Chapter 8: The Chamber of Secrets

There had been several times when Harry had been intensely grateful for his powerful magic. It had, on a number of occasions, saved his life. Had he been conscious directly following his first encounter with Tom Riddle, he would undoubtedly have been extremely grateful once more. The feeling wouldn't have lasted, not even for a minute, as his body was twisted and contorted into shapes it shouldn't have been able to achieve, his magic running free, healing all his physical injuries. Had someone been performing Legilimency on him, they would have seen tendrils of magic lashing out at the magic of the Memory Charm Riddle had place on him, albeit to no avail. Riddle had, in effect, been casting with two magical cores to power his spell, and even as a teenager he had been more powerful than Harry. The charm would only be destroyed with the destruction of the diary. Regardless, mere minutes after Riddle had fled, after the Basilisk had returned to its lair, Harry's ribs had healed, and he was lying there without a scratch.

This would later turn out to be rather unfortunate.

Harry came to to the sound of people shouting, and a few screams. People were staring at him, pointing, scared looks on their faces. He couldn't for the life of him work out why; had he done something? Lost control of his magic? Why were they staring at him? He sat up slowly as someone grabbed him by the shoulder. It was Draco, whispering urgently into his ear, but Harry was still too dazed by – what? He couldn't remember! – to take any notice.

Then he saw the wall, and Mrs Norris.

It came flooding back to him, up to a point. He had left the party and then – that voice. He had followed it and then… Nothing. He had been obliviated. Draco was still whispering in his ear, something about getting Harry away from there.

And then the crowd fell silent, as Dumbledore strode through, followed by the other staff. His expression was grave. He stood in front of the wall, staring at the message. Harry stared at him, the threat reflected in his headmaster's glasses, and as he looked, he felt a distinct sense of disquiet. Dumbledore was worried. Worse, he was puzzled. He clearly did not understand what had happened. Then Dumbledore turned away from the wall, to examine Mrs Norris, and the look was gone, replaced by a comforting expression for the students. Beside him, Filch was sobbing hysterically. As Harry watched Dumbledore study the eerily still cat, he became aware that people were still watching him. He looked over his shoulder, and was shocked at the expressions on people's faces. Fear. Anger. Hate. They blamed him for this! Draco was still standing beside him, a look of concern on his face.

"What happened Harry? We all heard something, and when we got here you were lying on the floor."

"I don't know… I was heading back upstairs when I – I heard something, and… There's nothing, I can't remember anything after that Draco!"

Draco frowned, and put his hand on Harry's shoulder, trying to comfort him. Harry's gaze flickered across the crowd again, and noticed Nott staring at him appraisingly. Harry looked away quickly, and his gaze met some Hufflepuff students. Smith was there, a sad expression on his face. By contrast, Ernie Macmillan, a rather pompous second year, had a smug, triumphant expression, as if he had been vindicated in something. Suddenly, Hermione and Neville burst through the crowd, hurrying over to Harry, anxious expressions on their faces. They stopped, taking in the message on the wall in horror. As they took in the scene, Harry heard Dumbledore call his name. He turned around to see the headmaster looking at him, a refreshingly gentle look in his eyes.

"Perhaps you can tell us what happened Harry?"

Filch span round, pointing at Harry.

"I'll tell you what happened! He attacked her, he tried to kill her! He – he knows I'm a squib!"

"No, I didn't do anything, I don't even know what's happened to her!"

"She has been Petrified Harry; and I do not believe that Harry could have done this Argus. It is magic far beyond any student, let alone a second year, and it would require an enormous amount of power to cast the spell. Again Harry, could you tell me what happened?"

"I – I don't know sir."

Dumbledore sighed heavily, and then looked around, seeming to notice the looks on the other students faces for the first time. He frowned, and then spoke again.

"Will you come with us please?"

"Professor, I didn't – "

"Just come with us Harry."

Harry walked towards them, conscious of the ever more hostile stares on his back. As the staff disappeared towards Lockhart's office, he looked back over his shoulder, smiling slightly as he saw Hermione, Neville and Draco following at a distance. Ron was nowhere to be seen.

Striding into the office, Dumbledore laid Mrs Norris gently on the desk, and began to wave his wand in a complicated pattern over her. Harry stood quietly, watching him nervously. As the minutes dragged on, Harry began to look around the room. Lockhart was babbling on about something, but no-one was paying any attention. The heads of houses were gathered around Dumbledore, waiting for his opinion – except for Snape. Snape was watching Harry. Harry held his gaze for a few moments, feeling unable to move, and Snape raised an eyebrow, apparently surprised by something. Then, as Lockhart claimed that a potion of some sort had been responsible for Mrs Norris' condition, Dumbledore straightened up, announcing that she was still alive. Filch threw himself over the table, cradling the cat to his chest in relief. Dumbledore turned to Harry.

