CHAPTER NINE

The smell was atrocious, and the first thing Harry smelt upon stepping into his dormitory. He brought his sleeve-covered hand up to his nose in an attempt to dampen the overpowering stench. Behind him, his friends skidded to a halt, coughing.

"What is that?" asked Draco, eyes watering slightly, Harry shrugged, stepping further into their room. At first glance, nothing was different to normal, but the air seemed to crackle with tension.

"Did you leave food lying around again?" Blaise asked Theodore accusingly,

"No way, this has nothing to do with me!" the boy cried incredulously. Harry and Draco were scanning the beds, looking for the source of the smell when Draco paused, wrinkling his nose,

"Guys, it's way stronger over here." he said, gesturing to outside the bathroom door, which was slightly ajar, "It's coming from in there." the four boys huddled outside the door for a few seconds, before Harry nudged it with his foot causing it to creak open. The bathroom, too, looked relatively normal, though the smell was definitely worse from in the small lavatory. Harry suddenly darted forwards with a panicked hiss. His friends looked at him, alarmed, but Harry was already on his knees, cradling something stiff and unmoving, he was murmuring frantically, eyes wide. He looked up at his friends and hissed something, before trying again, his words coming out in English on the second attempt.

"The smell is Greta!" he said, "Grass snakes release an odour when they are panicked, it's a basic defence mechanism. Something's happened to her." The green snake, which was nearly always on Harry's person, hung stiff has a rod as the boy clutched it in sweaty palms,

"Madam Pomfrey?" Theodore suggested, Harry nodded, eyes slightly glazed. Blaise grabbed the stunned boy's arm, and they began to make their way to the hospital wing. As they walked, some of the life began to return to Harry and he broke into a jog, which developed into a full sprint as he skidded through the hospital wing doors,

"Madam Pomfrey!" he bellowed, "This is a matter of great urgency!" the matron stepped out of her office, clearly irritated at the manner in which she had been summoned, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care about his rudeness. "Please, Ms, my snake, Greta! Something or someone attacked her in my dormitory, and she's frozen stiff, please tell me she's not-" the boy's voice cracked slightly, and Madam Pomfrey, who had been about to snap that she wasn't a vet, took pity on the boy. Prying the snake from the trembling child's hands, she ran her wand over it, and what she saw made her eyes widen.

"Mr Potter, do you have any idea what it was that or whom attacked your snake, where was she when you found her?" she asked,

"The boys bathroom." he said, "I have no idea what hurt her, but can she be fixed?" he trailed a finger along Greta's smooth scales,

"Your snake-"

"Her name is Greta."

"Greta has been petrified, this is very high-level magic which, whilst curable, requires a particular potion which takes many months to prepare." Madam Pomfrey said, gently. Harry nodded,

"Can it be purchased?" he asked, "So I could have her fixed within the week?" the woman shook her head,

"Whilst I am sure that there are people who you can buy the necessary potion from, their services are illegal and unreliable. Second hand potions are never worth the risk." she said, Harry frowned,

"Would you be able to produce the potion?" he asked, "If I bought the necessary materials…"

"Mr Potter, I am not a potions master, and the potion required is far beyond my capabilities, however, Professor Snape may agree to it if you ask him." any dreams Harry had of regaining Greta's company crumbled at these words, the man hated him.

"Will Greta stay like this? Does she need food or any form of sustenance? How do I feed her?" he asked, the matron peered at him,

"No, your snake needs nothing whilst she is like this, it is quite literally as though she is frozen in the state she was in at the point of her attack, she is in a form of coma." Harry nodded in relief, before sliding Greta into his robes. Her scales were cold on his skin and he repressed a shudder,

"Mr Potter, please do talk to Professor Snape rather then seeking your own form of cure." the woman said, sternly, Harry ignored her plea, asking instead,

"What could have done this?" The matron looked at him with dark brown eyes, and Harry saw the answer in the depths, she didn't know.

Harry's next few weeks passed in a haze of library visits. Between each class he was found secluded away, poring over text books as he desperately tried to figure out how to undo the petrification on Greta. He had a list of creatures that could petrify, as well as several recipes for the mandrake draught, each immensely complicated and well beyond his potions ability. His friends joined him at first, searching with him, but eventually they decided to take shifts checking up on their friend who seemed to have lost all sense of moderation. It was several weeks before Halloween that there was finally some progress. Mrs Norris, the cat of Argus Filtch, was found, hanging by her tail, petrified below a message written in blood,

The Chamber of Secrets has been opened

Enemies of the heir, beware

Harry had thrown himself to the front of the crowd of buzzing students as Dumbledore unhooked the cat from the wall.

"Professor!" he called, his friends tailed him, roughly pushing several students out of the way as they did so, "Professor, is she petrified?" that caught the headmaster's attention, his blue eyes shot to look at Harry, devoid of their usual twinkle,

"Return to your dorms." The man said, turning to the crowd, "Mr Potter, remain behind." Draco, Blaise and Theodore exchanged a look, silently agreeing to remain as well. Dumbledore glanced at them but decided not to comment on their apparent disobedience, he focused instead on Harry, who's eyes were shadowed with the purple bruises of sleep deprivation. "Mr Potter, may I ask how you came to know what petrification is, and how you were aware that it was the fate of Mrs Norris?" despite the neutral tone, there was an underlying suspicion that had the Slytherin's hackles raised.

"It wasn't him, if that's what you're implying." Draco sneered, "We've been with him this whole time. So-"

"Draco." Harry silenced him, green eyes imploring him to hold his tongue before he returned to the headmaster, who's face seemed slightly more relaxed, Harry reached into his cloak, pulling Greta from the folds of black fabric. "Headmaster, please, my snake, Greta, was petrified four weeks ago. I've been trying to figure out what did it! What's the Chamber of Secrets? Can you help her?" the headmaster slid the snake from Harry's grip gently, eyes appraising the stiff form of the serpent.

"How did you come across a snake, Mr Potter?" he asked, ignoring the boy's speech, Harry shrugged,

"She's been my pet since the start of the year, sir, can you help her?" he repeated, the man peered at Harry, eyes questioning, before he said,

"Professor Snape will be making a potion to cure Mrs Norris, it will take several months, but we will administer it to your snake at the same time. Mr Potter, how did you get a pet snake?" the man asked once more. Harry, who had relaxed at the promise of treatment for Greta, smiled faintly,

"She was wild on Theodore's land, I picked her up, and she let me keep her."

"She let you? Mr Potter can you talk to snakes?" Dumbledore asked, Harry blinked, green eyes curious,

"People can talk to snakes?" he asked, "No sir, I just meant that she didn't bite me." the headmaster didn't seem convinced, but he let the issue slide. Behind him, Harry's friends let out a breath or relief.

"Return to your common room, boys." the man said, eyes tired, the four knew better then to argue. They went to bed almost straight away when they got in. Harry was the most exhausted, stress leaving him sleep deprived, yet he couldn't remain in his bed for more then a couple of hours. He rolled from his tangle of sheets at nearly three in the morning, padding down to the common room, sock clad feet silent on the stone. The fire was still crackling in the corner, and Harry slid into an armchair, letting out a soft sigh before he realised that he wasn't alone.

Ginevra Weasley was curled at the end of a sofa. Her soft brown eyes, almost red in the light of the fire, rested on him curiously.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked, Harry shook his head,

"Bad dreams, you?" he asked,

"I'm afraid to sleep." she responded, voice quiet. In the corner, the flames suddenly flared higher, painting the room with wild, dancing shadows, "I don't know what state I'll be in when I wake up." Harry's brow furrowed, confused as he looked at the red-head.

"What do you mean?" he asked, she shook her head,

"Bad things happen when I close my eyes. I'm sorry about your snake, by the way, I heard she was petrified." she said,

"Who did you hear that from?" Harry asked, "Barely anyone knows." Ginevra's face crumpled,

"I don't know how I know." she said, voice slightly hysterical, "I don't know what's happening, I can't-" she broke off, breathing raggedly, "I can't remember anything."

Harry awoke in a cold sweat. He was in his bed, glancing at his watch, he realised it was almost seven. His head was pounding as he staggered to the bathroom. He peered at his reflection in the mirror absently, his head still filled with his strange dream, but took a double take at the sight of himself. Drawn and haggard, he looked the same as he had the day before, except for his scar. The blemish, usually a pale pink, was a vivid red, almost wet and painfully fresh looking. He splashed some cold water on his face, and allowed his fringe to fall back over the scar, which throbbed softly.

"Harry, mate, you look bloody awful." said Theodore, catching sight of him as he returned to their dorm. Harry grunted, collapsing onto his bed.

"It's Saturday, right?" he asked,

"Yeah…" came Theodore's response,

"Then I'm going back to bed." Harry decided, shutting his curtains with a sharp movement.


Ginny woke up with a splitting headache. She had been having a vivid dream, one that she couldn't quite remember. Clambering from her bed, she shuddered at the cold stone on her bare feet. She grabbed her cloak, sliding it around her shoulders. She buried her frozen fingers in the pockets as she tried to regain some of her lost heat, and her fingers closed around parchment. Her heart lurched, for several weeks, she had been finding notes. They were tucked into her textbooks, dropped into her pockets, even under her pillow. She unfolded the latest one.

Go home, freak.

She bit back a reaction, unsure whether a laugh or a sob would escape her lips if she allowed it. She showered quickly, pulling open Astoria's curtains to tell her it was almost breakfast time. The girl was lying on her stomach, filling in a quiz on 'Which witch she was most like.' At the sight of Ginny, the girl flushed, pushing the magazine off her bed in a weak attempt to disguise what she had been doing. Ginny snorted, but decided against commenting,

"Breakfast?" she asked, Astoria nodded in agreement and the two girls headed down. They sat quietly, both unusually subdued until several Slytherin boys entered. Ginny allowed her eyes to follow them; Zabini, Nott and Malfoy, where was Potter? Ginny repeated her mental question to Astoria, and the girl, who took any opportunity to talk to Malfoy, called out to him,

"Malfoy, where's Potter at?" the boy glanced at her,

"Why do you care?" he asked, Astoria shrugged.

"Curiosity." she said, the boy opened his mouth to retort once more, but Nott, looking exhausted, cut him off,

"Harry is ill, he's staying on in bed." Astoria nodded, before returning to her breakfast without comment. Ginny frowned as she gulped down her bacon, which tasted like sawdust in her mouth. A tap on her shoulder broke her from the monotonous task of eating. She turned, to see Ron standing behind her uncomfortably,

"Ginny, could I speak to you in private?" he asked, Ginny slid from her seat without a word, following her big brother from the hall. It seemed she was in for a run in with all of her brothers once more.

"Listen Ginny," Ron said, uncomfortably, "I was thinking about it, and I guess… What I mean to say is, I'm sorry I was an awful git, the others are sorry too, but we thought we ought to apologise individually…" Ginny stared at Ron in surprise for several long seconds, the boy's cheeks were as red as his hair by the time she finally threw herself forwards, pulling him into a tight hug. She had missed her brother, despite how much he had upset her, family was family. She sniffed,

"So you're not going to try and tell me who I can and can't be friends with?" she asked, Ron smiled weakly,

"No, but don't expect me to be all buddy buddy with Potter and his gang just because they're in your house. I still hate him." Ginny shrugged, she didn't have much to do with said boys,

"I would't expect any less from you." she said, fondly. Her day passed with the delight from her reconciliation with her brother hanging over her like a friendly cloud. She retired to bed with a smile on her face. The next day, she had an encounter with Percy, who went through his own, clearly practised, apology. On the third day, the twins dramatically pleaded for her forgiveness, which she gave them with a laugh and two tight hugs. The whole thing made her so happy, that for a week, she was too blissed out to even think about writing in her diary. By doing so, she unknowingly irked the soul of a Dark Lord, trapped in a diary for fifty years.

Tom Riddle was anything but patient. The small black book, which had called to Ginny from the first time she touched it, suddenly had a drag to it, Ginny was compelled to write across it's pages. At first, the urge was weak enough to resist, but soon, Ginny crumbled, feeling the claws of desire drag her to the notebook. After a week and a half of silence, Tom Riddle leapt the eleven year old girl like a starved man leaping at the first meal he had seen in months, and the girl was dragged under before she could finish the word, 'Dear'

She awoke the next morning feeling more exhausted then when she had fallen asleep, and was informed by Professor McGonagall, that her brother, Ron, was in the hospital wing, petrified. She sobbed into her pillow for the next few nights, her diary consoling her with it's sweet words, and the notes continued to arrive from her anonymous enemy, driving her further and further into herself as the days went on.

She felt truly alone.


I know it's a short chapter, the next one will be longer to make up for it. I hope you like!

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