Those- Who- Lived

Chapter Ten

Harry had always liked Valentine's Day for the ridiculous attitude the older students would acquire on that day. However, his amusement died horribly when he opened the door to the Great Hall and found the walls to be covered in lurid pink flowers. He gaped, and then weakly asked Neville behind him, "Please tell me I opened the wrong door."

Neville didn't answer, but instead paused, before he ducked his head and pushed Harry through. "Sooner we eat, sooner we can get away from all this."

"But why don't we visit the kitchens …" Harry whimpered.

"You want to be blindsided by whatever other torture he can come up with? I'll bet this ain't the worst of it that bozo's got planned." Neville grumped. He pushed Harry into his seat and took the place next to him. "Honestly, I'll bet the heir stopped just to spare his creature the shame of Lockhart trying to claim he killed the bloody thing."

Harry laughed weakly, and then quickly banished the confetti off the food he wanted. He glanced up at the teacher's table and looked back down with a shudder. Lockhart was positively hideous in pink. Harry didn't look up even though he knew Lockhart had stood.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-five people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging a surprise for you all and it doesn't end here!"

Harry thumped his head onto the table and muttered words under his breath he wouldn't have dared speak near his mother. Lockhart clapped, and the doors opened once more. Harry looked up out of morbid curiosity, and felt Neville bury his head against his back. Harry tried to shrug him off, but it was half-hearted at best as he stared in horror at the surly-looking dwarfs dressed in little wings with harps.

"My friendly card-carrying cupids!" Beamed Lockhart. Harry wished one of them would strangle the man already. They looked angry enough. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your Valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here." Neville smacked his head against Harry's back once more. "I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion. Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a love potion? And while you're …"

"Because they're unethical?" Harry muttered.

"And he'd feed you poison." Ron added dismally. "If only he'd poison Lockhart."

"Did he just say Flitwick knows entrancing enchantments?" Neville asked. "Good grief. Snape does look likely to feed someone poison. If only …" Neville looked skyward, and then winced at the confetti before returning to his meal.

Ron then looked over at Hermione, and asked, "Please tell me you weren't one of the forty-five."

Hermione snorted, "As if! That fool. He's arrogant and spiteful and completely fake."

The dwarfs barged into classes all day long, much to the teacher's annoyance, and late that afternoon one of them set it's sights on Harry. In front of a long line of first years, between classes, Harry heard his name come up, and immediately barged through to get away. The little creature, however, barked shins and elbowed through the crowd faster than Harry, and caught up with him.

"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person." The dwarf growled, and twanged its harp. Harry furiously tried to keep running, but the dwarf grabbed his bag to keep him back. Harry pulled for several moments, and then just let go. The dwarf tumbled head over heels, and Harry heard, to his dismay, something break inside. Terrified at the thought of his books soaking up ink, Harry leapt back to claim his bag, and furiously focused on saving his books, ignoring the irate dwarf who strung up his harp and determined to deliver the Valentine, whether Harry was paying attention or not.

"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard.

I wish he was mine, he's really divine,

The hero of my little world."

Harry felt himself go as scarlet as his ink, and continued emptying his bag with care. Fortunately, his snake book had been on the top, but at the bottom with his ink bottle were the Lockhart books, and the diary. The Lockhart books certainly weren't a loss, but Harry stared for several moments at the diary. There wasn't a drop of ink on it. So distracted was he, that Malfoy came upon him and snatched the diary out of his hands before he could react.

"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" Malfoy drawled. He apparently thought he had Harry's own diary, and waved it about rather carelessly. Harry hadn't before realized how much of a crowd he's gotten during the dwarf's serenade, but now he saw Malfoy and his goons and a large crowd of other students in addition to the first years. Harry also saw Ginny looked absolutely white, and that sealed it for him. Quickly cleaning his bag of the ink, Harry thrust his books back inside and stood, glaring at Malfoy. Just as Malfoy was about to make another comment someone behind him snagged the book out of his grasp and tossed it to Harry. Malfoy and Harry both looked, and found themselves faced with Zabini. Zabini carelessly yawned with obvious dramatics.