"Now Harry. Start from the beginning if you please. How did you come to be in that particular corridor; you were supposed to be at the feast."

"Nearly Headless N – sorry sir, Sir Nicholas – he invited me to his Deathday party. I left early and when I got to the staircase I – I heard something coming from the second floor. I don't remember anything after that until I woke up."

At this, Snape stepped forward, focussing his gaze on Harry once more.

"Where were you when you heard this noise?"

"I was on the stairs sir, at the bottom."

Snape sneered.

"You expect us to believe that you heard something from the second floor from the ground floor? A likely story. What aren't you telling us Potter?"

"I swear sir, that's all I remember!"

"All you're willing to admit to you mean – "

"Severus. That is enough. I do not believe that Harry had anything to do with this. That said Harry, I do find it worrisome that you do not remember how you came to be unconscious."

Dumbledore tapped his wand against his hand in a nervous gesture.

"Do you know what Legilimency is Harry?" Dumbledore asked. Harry shook his head in response, so Dumbledore continued. "It is a magical art that will allow me, basically, to read your mind. If you are agreeable of course."

Harry swallowed. He didn't like the idea of anyone reading his mind at all. But refusing would hardly be a good idea under the circumstances. His mind made up, he nodded.

"Excellent. Legilimens!"

Harry's head began to swim, hazy images of the party flashing before his eyes. A memory of him setting foot on the stairs – and then his head began to pound once more, and he staggered back, the spell breaking. Dumbledore frowned once more.

"What happened Harry?"

"I – I don't know. My head hurts…"

Dumbledore stepped forward, looking into Harry's eyes again, and Harry winced in pain once more. The headmaster stepped back, an annoyed expression on his face.

"There is a powerful memory charm on you Harry. I got too close, which is what caused you pain. I've never seen one so powerful I have to admit. It's presumably covering what you saw…"

"Can you break it sir?"

"I'm afraid not; it's too closely woven into your mind. Any attempt I made would do more harm than good. You'll only get that memory back when whoever cast the spell is dead Harry."

McGonagall, who had been watching the scene in confusion, picked this moment to come forward.

"Albus… Never mind the memory, what about the message? Is the Chamber truly open?"

"I do not see how it can be Minerva. I'm fairly sure I would know if the Heir of Slytherin really were at the school."

Dumbledore stood still, his eyes now back on Mrs Norris. Then he turned to Harry once more.

"I think it's time you went to bed Harry. Tell no-one of what has been discussed here, do you understand?"

Harry nodded, before leaving the room hastily. Snape watched him go.

"I tried Legilimency on him myself Headmaster. I was unable to penetrate his mind. Have you been training him?"

Dumbledore shook his head, his eyes flashing with interest.

"A natural Occlumens then?"

"Not that I have noticed Severus. I was able to view those memories that hadn't been blocked easily."

"So how was he able to withstand my attempt?"

"I have no idea Severus, no idea at all. Forgive me if I am slightly more concerned with Mrs Norris at the moment."

Harry sat on a desk in a classroom, hurriedly telling Hermione, Neville and Draco what had happened. The three of them looked thoroughly scared by the time he had finished, but Hermione still asked the question:

"What does it mean, the Chamber?"

Harry and Neville shrugged, but Draco looked thoughtful.

"I think I remember my dad saying something once… Something to do with Slytherin I think."

Harry nodded.

"That's what Dumbledore said when McGonagall asked him about it. Hermione, where's Ron?"

"He had another slug attack didn't he Neville?"

"He certainly didn't want to come out of the bathroom, I know that. What about this voice you heard… You said Dumbledore read your mind – did he recognise it?"

"He didn't get that far; the charm started to throw him out. I'll go and tell him about it tomorrow."

The four of them sat in nervous silence for a few more moments, before leaving for their respective common rooms.

Harry did not sleep well that night. His head simply hurt too much, and he felt restless, energised, as he only felt when he was using magic. Something made him think that his magic was trying to tear apart the charm on his mind. While he was ok with that in principle, the way it made him feel left him wishing fervently to be a squib.

His nervousness was not helped in any way at all by Ron; the redhead had been most distressed to hear about the threat, and would not stop apologising to Harry for not having been there, despite Harry's protestations that there was nothing he could have done. Furthermore, he was thinking about the mysterious 'Chamber' that the message on the wall had mentioned. What chamber? Could it have anything to do with the events of last year? He had definitely been in a chamber of some description when he faced Quirrell… But he had felt more that the stone had just been hidden in a abandoned part of the castle, not that the location was a secret in and of itself.

