harry was on his side because he claims we under value his ideas and you weren't around to vote. It involves breaking more than a hundred school rules."

"How?"

"We're brewing polyjuice," she gritted his teeth, "he thinks Draco's the heir and recons he won't tell you so we're going under cover."

"Polyjuice potion takes forever to brew and where are we supposed to get the rare ingredients?" Kurt scowled across the class to where Ron and Harry were standing beside the Hufflepuff boys.

"We were going to steal it from Snape's store room."

Kurt's eyes went wide, "You have lost your minds, Snape is a very capable wizard and probably has some magical security system."

"We haven't got any other options at this point," Kurt gave Hermione a knowing look that she knew all too well, "You know something, what do you know? Is it something you learnt in the library?"

"No," Kurt smiled devilishly, "I learnt next to nothing in the library."

"Then what?" she raised her bushy brows angrily, "Out with it this instance."

"I have polyjuice," Kurt's smile grew as Hermione's pupils grew to the size of dinner plates and her jaw went slack, "I got it Japan, at that street market."

"Shut up."

"I bought it out of curiosity," Kurt shrugged innocently, "but I never got a chance to use it."

"Well, I guess I just got a month of my life back," she smiled broadly.

"We can spend it working on those eyebrows," he pursed his lips triumphantly.

"What's wrong with my eyebrows?" Hermione's hands shot up to her forehead defensively.

"So Ron and Harry think Draco is the Heir of Slytherin," Kurt diverted the conversation away from what was clearly a touchy subject, "How did they come to that conclusion."

"They seem to think he's the only one who is an adamant believer pure-blood supremacy at this school," Hermione didn't seem the least bit impressed by their skills of deduction, "I tried to tell them that he didn't have the balls for something like this but the fact that he read the writing on the walls out aloud had Ron sold."

"If only he had a brain," they added in chorus with a defeated sigh.

Hope you're all still enjoying the show.