"The bell rang five minutes ago. You're holding up traffic with your little spat."

Harry hadn't thought Zabini could sound so cold, but he froze Malfoy where he stood. Harry, however, remembered that Prince hung out with him, and spared him no emotion as he turned and left. Once again, his mind drifted to the diary and it's apparently immunity to the ink, even as his feet led him promptly to his next class.

IIII

That evening, Harry tucked himself into the dormitory on the half-true excuse that he couldn't stand hearing one more line of that awful Valentine. However, he was more concerned with figuring out the diary Ginny had had. Harry fingered his two necklaces nervously as he sat, the diary open on his knees and his quill in his other hand. One necklace was his new one, from his father. The other was a replacement for the necklace that had broken last year, in the room with the Philosopher's stone, one that alerted his parents if his life was ever immediately threatened. Having it break last year had been horrible. If he had to go through another this year, he didn't know what to think. Dumbledore would likely get himself a howler in person from Lily, after she was through with Harry for stepping into the danger in the first place.

Harry shook the thoughts out and looked back down at the diary. He dipped his quill and dropped a spot onto the page. It glistened, and then sank into the paper. Frowning, Harry touched the quill down and drew a circle, and then sketched petals around it to make a flower. As soon as he finished pulled the quill away for more than a moment, it, too, sank into the paper. He found no reaction, and finally, hesitantly, he wrote onto the page, 'My name is James.'

He definitely wasn't going to write his real name to some enchanted book, no. The words remained a time, and then faded. However, shortly thereafter, letters drew themselves onto the page in his ink, words he hadn't written.

'Hello, James, My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?'

Harry stared a long time at the diary, even as the words faded back into the paper. Books were not supposed to talk back, and Harry was immediately on his guard. He was very, very glad he hadn't written his name down, and finally, after a time, he wrote back.

'It came into my hands from someone who didn't understand it.'

'That's a fair shame. I only want to help. There are things in here that might be a tad confusing, though. Things some people don't want known.'

'What might people not want known? Information is never evil.' Harry definitely didn't trust this diary, but he was also very curious. Did the diary remember Ginny? Did it think? And if so, what else could it do?

The writing returned, 'This diary holds memories of terrible things. Things which were covered up, which happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

Harry frowned. 'What kind of terrible do you mean?'

'There were attacks at the school upon the students. The Chamber of Secrets was found and opened, and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the perpetrator, and he was expelled, but the headmaster didn't want it known that the Chamber was real. The girl was said to have died in an accident, and the one who opened the Chamber was never imprisoned.'

Harry froze in place and stared. He'd presumed it had happened before, but … 'It's been opened again, the Chamber has. Who was it last time? What is the monster?'

'I can show you, if you like. My memory of the night I caught him. You won't have to take my word for it; you can see for yourself.'

Harry nervously chewed his lip as he fingered his snake necklace. 'Like a penseive?' He asked.

'Exactly like.'

Harry nervously brought his free hand up and nibbled his nails. He knew all about penseives; his mother had one and she'd used it before to show him some fun memories. He knew how to get in, and get out. He could back out, then, if he wanted to, from the memory. Harry sighed. If all else failed, he'd have to be fished out. Did he want to know bad enough to take this chance?

'I'd rather not.' Harry wrote. 'But I would like to know who. Surely you have his name, and at least a description of the creature.'

There was a longer pause than before, and then the writing came. 'All right. The one who opened the Chamber was a Rubeus Hagrid. The monster was a giant spider, an acromantula. He was the kind of boy who thought all animals were good, and sweet. But he'd let it out when he shouldn't have, so the trouble arose.'

Harry blinked. Somehow that made a disturbing kind of sense if he ignored the fact that acromantula couldn't petrify. Maybe it was just a similar situation? 'Thank you, Riddle. I think I need to check this out. I fear it might be happening just the same as before.'

