Severus watched Lucius re-enter the hospital wing. Draco did not follow him. Severus started toward the door and saw Potter – who'd also stood – sit back down again, with a nod.

Draco was out in the corridor perched on a low wall that overlooked several flights of staircases.

"May I?" Severus asked, gesturing to the wall beside his godson. Draco glanced up at him, and nodded, then looked away again. Severus sat, and tried not to look down. Heights didn't bother him, but he never would have sat here on his own; if he leaned back too far, he'd fall several storeys. Draco didn't seem bothered by that, though.

"Did Father send you to talk with me?" Draco asked, after a moment. His voice was tight, and he didn't look at Severus.

"No," Severus said. "I thought I'd make sure you were well."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Draco demanded.

"Well, Granger's lying in a hospital bed, for one," Severus drawled. He'd come out here to make sure Lucius hadn't offended the boy, but he knew talking about that wouldn't get him anywhere at the moment. "If it was Potter you might not even bat an eye, because it happens so regularly, but-" Draco startled him by making an odd, sobbing sound, and Severus stopped talking at once, trying to decide whether he should comfort Draco or not. He was a little reluctant to, however, because Lucius could walk out at any moment, and that could well make things worse.

"Father's an idiot," Draco said, taking the decision away by starting to talk. He still hadn't looked up but he sounded angry rather than sad, and Severus wondered if he'd imagined the sob.

"How so?" Severus asked quietly. He glanced at the hospital wing doors, to be certain Lucius wasn't on his way out, and Draco misinterpreted it.

"He did send you!" Draco leaped to his feet and would have stormed off, but Severus caught his sleeve.

"Sit down, you silly boy," he said. Draco sat. "I thought I made it perfectly clear last Christmas whose side I was on, when it comes to things like this." Draco's expression cleared a little.

"Sor-"

"You've had a trying morning," Severus said, waving the apology away. "Just try not to do me the disservice of such assumptions in the future."

"Yes, sir," Draco mumbled. He looked up, and Severus turned. Lucius and the Headmaster left the hospital wing – not speaking – and walked the other way. Dumbledore caught Severus's eye, only briefly, but if Lucius was aware of them, he gave no indication. Draco scowled.

"Might I ask what you quarrelled about?" Severus asked.

"He said I was a disgrace, and that I need to be punished," Draco said, eyes still on his father.

"Did he say why?"

"Because he's stupid and I called him out on it," Draco said, after a moment's hesitation. "And because I'm upset about Granger, and he thinks that's unbecoming. He's unbecoming!" Draco kicked the wall they were sitting on. Severus watched him. This time last year, Draco'd have been upset that he'd displeased his father- or, rather, Draco would have just nodded and gone along with whatever Lucius said, regardless of what he personally believed. He'd never have called him stupid.

Look at what we've created, Narcissa, Severus thought, but didn't think she'd view her son with anything but her usual, distant interest. A boy who thinks independently, who lets himself speak unpopular opinions, a boy who's sadder about the attack on his muggleborn friend than his father's diminished opinion of him… Severus couldn't whether to be sad or proud, or both.

"What?" Draco asked.

"You've changed," Severus said, seeing no point in lying to him, "since your sorting."

"Good," Draco said. "Particularly if not changing would have meant I'd think like Father." Severus got the impression that this would be Draco's attitude for the next little while. He'd come out expecting a sad or confused Draco, and wasn't entirely sure what to do with an angry one. There was no point in defending Lucius – Draco wouldn't listen, but Severus suspected Lucius was in the wrong – but agreeing with Draco would just make him angrier and that wasn't likely to help matters.

Draco looked up again, as McGonagall stepped out into the corridor, looked around, and then strode over. Behind her were the Weasley twins and their sister, the two Greengrass girls and Runcorn. All looked a little lost.

"Have Potter and Weasley come by?" McGongall looked stressed, Severus thought.

"Should they have?" Severus asked.

"They seem to have misplaced themselves." McGonagall's nostrils flared, but she looked more worried than angry. Little Ginny Weasley looked like she might be ill, and Draco's anger had already been replaced by fear. "Keep an eye out, if you would, Severus, and if they turn up, please escort them back to Gryffindor."

"And the rest?" Severus glanced at the mismatched lot of students behind her.

"Poppy wants visitors out until later, so I'm taking these three back to Gryffindor, and Miss Greengrass to Ravenclaw. Pomona's with Poppy, discussing mandrakes, so if I could steal you for a moment to take Miss Greengrass and Mr Runcorn back to Slytherin and Hufflepuff, I'd be grateful-" Severus almost asked where Flitwick was, and then remembered.

"Certainly," he said, standing.

"Mr Malfoy, with me, if you wouldn't mind," McGonagall said, and Draco fell into place beside the lone Greengrass twin. Severus gestured to Greengrass and Runcorn to follow him.

"Did they say where she was found?" Ron asked, adjusting Draco's book bag on his shoulder, which held all of the books Hermione'd put in there that night, and had, thankfully, had the cloak and the map. Riddle would have loved to get his hands on them, Harry was sure.

"Library," Harry said, catching the cloak as Ron's movement threatened to pull it off of them. Ron's expression twitched, as if he might have smiled, but then grew grim again; Harry suspected he'd remembered why she was at the library, and that Ron, like Harry and like Draco, were all responsible because they hadn't gone with her.

"Is this the one?" Ron asked, gesturing to the door.

"I think so." The map said it was. The glanced at each other, pulled the cloak off. Harry stuffed it into his pocket, and drew his wand. Ron adjusted the bag again, and drew his wand as well. They pushed the door open, and walked inside.

"What now?!" a girl shrieked, and Harry jumped back into Ron, trying to find the voice's source. "Have you come to blast me down the drain as well?"

Harry finally found her; it was the ghost of a long-faced, bespectacled girl in Hogwarts robes, floating just above the first toilet cubicle.

"No," he said, "we- erm-"

"I wasn't talking to you," she said snippily. She was glowering at Ron. "How many of you are there, anyway?"

"Of- me?" Ron asked, looking to Harry for help.

"You're Moaning Myrtle," Harry said, "aren't you?" He hadn't realised until now, that this was the same bathroom that Ginny had pointed out to him on Halloween. That got her attention.

"And if I am?" she asked, folding her arms. "I bet you've heard all sorts of awful things about me, haven't you?"

"Erm, no," Harry said, deciding not to talk about Ginny's encounter with her, "just that you lived here." Ron was silent, still staring up at her, bewildered. Myrtle watched him for a long moment, and then drifted down to the ground, so that she was of a height with them, rather than hovering up near the ceiling. She was a tiny bit shorter than Ron, but Harry thought she might have been a bit older than they were.

"What do you want, then?" she asked, with a wary look at Ron.

"I'm Harry," Harry said.

"Myrtle," Myrtle said glumly.

"And this is my friend Ron." Ron waved, watching Myrtle just as warily. "His brother was attacked in here last night-"

"No," Myrtle said. Harry stared at Ron, confused. Had they got the bathroom wrong? "His brother attacked me! I was just sitting at the sinks, minding my own business when he burst in here and banished me down the drain-!"

"Percy's a Prefect, he wouldn't attack you," Ron said, crossly.

"Oh, yes he would," Myrtle retorted. "Because he did!"

"Well," Harry said, holding a hand up to keep Ron quiet, "he was found here this morning, petrified." Myrtle blinked.

"The tall, red haired boy, with glasses?" she asked.

"Yeah," Ron said, "that's him-"

"He's the one that attacked me," she said. She floated up a little bit, so that she could look down on them.

"He's also the one that was petrified," Harry said.

"Unlucky him," Myrtle replied, shrugging. "You still haven't said what you want."

"To know if you know anything," Harry said.

"Obviously not, because he sent me away!" she snapped.

"Right, sorry, but I mean- you haven't seen anything else… odd, or seen anyone- Do you know Tom Riddle?"

"I went to school with him," Myrtle said. "Olive Hornby fancied him, but I never had anything to do with him. And the only odd thing I've seen is two boys in a girl's bathroom."

"You don't know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked.

"It was open when I was a student here," Myrtle said. Then, she sighed. "Slytherin's monster killed me. And all the teachers that used to listen to my problems when I was alive, stopped visiting when I was dead. They just left me here-"

"Slytherin's monster killed you?" Harry asked, mouth open. "What is it? How?"

"Yes, it killed me," she said. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was enjoying herself, but it was hard to tell with ghosts, because he couldn't smell what they were feeling. It occurred to Harry that he relied on that, far too much these days. "It was awful. And I'm not entirely sure what it is, but it has big, yellow eyes-"

"Aha!" Myrtle looked up at the noise, startled, and then a dreamy expression settled on her face. Ignoring Harry and Ron altogether, she drifted over to greet Lockhart, who'd just walked in. "Thought I might find you two here." Harry very much doubted that; more likely was that he'd walked past and happened to overhear them.

"Myrtle," Harry said, but she didn't turn.

"Hello, Professor," Myrtle said coyly.

"Hello." Lockhart gave her an uneasy look, and then turned back to Harry and Ron. "Yes, well, off we go, now. Can't have you wandering around on your own at a time like this, can we?"

"Sure you can," Ron replied. "What were you-"

"Come along, boys."

"She was just telling us about Slytherin's monster," Harry said, frustrated.

"And I'd love to hear what you have to say about it all," Lockhart said, beaming at Myrtle. "Would you be happy to talk to me after I've seen these two to safety-?"

"Oh, yes," Myrtle said, giggling.

"See now; the matter's in much more capable hands. Let's go." And with that, Lockhart ushered Harry and a very disgruntled Ron from the bathroom. For all that he was an idiot, Lockhart was still a teacher, and Harry was sure he'd be back to talk to Myrtle – if only because she seemed to like him – and hopefully, Lockhart would pass news of whatever he found onto McGonagall or another teacher.

"You really don't need to walk us all the way back," Ron said. Harry nodded.

"Boys," Lockhart said, with a knowing smile, "you can't trick me like the rest. I know if I let you go, you'll just run off to try to catch the Heir. You want the fame, the glory, I know you do."

"Yeah, the fact that Hermione was attacked doesn't have anything to do with it," Harry said sarcastically. Or that it's Voldemort.

"I was sorry to hear about Miss Granger," Lockhart said, and Harry believed him. "But fear not, Harry. I'm on the case now, well and truly-"

"You mean you weren't before?" Ron asked, rolling his eyes; Lockhart had been telling them in class for weeks how near he was to ending the whole Chamber business.

"I'm afraid I underestimated the Heir," Lockhart said. "Happens to the best of us, you'll understand, but now he has my full attention on him. He won't last more than a few nights. You've almost got to feel sorry for him, with me on his trail, don't you?" Lockhart smiled his white, toothy smile and Harry stared at him.

"Sure," he said after a moment.

"I've even got the Prophet coming tomorrow; people are scared, you see, and it's important that they're aware that I'm taking care of things. They ought to sleep much more soundly once they've read my take on the matter."

"So what do you know, so far?" Harry asked. Lockhart tsked.

"Harry, Harry, Harry. I fear I've made myself something of a role model to you, this year-" Ron mimed gagging on Lockhart's other side, while Harry stared at Lockhart, disbelieving. "-and I see my selflessness in you. Really I do; I see that you – and your friends – would put yourself in danger to save the other students, but, Harry, it's a hard life. It's not one I chose, or would chose for anyone else." Harry just stared. "I think telling you about the Heir will just upset and distract you, and I can't do that; it's my job to keep you safe"

Clearly, Lockhart hadn't been informed of the arrangement Harry had with Dumbledore. Harry wasn't sure whether he was comforted by that, or frustrated.

"Right," he said, barely managing not to roll his eyes. Footsteps made him look up, in time to see McGonagall round the corner. Her eyes ran over them, apparently looking for injuries, and then narrowed. Harry knew she wasn't happy.

"I trust there's an explanation for this," she said, folding her arms. "Sneaking off without an explanation is a poor way to repay the trust that we've put on you of late, Mr Potter. And you, Mr Weasley; given everything that's happened, I'd have thought you would have more regard for the safety of your friends, and for yourself."

"Sorry, Professor," Ron mumbled. Harry said nothing.

"They were in the first floor bathroom, Professor," Lockhart said. McGonagall raised an eyebrow at Harry, who held her gaze. "Trying to solve this business with the Heir, no doubt."

"No doubt," McGonagall said, still watching Harry.

"I found them before they could get themselves into any trouble… seems there's been enough of that lately. They meant well, I'm sure."

"I'll take them from here," McGonagall said. Harry saw Ron almost smile.

"I don't mind-"

"Boys." Harry and Ron went to stand with McGonagall. "Thank you for your help, Gilderoy."

"It's nothing, really. Don't go too hard on them, Professor."

"I'll deal with them as I see fit," McGonagall said curtly. Lockhart left, looking a little inflated.

"Are we in trouble?" Harry asked.

"I'm not at all impressed," McGonagall said, sweeping down the corridor. "Undoubtedly you were investigating, but sneaking off alone is not the way to have gone about it." Harry stared at the ground. "You will be assigned a detention each." Ron looked at her, but before he could say anything, she added, "And consider yourselves lucky that that is the only punishment; I could-" She jerked her head back toward Lockhart. "-have left you with him."