He finally fell asleep an hour or so before dawn, but only managed a few hours before he was awake once more. He lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, until the others started to wake up, when he hurried to the shower. He had been thinking about the way the students had looked last night – would they still be staring at him today? His descent to the common room cheered him up. Colin Creevey was waving at him frantically, but long practice allowed him to ignore him easily. Other than that, everything was normal. People greeted him pleasantly enough, and didn't seem scared of him at all. Perhaps he had only imagined it last night.

Once he arrived in the Great Hall, this illusion was rapidly dispelled.

He was used to being the focus of attention; his status as the Boy-Who-Lived guaranteed it. That was annoying enough, but at least it had been largely admiring before. Now though, people were looking at him in fear and anger. He sat down in silence, doing his best to ignore the stares and whispers. Hermione began to chatter about something, but he ignored her, and it was painfully obvious that her cheerful countenance was forced. She eventually fell silent. After a few moments, she stood up, announcing her intention to go and look up the Chamber in Hogwarts: A History before lessons started. Ron, Neville and Harry sat there in silence, finishing their breakfast in a hurry, before heading off to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Lockhart was in his usual cheerful mood; indeed, seemed to be blissfully ignorant of all that had occurred the previous evening. However, at the end of the lesson he kept Harry behind for a moment, informing him that he believed Harry when he said he had nothing to do with the attack, and that it was most likely the work of someone jealous of his fame.

History of Magic was much more interesting.

The lesson got off to a bad start. The Hufflepuff students now avoided Harry completely, and Zacharias Smith was the only one who didn't look at Harry as if he were scum. Then of course, they had to put up with another dreary lesson, this time concerning the creation of the Ministry. After his bad nights sleep, Harry was even closer to dropping off during the lesson than ever before, and not even the nasty looks he was receiving periodically from the Hufflepuff students could keep him awake. And then Hermione raised her hand.

Binns stopped speaking, a look of shock on his ghostly face. Harry suspected that this was the first time anyone had shown an interest in his lesson since he had died, and possibly even before that. There were a few moments of silence while he tried to remember Hermione's name, and then Hermione just asked her question:

"Sir, I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Miss… Grove, I am a professor of history. I deal in fact, not in ridiculous legend."

"Wouldn't you say though that all legend has a basis in fact sir?"

Binns opened his mouth to reply, but then paused, apparently having noticed the intense interest on everyone's faces. Again, Harry was fairly sure it was something that the professor had never seen before. Binns closed his mouth again, before apparently reconsidering his words.

"That is, perhaps, a fair point. But the legend of which you speak is a particularly unrealistic, not to say unpleasant one… Nevertheless… The Chamber of Secrets then.

As you know, Hogwarts school was established by the Four Founders, Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff. As you should also be aware, the four fell out, over Slytherin's well publicised views on Muggles and Muggleborn witches and wizards, and Slytherin left the school. Before he left however, Slytherin has been said to have constructed a Chamber in the school, a so-called Chamber of Secrets. In this chamber is believed to be a monster, which only those of Slytherin's bloodline can command, and it is said that this heir will use the monster to 'cleanse' the school of all Muggleborns. There is of course absolutely no reliable evidence to back this legend up, and numerous people, including Professor Dumbledore himself, have searched for the Chamber and found nothing."

Seamus Finnegan raised a hand.

"But you said you'd need to be related to Slytherin to open it, so maybe Dumbledore wouldn't even be able to find it. And you'd probably need to use dark magic to get in, and Dumbledore wouldn't do that either."

"On the contrary young man, Professor Dumbledore uses dark magic quite often. Most offensive magic is dark in origin, and he could hardly have beaten Grindelwald without resorting to offensive magic, wouldn't you say?"

Most of the class stared at Binns in horror, although Harry grinned slightly. It was good to see peoples perceptions of magic shaken up; perhaps this would lose Lockhart a few of his followers. On the other side of the room, Ernie Macmillan looked over at Harry, a sly look on his face.

"Professor? How many people are there who are descended from Slytherin?"

"I have absolutely no idea, and neither does anyone else."

"So how would you recognise someone as being related to Slytherin?"

"I suppose that a Parselmouth would be a likely candidate… Other than that, there is no hard and fast rule."

Harry was fairly sure he didn't even flinch. Fairly sure. Certainly, those stares that were already more hostile than he would like got no worse. He couldn't be descended from Slytherin could he? No, he couldn't; he wasn't the Heir, he remembered enough of the previous evening to be sure of that, and he had no living magical family. Harry dragged himself back to the present as Binns began to shout at the students, insisting that they returned to the lesson plan. At least Harry had something to keep him awake now.

A/N: Reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated.