AN: hey there, Warwickluver654 here (im joking but the new warwick is amazing) but enough about me...

we reached over 50 reviews! woo hoo! i couldn't have done it without any of you wonderful reviewers! and those two hate reviews. lol.

i would love to answer all my wonderful reviewers and their questions but i don't wanna spoil the story! i can only say that if time doesn't tell, i'll answer it for you personally, and thats a promise!

also lmao, all u ppl judging me for playing league of legends. yeah. i hate myself for playing league of legends. but hey, at least heartseeker lucian looks like a great skin! can't wait to waste my money on it :^) jk i dont play lucian

in fact the main reason i love league of legends is because of the incredible lore. don't play the game, it sucks, but read up the lore! it's really amazing!

finally, i made a cover with my less than stellar art skills! lemme know what you think! it shows things that will come into play later on ;)

now, on with the story!

The train ride was, unlike the year before, somewhat enchanting.

The views expanding towards the horizon held Booker's attention more than last year - he had been asleep, so he hardly noticed a thing. This year, he had Hermione and Neville with him, the two of them discussing more of Lockhart's credibility gap.

"It's so interesting. Every time he begins the draft for a new book, someone pops up in St. Mungo's with memory issues. Strange trend," Neville was saying. "My grandmother told me she found that in the Quibbler, and they've been insisting he's a fraud for years now."

"That is rather strange..." Hermione's hand rubbed against her chin, giving her a slight detective look. "It's like a conspiracy..."

"There's a lot of rumors about him, but it can be confirmed that he was given an official Obliviation license, that he hasn't used... apparently."

Hermione frowned. "This is getting curiouser and curiouser."

"That's not a word," Booker pitched in with a grin.

"Shush. We're being detectives."

"Aren't you more like investigative journalists?"

"Shush! Now Neville, tell me more about these rumors."

There wasn't much different at the Beginning of the Year Feast, besides the fact that Booker and company were seated at the tables with the elder years and not being sorted.

It was a little funny to see how all the little first years waltzed in with the grace of a gaggle of geese, tripping over robes and each other, the most frightened looks on their faces. What did they expect to happen, wrestle a troll? Booker grimaced at the gory image that came to mind. No, that would not go well.

The sorting and feast went on with little to no interruptions, and Booker tuned out anything Dumbledore said.

When he got to the dorms with the rest of the Hufflepuffs, he easily flopped into his bed with a sigh of relief.

No matter what came his way, it was good to be back.

Classes started up regularly, and the school year was, in all, normal, confirming Booker's thought that Bo... uh... the house-elf thing's warning was just a prank. He was tempted to confront little Malfoy about it, but he knew that would be letting it get to him, so he pretended nothing was going on.

There was also a matter of him gaining a stalker, some first year with a camera. He ignored the kid so heavily the little tyke thought he was deaf.

Gilderoy Lockhart had no idea what he was doing, obviously, but Booker made no comment. It was hilarious to watch the man flounder his way around the classroom, then flash a brilliant smile and hear the many sighs of most of the female students, and some of the male students. The students were, for the most part, wrapped around the man's pinky. At some point the man tried to talk to Booker again, but each time Booker managed to squeeze out an excuse and duck away.

Things seemed to be going okay. Professor Sprout brought out the ugliest fucking plants Booker had ever seen, but other things were good.

Then, about a month into the school year, the crowds of students herded to one of the halls, and Booker, not wanting to get lost again, followed them.

"Look! It's Filch's cat!" one of the students shouted, pointing at what everyone was already staring at in horror.

Indeed it was the famed Mrs. Norris, hung by the tail from one of the many lamps along the hallway. Next to her, on the wall, was a sinister message.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE.

"Enemies of the heir, beware!" Malfoy said with a shrill laugh. "Ha! You'll be next, mudbloods!" He sent a particularly nasty look to Booker and Hermione, and instinctively, the veteran shoved his friend behind him. She squeaked indignantly, but made no move to go back to the harsh glare of the young Slytherin.

Something in Booker's stomach stirred. He had no idea what this all meant, but this was either a rather serious prank... or not a prank at all.

Hermione launched a campaign to search for the Chamber of Secrets in the library.

It took her three days to give up.

"I can't believe this," she said, slouching in her chair. "Nothing in here about the Chamber of Secrets! Nothing! I even asked the Ravenclaws and they found even less than I did?"

Neville frowned. "Wouldn't that mean they found negative information on the-"

"You know what I mean, Neville!"

The boy chuckled. "I know, 'Mione. Just teasing."

"I'm just... scared," she admitted with a sigh. "You heard what Malfoy said. What does this mean? What does this mean for me, for other muggleborns?"

Booker remembered the cruel comment Malfoy had made. "I was meaning to ask you. What does 'mudblood' mean?"

Surprisingly, Neville answered. "It's a derogatory term, towards anyone of muggle descent. It implies that their blood is 'dirty' compared to purely magical people, known as 'purebloods'."

With a snarl, Booker stood. "I oughta give that kid a knuckle sandwich for that-"

"Harry, no," Hermione insisted. "You'll get in trouble."

Neville nodded in agreement.

Sighing, he sat down. "He does it again, or makes any sort of move on to you, I get one punch in. One."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine, Harry."

Neville was a true charm. Hermione had been practically ripping her hair out over the lack of information on the Chamber of Secrets when the round boy piped up.

"Why not ask some of the ghosts?" the boy suggested innocently. "They've been around for loads of years, I'm sure one or two of them have something to tell you."

And thus, instead of spending the weekend on homework like they normally would, Hermione dragged them around to ask all the ghosts questions, and it didn't stop there. Locating all the ghosts took far longer than expected, and soon the beginnings of winter was one them.

With the help of the many spirits lingering the halls of the castle, they managed to piece together a sinister story.

"We know who did it."

"A Slytherin boy. Snake in the grass, that one."

"Cunning beyond anything anyone could imagine. Truly a merit to his house."

"I had trusted him... I thought death would dull the pain of life, of betrayal, but its keen sting is still as sharp as ever."

"Killed a girl in the first-floor bathroom, the mudblood ghost."

"He was the Heir. Controlled the monster, but I never saw it. Anyone who did, well. I'm sure that's obvious."

"It was a pair of large, yellow eyes..."

"I saw it. It traveled by the pipes. A huge snake, longer than the Great Hall back and forth. I may be dead, but I was still afraid."

"... and then poof! I was dead."

"We need to go to Dumbledore with this information."

The trio were seated in the library once more, a notepad filled to the brink with the interviews of the ghosts sitting in front of them.

"I don't know, Hermione," Booker replied. "I don't trust that guy. Something about him..."

"I know you have a problem with authority, but this is the only person that could actually do something!" Hermione yelled, and immediately she was shushed by Madam Pince.

Wincing, the girl whispered, "Sorry, Madam Pince, but this whole Chamber of Secrets debacle..."

The woman's expression softened. "I understand dear, but remember to keep your voice down."

With a nod, Hermione returned to the conversation. "Harry, this is important. We have to tell him, and if he doesn't do anything, then..."

"Then what?" the veteran asked.

"Then we deal with it ourselves."

"Hello, Ms. Granger, Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Potter. I understand you wished to see me. Lemon drop?"

Dumbledore's office was loud, both in style and noise. There were many trinkets and toys that rolled around and twirled and circled the room. A perch for a bird of prey stood beside the desk, a pile of ashes beneath it.

"No thank you, Headmaster," Hermione replied politely. "The three of us have acquired some important information regarding the Chamber of Secrets."

She placed the worn-out notepad on his desk, and the elderly man gently picked it up and leafed through it, his brow furrowing gently.

"How did you come by this information, my dear?"

Booker snarled. "Don't you call her that you creep-"

Hermione put a hand up to silence him. "We interviewed the many ghosts in the halls. It took a while, but we managed to get it all."

"This is most important, thank you very much for this..." Dumbledore trailed off. "Someone is at my door. I fear it is urgent. Children, head on back to your dormitories, it's getting late."

As they left the room, they heard the words, "... Creevey has been petrified..."

"Creevey? Isn't that your stalker, Harry?"

Butterflies flew around Booker's stomach in worry, and he got very little rest that night.

AN: every time i take a break from writing its to get food/water, use the restroom, watch the NA LCS, or hang out with my cat for like 5 min ;_; im so lonely, tfw no bf

this chapter is a little short, sorry about that. i'm gonna try to make the next one longer.

anywho, i hope you all liked this chapter!