'Glad to have helped, James. Good luck.'

The ink faded, and Harry closed the diary, feeling strangely spent. He tossed it down to the bottom of the trunk, and closed it tightly. Once closed, he leaned on the lid and scowled at his bed. Riddle must have either been wrong, or the attacks had been different. However, he now knew Hagrid must know something about the attacks himself, and Hagrid couldn't keep a secret. When Neville and Ron came back up the stairs, Harry turned to them firmly.

"We have to talk to Hagrid."

IIII

Convincing the others to ask Hagrid was a bit of a chore, but after a little cajoling, and a promise to find a way to make it up to him, the others followed him down the next weekend, and they knocked on the door and went in. Harry, by general consensus, was the one who would have to ask the question. It was his idea, after all.

"Hagrid …" Harry hesitated, and then swallowed. Okay, maybe blunt would work best. "You remember the attacks of fifty years ago. What do you know of them?"

Hagrid nearly broke a glass he jerked so hard, and he levelled a surprisingly nasty glare at Harry. Harry met his eyes calmly and returned, "I know it wasn't you who opened the Chamber; acromantula can't petrify. I found this diary that is enchanted; it was Tom Riddle's. He said you were the one, with an acromantula. He was wrong, clearly, but I want to know what you remember of that time. I – I want to make this all cleared up, and the sooner the better."

Hagrid stared at Harry for a long moment, and deflated. "I don't like talking 'bout it." He grumbled.

"So you're keeping quiet?" Neville snapped.

"I told Dumbledore everythin' I knew, of course!" He blustered. "I don't see why you need to know."

"Well is there anyone else we can ask?" Neville shot.

Harry gave Neville a long look, and then turned back to Hagrid. "What happened? Were the students petrified as they are now? And who died, and how?"

Hagrid rubbed his face carefully and sighed. "I don't know why you're so ruddy stubborn … just like your parents." Harry stiffened, and forced himself to relax. "It was all pretty similar. No notes, just students dropping stiff everywhere. Finally a girl died towards the end of the year, and Headmaster Dippet started talking of closing the school. I don't know how Riddle found out 'bout Aragog, but he came upon me and turned me in for it. Nobody believed me; I was always about with the creatures, and Riddle … he was a prefect, good grades, upstanding student who almost all the teachers liked. I don't know why he did that …"

Harry sighed. "I suppose. Anything else?"

Hagrid rubbed his hand over his face, and shook his shaggy head. "Nothing, really. Only student who might know more was little Myrtle." At their confused looks Hagrid sighed again. "She was the girl who died. Sweet thing, she was."

Harry gently placed his hand on Hagrid's arm, "I'm sorry we asked, Hagrid."

"'Tis alright, you know." Hagrid sighed. "I just … don't like remembering it."

Harry nodded once more, and looked to the others in concern. They didn't have to stare back at him like it was all his fault, though! How do you cheer up someone after a question like that? Harry didn't know, and settled for patting Hagrid on the arm in a hopefully comforting manner as Neville, Hermione and Ron shifted uncomfortably.

IIII

Easter holidays came and the decision about what subjects to take was upon them. Harry leaned back and glared at the subjects in question.

"I am not taking Divination, Ron." Harry repeated. "I have had enough of the insubstantial this year, and have no interest in learning it either. Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy are all I intend to work with, thank you very much."

Neville nodded and marked down both Arithmancy and Ancient Runes for himself, passing up Care of Magical Creatures and Divination entirely. Ron looked between them rather helplessly, before he sighed and wrote himself in for Divination and Care anyways. "What are you taking Hermione?"

"Everything." She announced. Harry gave her a sidelong look, and Neville queried,

"Everything? No offence, but … how? I don't think you'd like Divination anyways. And why are you considering Muggle Studies? Your parents are muggles! Wouldn't it make sense to just leave those alone?"

Hermione slammed her notebook shut and glared at him. "Well, pardon me. I think I'll be taking care of my work as I want to, whether you have an opinion or not. It's my choice." She stood and stormed off, and Neville looked over at Harry and shrugged.

"Maybe she's PMSing?"

Harry snorted and Ron gaped. "That was couth, Neville." Harry added. Neville shrugged, and looked his way.

"I thought you were mildly interested in Divination?" Neville asked. "Why'd you choose not to take it?"

Harry shrugged, and glanced around the common room. Seeing no one nearby, Harry leaned over to Neville, "After finding a diary enchanted to talk back, I want to stick with stuff I can see right under my nose. If I get really curious, I can ask my mum to teach me. She knows the basics I'd need, and she probably will teach better than anyone else anyways."

"You haven't written in that diary again, have you?" Neville asked, worried. Both of them heard a gasp from behind their chairs, and several students across the room yelped, one shouting, 'Watch it!' Neville and Harry looked up in time to see robes whip up the girl's staircase. Harry's eyes were narrowed and tight, and Neville worried his lip. Ron sighed.

"That was probably Ginny."

Harry nodded slowly, and glanced up the stairs. Ginny's attitude had not improved even since she'd handed over the diary. Indeed, she seemed even more anxious and distracted than before, and she was regularly sending him nervous, or even frightened glances. Harry didn't understand it.

"You should destroy it." Neville added. "Burn it, or hand it over to a teacher. They're more likely to be able to disenchant it than you are, and maybe they could use the information it has. You can find out why it lied to you, or why Riddle thought Hagrid was at fault."

Harry hummed noncommittally. Neville shook his head once more and bent to make a few more marks on the paper, muttering under his breath.

IIII

Quidditch practices continued, and Gryffindor's next match was against Hufflepuff. Practices had been as gruelling as usual, and the night before the match, Harry returned to find his dorm pulled apart, his trunk's contents strewn about the room. Harry paled, and quickly, he, Neville and Ron began to put it back together. A glance inside settled Harry's immediate worry about his nice robes, which were still settled neatly on the bottom, but that only highlighted that the diary wasn't inside. Once everything was gathered, his Lockhart books in even more disarray than they had managed to be before, it was undeniable.

"The diary is gone." Harry whispered to Neville. Neville paled. "And someone from Gryffindor stole it."

"Ginny?" Neville asked, his eyes flicking to Ron.

"It doesn't seem like her, to drag everything about like that, though."

"Harry, she hasn't been herself all year." Neville returned. "She's not been herself since we saw her on the train."

"I thought it was a crush. She was really shy around me."

"And her shyness around me?"

"You're my best friend, Neville."

Neville shook his head. "I don't like this. We should tell a teacher."

Harry immediately vetoed it. "How about we ask Hermione to approach Ginny about it? If she doesn't get anything, we'll … continue after the match."

Neville looked at him for a long moment, and then sighed. "Alright. I doubt … much will happen in the meantime."

Harry smiled wanly. "Thanks."

Neville's look, however, told him he still wasn't comfortable with it.

IIII

The next day was, to quote Wood, 'perfect Quidditch weather'. It was brilliantly sunny, and a light breeze lifted the leaves outside. Harry laughed and enjoyed the morning, sitting calm and relaxed at the table, trying not to think about Hermione's report of the night before. She had spoken to Ginny, and Ginny had immediately spooked, and then broken down crying at the mention of the diary. Neville was now shooting glares at Harry from farther down the table. Harry had once more insisted they wait before reporting the problem with the diary, and now Neville was once more not talking to him. But not talking didn't make his glares lessen any.

Neville did trail him, Ron, and Hermione, though, as they left to fetch his Quidditch things. Neville walked straight into his back when he stopped dead, hearing a voice drift sibilantly through the walls.

'Kill this time … let me rip … tear …'

"What the bloody Hell?" Harry spat. He stared at the wall beside him in shock, and Neville spoke first.

"What?"

"I just … you didn't hear that? No voice, nothing?"

Neville watched him carefully and shook his head. "I heard nothing. Ron? Hermione?" Both of them shook their heads, and Hermione gently tapped her lip.

"Harry, are you sure you heard it?"

"Yes!" Harry insisted. "It was as clear … well, it was kinda muffled, like it was moving through the wall … it was really low, too, slurred …"

Hermione tapped his lip once more, and then gained a determined set to her face. "You go on, I'm going to the library."

"Hermione, you'll miss the match and you shouldn't go alone!" Neville yelled after her. He turned and sighed. "Harry, just get on the pitch already. I'll go make sure she remains safe."

Ron grabbed Neville's shoulder. "I'll go. You go with Harry." He didn't wait for an argument and ran after Hermione, yelling at her to wait up. Neville watched him go, and looked back at Harry with amusement. Once they looked at each other, though, Neville's face became set in an angry mask, and he stormed off in front of Harry.

Harry sighed. Neville was still angry with him, then. Harry wasn't so sure he blamed him, either.

The teams were done warming up, and the match promised to be excellent, but Harry saw McGonagall with a large purple megaphone before she was fully on the pitch. His hearted dropped, and he was seized with fear. He didn't listen as she announced the match was cancelled, and instead looked among the Gryffindor stands. He found Neville, and to his horror, Neville was looking as frantically as he was. They seemed to conclude the same thing at once: Ron and Hermione were still absent. Harry ran over to McGonagall as she finished ordering Wood off to the common room. McGonagall saw him coming, and seemed to deflate. Harry tried to breath clearly, but found it difficult, and he followed her in painful silence. Neville caught up in short order, and placed his hand lightly on Harry's shoulder in support as they were led into the castle and up the stairs.

"This will be a bit of a shock." McGonagall began, but Neville cut her off.

"It was Ron and Hermione, wasn't it?" He asked, his voice dead. McGonagall looked at him and he shrugged. "They'd gone together to the library. They weren't back at the match when you came out. You called me and Harry over, their best friends. I can see why you didn't want Fred and George and them first. And we do need to talk to you once we get up there." Neville's look to Harry left it indubitable what they were going to discuss.

Inside the hospital wing, Hermione and Ron were on beds next to one another, their expressions open, glassy, and shocked. McGonagall picked up a small circular mirror from the table between them.

"I don't suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them."

Neville looked at it several moments, and Harry shrugged helplessly. He was feeling very cold right then, and desperately wishing he could be anywhere else. Neville turned to him, and then directed him into a chair before he pulled McGonagall farther away and began to talk to her in a hurried voice.

"McGonagall, a while ago, Ginny came to me, Harry and Ron with worries about a diary she'd found among her things. Apparently it was enchanted to respond back when she wrote in it, but when me and Harry asked her she said she couldn't remember what happened when she wrote in it. It was also completely empty. Later on, Harry found out it absorbed ink through an accident, and wrote in it. A boy named 'Tom Riddle' wrote back, and offered to let him view a memory as though it was a penseive. Harry refused, and Riddle said he knew about the Chamber of Secrets. His information was wrong, but still … a diary that writes back is worrisome, and I don't like it. I wanted to hand it in immediately, but Harry made me wait."

Harry glanced up and found McGonagall looking pale. She carefully asked, "I believe handing that diary in would be a very wise choice. Where is it?"

Neville flinched. "Well, you see … Harry's trunk got broken into last night and ransacked. The diary was taken. It had to have been someone from Gryffindor; no one else should know the password. We half thought it might be Ginny, but we don't know. Sorry." Neville quietly scuffed his foot on the floor, and McGonagall pinched her nose with a tense expression.

"I see. We'll glance through her things, then, once I take you up there. Follow me, please."

McGonagall left, Neville tailing her eagerly. They were at the door before they noticed Harry hadn't followed. McGonagall looked over at him where he sat, staring absently at Hermione's frozen hand, and she walked slowly back over, placing her hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry looked slowly up at her.

"Mr. Potter … Harry, you may remain here for the moment. Please check with Percy about the new rules when you return to the tower. I'll give you time to calm down, then."

Harry nodded dully. He didn't notice when McGonagall shut the door, and didn't react for a long time. Hermione and Ron were petrified. First year, someone apparently kept attacking a student and Dumbledore did nothing. Prince had unintentionally let that slip in one of the times they talked, that Quirrel had attacked him several times. Then, Harry and his friends found out far more than they should have about the Philosopher's Stone and then easily passed traps that should have stopped far older and more skilled wizards. Finally, that summer, some parents tore clean into Dumbledore about him trying to use their nephew. Harry felt like his world was crumbling around him. Dumbledore was supposed to be powerful, and capable of taking care of all of them. Now, he was allowing this mess with the Chamber to occur and he was doing nothing. Why didn't he just drag that Tom Riddle in once more? He had to have known something; the attacks must have stopped. But clearly he implicated the wrong person. Unless the students weren't petrified – but Hagrid had confirmed that! – clearly someone wasn't telling the truth. It couldn't have been an acromantula. What was he missing?

Harry couldn't find an answer, and finally stood. Stroking a hand down Hermione's still arm and Ron's leg in turn, Harry walked firmly out of the hospital wing and turned to go to Gryffindor tower. The first door he passed was half open, and as he walked by, someone grabbed his arm firmly and pressed a hand against his mouth. Harry wrenched away and spun, stopping when he recognized the one who had grabbed him.

"Prince! What do you think you're doing?" Harry hissed.

Prince dragged him into the room with a firm glower, and pulled the door half-shut. It only worked because Harry wasn't fighting him; Prince was still much smaller than him.

"I needed to find you. Have you heard any inexplicable voices in the hallways lately? Any at all, with no apparent source?"

Harry stared at Prince for several long moments before nodding. "It was talking about killing."

Prince ran his fingers through his hair and muttered under his breath. He turned his dark eyes back on Harry with a fierce look. "I heard it today, just after the match was cancelled, on my way downstairs. I'm almost dead certain it was parseltongue, a snake. Blaise didn't hear it at all."

"Neither did Ron, Neville, or Hermione." Harry whispered. "Only us. Parselmouths. Hermione ran off to the library right after that. That's why she was caught."

Prince whipped his head around to face Harry, and mouthed something Harry was sure was uncouth. "Hermione was petrified?"

"Ron as well." Harry added.

Prince began to shift uneasily before he gave up and began to pace. "So we're hearing a snake inside the walls. Only we are hearing it. People are being petrified. What snakes can petrify?"

"Only basilisks." Harry returned. Prince eyed him. "I've checked every book I know. The only other thing that can petrify are Gorgons, and they wouldn't be speaking such coherent parseltongue, only their hair would."

Prince nodded slowly. "So the monster's a basilisk. Shouldn't be too surprised, this is Slytherin's room. So, all I know is that it's not happening from Slytherin. I've checked, Snape has checked. All students are accounted for at the times before, after, and during the attacks." Prince noticed Harry's awed stare and grimaced. "We're not trusted. Snape is expected to keep a careful watch, and Dumbledore wants regular reports. Whoever is opening the Chamber, they are from one of the other houses."

Harry stared long and hard at him, and whistled through his teeth. "Ouch."

Prince nodded, and slowed his pacing. "You like sticking your neck out. Have you found out anything about this?"

Harry nodded slowly. "I came to the basilisk conclusion, and we've taken a bit of a look around. Most substantial thing, though, was this diary. It's fifty years old, and the boy remembered the last time the Chamber opened. His memories are in there, I think. Something almost like a penseive. He was the one who caught out Hagrid and made them expel him on the charge, but it wasn't Hagrid letting out the creature. Hagrid was in possession of an acromatula, not a basilisk. Acromantula do not petrify, so Tom Riddle was wrong."

"You said it was a diary? You trusted an enchanted object?"

Harry scowled at Prince's scepticism. "I didn't trust it, but I wanted to know what it did. I didn't give it my name or any information about myself. Just a fake name and a short thought about our situation."

Prince slowly nodded. "Fine. Anything else?" Harry shook his head. "Nothing else at all?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "The girl who died was named Myrtle."

Prince rolled his eyes in turn. "Fine, then. Lets hope everything gets cleared up soon. We'll be missed if we're not back shortly. You can always find me in the library if I'm there."

"Course, Prince, course." Harry answered. He split off from Prince and made his way up the stairs to the common room. Harry arrived in time to see the chaos within spill out the door as McGonagall pulled Ginny along behind her. The girl was wailing painfully, and McGonagall finally turned to her on what seemed to be her last straw.

"Ms. Weasley, you will come along quietly, or I will be forced to bespell you. You have tried my patience far enough."

Ginny continued screaming. McGonagall pointed her wand at Ginny, and a silent red spell shot out, and Ginny went limp. McGonagall saw him where he was as she picked Ginny up into her arms, and she raised her chin shortly.

"Continue on inside Mr. Potter. Curfew has been raised."

Harry didn't ask and slipped in quickly, looking around the stunned common room before joining Neville by the fire. Percy sat down before he could start talking, and Harry patiently listened to the list of new restrictions. Once that was done, he and Neville both were too tired to do anything but retire to bed. Plans and discussions would wait until morning.

IIII

Morning, however, was a bittersweet event. The immediate announcement at breakfast was that Dumbledore had been suspended that evening, and Hagrid taken away. Despite Harry's misgivings about Dumbledore's competency, he was still terrified that Dumbledore was gone. A meddlesome old man or not, people still feared him. Removing Dumbledore was as good as giving the Heir full leeway to wreak havoc. A cold, icy feeling settled into Harry's stomach and he stopped eating immediately. Neville followed suit. When Harry left, Neville trailed after him. Partway through the halls, however, Prince strode by them, and then tripped, dropping his bag and losing several books and pieces of parchment. He swore, and gathered it back up. The action was so incongruous with what Harry knew of him, that Harry stopped to watch him for several moments, before turning idly away. Neville, however, was apparently paying more attention than he was, and, as Prince stood up to stride angrily off down the corridor, Neville poked Harry and bent to retrieve a paper from the floor.

"He forgot this." Neville helpfully said. Harry reached over and took it, before opening it and reading the note inside, Neville looking over his shoulder.

'I'm not heading to class; I think we overlooked something, Potter.'

Neville stepped back to look at Harry carefully. "Since when?"

Harry shoved the paper into his pocket. "Early this year, when I was avoiding Lockhart, I happened upon him in a little-used corner of the library, okay?"

Neville closed his eyes and mouthed several things to himself. "Well, apparently he knows something and … you were discussing the attacks, weren't you?"

Harry sniffed. "Well, yeah. He's how I knew it wasn't Malfoy, and it's not any of the Slytherins. I … I trust him, somewhat. Enough that he's being truthful on this. He wouldn't lie about something so important."

Neville gave him another calculating look and then shrugged, hefting his rucksack on his shoulder. "Fine, then. If you're doing something about the attacks, someone needs to listen, provide a voice of reason, and then fetch the teachers while you stick your neck out. Lead on."

Harry looked over at Neville for several long moments. Neville really was confusing him at the moment, but he gave up on trying to understand, and only crumpled the paper and walked swiftly towards the library, breaking out of the group of Gryffindors with ease and stalking on to the realm of books. He found Prince's corner easily and slipped back there, Neville hanging back. Prince eyed him carefully before speaking.

"What's Longbottom doing here?"

Harry shrugged idly, stifling his unease. "Backup. He thinks I'm going to be doing crazy stuff and insists on following so as to make sure that once I start in on it, he can leave and fetch the teachers while I stick my neck out."

Prince cracked a smile as he listened. "A pragmatic Gryffindor?"

Neville merely inclined his head, and shrugged. "I like being in one piece. What idea attacked you to get you to skip class?"

"I was thinking the same of yourself," Prince returned, "but I was thinking of the person Potter had mentioned that died: What Myrtle do you know of in the castle?"

Neville frowned and Harry echoed his expression. "None, why?"

Prince looked between them. "There's a ghost in the second floor bathroom, a young ghost named Moaning Myrtle. The girl was killed in the castle wasn't she? And the Bloody Baron told me she'd been here for fifty years."

"The Chamber was last opened then …" Harry whispered. "You think she's …"

Prince nodded. "And we might as well go ask her. There won't be as many students about, right now, since it's class, so we can get down there easy without that group. And the other thing is that that message? It was right outside her bathroom."

Harry paused, and slowly nodded. "That … Let's go."

Harry stepped towards the bookshelves, and then bowed Prince past. Prince took the gesture with a smile and passed both him and Neville to lead the way out and down the stairs. Harry and Neville followed, Neville several feet behind Harry, watching the surroundings warily. They slowly came around, and then passed into the corridor by the message. However, they didn't expect to see a new addition. Prince stopped and stared, and Harry and Neville looked past him with a sinking sensation.

HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER

"What …"

"He struck again." Prince whispered. "Oh, Merlin, Mary, and Morgan."

"This is not cool." Neville murmured. "So … Myrtle? Can we? And then report what all we know?"

Prince nodded slowly, and, after seeing Harry's glassy look, grabbed his shoulder and dragged him into the bathroom with the 'Out of Order' sign. Once inside, he released Harry and strode farther in. "Myrtle? Would you like to talk?"

A chubby, bespectacled female ghost floated out from one of the stalls and sniffed at them. "You're all boys. What are you doing in here?"

Prince gave her a disarming smile that Harry absently thought was rather incongruous on his face. However, it seemed to work wonders on Myrtle's demeanour, as did his choice of words.

"We were wondering about how you died, Myrtle."

Myrtle's face lit into a bright smile. "Oh, it was terrible!" She said with relish. "It happened right in here, this very cubicle. I was hiding because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and then I heard somebody come in. They must have said something in a different language, but whoever they were was also a boy. I unlocked the door to go and tell him to go use his own toilet, and then –" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining, "I died."

Neville coughed lightly, but Harry managed to keep himself looking interested while Prince looked just as attentive as before, if not more so. "That's so sad, Myrtle." He said, sounding excited. "Was there anything else?"

"No, not really." She said, disappointed. "I just remember seeing a pair of great big, yellow eyes before my body seized up and I was floating away … but then I came back. I wanted to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she ever teased me about my glasses."

"Where were these eyes?" Prince queried. His interest was unfeigned now, and Harry felt the same."

"Somewhere over there." She waved negligently to the sink before her toilet. Prince glanced back at Harry before striding to the tap and examining it. Finally, he looked at the side and called Harry over. Harry went, noticing Neville edge towards the door of the bathroom once more, and looked where Prince pointed. Scratched on the side of one of the copper taps was a tiny snake.

"That tap's never worked." Myrtle offered helpfully. Prince nodded absently, and then paused, glanced at Harry, and spoke. Harry clearly heard the hissing this time, and just as clearly, he understood it.

"Open."

The sink sank beneath the floor, revealing a large hole in the wall behind it, leading into a deep pipe. Prince froze and stared, glancing nervously back at Neville.

"Well. I think we found the Chamber of Secrets."

A/N: Well, things should continue on Thursdays once more ... Please feel free to point out any inconsistencies in my writing, and I will try to straighten them out. Thank you for reading, thanks even more for everyone who's reviewed.

Fire & Napalm