Disclaimer: The vector of Harry Potter at point JK Rowling is ten books, eight movies, and one short story.

A/N: Thanks to Starfox5 for suggesting that the trio use Veritaserum and to Pahan for helping me flesh out the idea.

Chapter 30

"Veritaserum?" Ron and Harry said together.

"It's truth serum," Hermione said. "Just three drops will make someone tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth about anything you ask them. There are ways to resist it, but you have to know it's coming in advance."

"So we grab Malfoy, give him three drops, and ask him about the Chamber of Secrets!" Ron said excitedly. "That could work."

"No it won't," Harry said. "When he gets out of it, he'll run off and tell Snape."

"Oh, right."

Hermione bit her lip.

"What?"

"He won't if we slip him a Forgetfulness Potion and a Sleeping Draught when we're done," she said. "If we combine the two, he won't remember anything for the past half hour, or if he does, he'll think he dreamed it."

"Whoa," Ron said. "You know you're really scary sometimes, Hermione."

"I'm just doing what I have to," she replied. "I'm not going to take Malfoy's crud lying down anymore." Her friends stared as they saw the fire in her eyes, a fire they had seen only once before, when she had dismantled Professor Vector's "impenetrable" protection on the Philosopher's Stone. Beneath that bookish exterior, they realised there was a person they did not want to cross.

"Ooo-kaaay, so we can get that stuff…" Ron said uneasily. "But where do we get Veritaserum?"

"Well, that's the tricky part," she said. "We'll have to make it."

Harry and Ron exchanged an uncomfortable look. Both of them were mediocre at Potions.

"Okay, I'll have to make it," Hermione clarified. "But there are some problems."

"Like what?" Harry said.

She laughed coldly: "You mean aside from the fact that it's illegal to use on minors? Well, for one, we'll need a place to brew it. For that, I was thinking Myrtle's bathroom."

"But that's a girl's bathroom," Ron protested.

"That no one ever uses. It's the last place anyone would look. The second problem is that it's a really advanced potion. That means it'll be very dangerous to get wrong, and it'll probably need ingredients that aren't available to students."

"Well, that's no good. Where're we gonna get those?" said Ron.

But Harry looked thoughtful: "Would Professor Snape have what we need?"

"In his private stores, almost certainly," Hermione replied with a sigh. "We'd have to steal some."

Ron gaped at her: "Dangerous and breaking all kinds of rules, and now stealing from Snape? Have you gone mad, Hermione? He'll kill us if he finds out."

She crossed her arms: "Hmph. You think I like this, Ronald? I'm talking about breaking the law, here. But I am not going to wait for Malfoy to come after me…" She fought to keep her voice from quivering. "He was pointing at me, remember? And the professors were no help. If you two Gryffindors are gonna chicken out, you can just forget I said anything, but I'm going to do it with or without you. If you'd like to stick around and help me think of a plan, Mr. Chessmaster…"

"Okay, okay, I'm in," Ron said quickly. "I think the world's gone barmy with you breaking rules, but I'm in. So what do we need to take from the greasy git?"

"That's the other problem," Hermione said. "I need the book that says how to make it. Snape said it's called Moste Potente Potions, but I'm sure it'll be in the Restricted Section of the library."

Harry's and Ron's faces fell. They would need a note from a teacher, usually signing off on the specific book, to take anything out of the Restricted Section. Hermione was close with Professor Vector, but not that close.

"How can we get it, then?" asked Harry. "The teachers will know we want to make a potion."

"I was thinking maybe we could tell them we just wanted to know about the theory…"

"Oh come on," Ron burst out. "Even I wouldn't fall for that. What teacher would be that thick?"

Suddenly, Harry got an excited grin on his face.

Harry's plan worked like a charm, but Hermione's estimate of Professor Lockhart was starting to fall. A little flattery was all it took to get the Defence Professor to sign her note without even looking at it. The bad news was that the Veritaserum took a month to brew. However, the instructions were very detailed, and she was confident that she could do it if she had the ingredients. But breaking into Snape's private stores wouldn't be easy, and the boys, predictably, were more worried about the next weekend's Quidditch match.

True, Hermione could get into it, too. She really wanted Harry to wipe that smirk off Malfoy's face.

"It's not going to be as easy as last year," Hermione told the team when they asked her for her Arithmantic assessment. Even Oliver Wood seemed interested in what she had to say. "I know you girls are good, but the Chaser squad is going to be at a real disadvantage going against Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones. The good news is that Harry's a much better flier than Malfoy, and his broom is almost as fast, so if you play a hard defence,you've got a better than even chance, but I'd have to put it at only about sixty, maybe sixty-five percent."

"Hmm, perhaps a morale boost is in order, then," suggested Fred. "That can always help one's advantage."

"Oh no, what did you do?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing against the rules," George said.

"Well, not the important rules," Fred clarified.

"Yeah, but they'll be back to normal all too soon."

"Shh, quiet, George. It should be happening right about…now…"

Everyone looked over at the Slytherin table, where the Quidditch Team, already in their green robes, were sipping orange juice and discussing the upcoming match. But as they talked, their faces rapidly flashed through confusion, fear, and then rage as laughter started to spread around the Hall. Soon, they were on their feet and shouting, or rather trying to shout, as their predicament became clear. The entire Slytherin Quidditch Team were emitting strange, vaguely horse-like squeals every time they opened their mouths.

"Yes!" Fred exclaimed.

"Worked like a charm," George said.

"Or rather like a potion," Fred smirked.

"It did?" said Hermione. "Just what are they supposed to sound like?"

"Zebras, of course," the Twins replied in unison.

"And now for phase two," Fred added. "Come on, everybody," he motioned to the Gryffindor Team. The two of them linked their arms and each swallowed a swig of their own orange juice, and, with a matching pair of grins, the Weasley Twins stood up and let out a loud pair of lions' roars to the Great Hall. This caused the enraged Slytherins to shout even more, filling the air with more frightened zebra sounds. Pretty soon, Ron goaded Harry into drinking the spiked orange juice, and the three Chasers soon followed. Only Oliver Wood refused. Professor Snape had already silenced the Slytherin Team and was investigating the orange juice.

"That had better be temporary," Wood confronted them.

Fred held up ten fingers, and George made an M shape with his hands.

"It lasts for ten minutes?"

They both nodded.

"I will hold you to that Messrs. Weasley." Professor McGonagall appeared, standing over their shoulders. "As amusing as this might be—" And she did look a little amused. "—this is quite inappropriate behaviour. Detention with me Monday night."

Fred and George nodded, but mouthed, "Worth it," to each other behind her back. Sure enough, ten minutes later, both Quidditch teams could speak normally again.

"That was bloody brilliant," Ron told his brothers. "Lions and zebras. I never would've thought of that." Even Ginny looked like she'd liked that one. She seemed cheered up a bit compared with the past few days.

"Well, not everyone can be us," said Fred.

"I hate to say it, but that was really impressive," Hermione told them. "How did you get potions to do that?"

"That, our dear Miss Granger—" Fred started.

"—is a trade secret," George finished.

Hermione lay awake in her bed that night, wondering how everything kept going wrong.

The Quidditch Match had been a near-total disaster. Gryffindor had won, but that was the only bright spot. She could still see it clearly in her mind: the Bludger deviating from the opportunistic course it was supposed to follow and going after Harry again and again, no matter how hard Fred and George hit it. Just like last year, it looked like someone was tampering with the equipment, and just like last year, she'd grabbed a pair of binoculars and started scanning the crowd, but this time, she couldn't find anyone jinxing the Bludger—nothing in the teachers' box—that was the first place she'd looked. Then, the stands, but she never saw anything there, either. She had to just sit there, watching Harry almost get killed again and again and not able to do anything about it.

Hermione had a feeling Malfoy was involved with this somehow. As the new Slytherin Seeker and a much inferior flier, who else would have more reason to try to knock Harry off his broom? But he hadn't looked like he was doing anything at the time, and she doubted there would be much chance to prove it after.

Things only got worse as the rain grew heavier and the visibility fell. Harry, idiot Gryffindor Quidditch nut that he was, refused to stop playing, even after George called a time out. He kept zooming around the Quidditch Pitch in a kind of aerial ballet, keeping a step ahead of the less manoeuvrable Bludger with his tight turns. For a while, it looked like he had things almost under control, but Bludger nailed him in the end.

Hermione had screamed when the iron ball slammed into Harry's arm. He went reeling on his broom, and the Bludger turned around again, this time aimed at his head, but he dodged and charged Malfoy. She'd thought for a moment that he had got fed up and decided to attack the Slytherin directly, but no, he was going for the Snitch, snatching it from practically under Malfoy's nose with his one good arm.

He'd landed hard, tumbling off his broom. Even then, the Bludger made another pass at him, but Fred and George grabbed it and started wrestling it back into its box. For a moment, it had seemed like the worst was over.

And then, Professor Lockhart he tried to fix his broken arm. He might be brilliant at defence, she thought, but his healing spells left a lot to be desired. Instead of repairing the bones, he somehow managed to vanish every bone in Harry's arm. Hermione felt sick. All those ligaments and tendons had to be hanging loose, now, sliding around. She was sure Harry was going to lose his arm, but Madam Pomfrey assured them not to worry. That was the magic of Skele-Gro. It fixed everything up on its own, and Harry would be fine in the morning.

She wanted to defend Lockhart—to say it was just an honest mistake—but it was getting harder and harder. The longer she watched him, the more she was starting to think he had no idea what he was doing. He never really taught anything in class. He just acted out scenes from his books, and she wasn't sure she'd ever seen him perform any but the simplest spells correctly.

So that left her with three separate problems: the Chamber of Secrets, the rogue Bludger (although both of those might have been Malfoy), and Professor Lockhart, and none of those problems lent themselves to obvious solutions. And she'd been having a pretty good year so far, too.

As she drifted off to sleep, Hermione wondered if anything else could go wrong.

Little did she know.

Harry woke in the dead of night and immediately yelped in pain. The numb, rubbery feeling in his arm had been bad enough, but now it felt like it was full of large splinters, and worse still, he could feel his tendons crawling under his skin to attach in the right places.

His arm was so distracting that it took him several seconds to realise that someone was sponging his forehead in the darkened Hospital Wing.

"Ahh! Get off!" He yelled. He flailed with his good arm and managed to flip on the bedside lamp. A huge pair of goggling green eyes stared up at him. "Dobby!"

A single tear ran down Dobby's nose. "Harry Potter came back to Hogwarts," the elf whispered. "Dobby warned him not to come back, sir. Why did Harry Potter do it? Why did he not go back home when he missed the train?"

"Missed the train?" Harry said. "How did you know—?"

But before he could make the connection, there was a loud crack, almost deafening in the quiet ward, and another, much younger elf appeared beside the bed.

"Sonya?" Harry said in confusion.

Sonya took one look at Dobby and said. "You! You is Dobby! You is getting Harry Potter in trouble! We is watching for elves who is not supposed to be here—"

Dobby, whom Hermione said had probably had very little contact with other elves, quailed and took a step back. "Dobby is trying to save Harry Potter," he said. "Save him from the dark deeds that are planned at Hogwarts. Dobby tried to keep Harry Potter away, but nothing Dobby did would make him leave."

"What dark deeds?" Sonya demanded. "Tell Sonya. We must be warning Professor Dumbledore of all dark deeds."

"Dobby cannot speak of them, even to fellow elves. Dobby mustn't tell. Harry Potter must go home. Dobby has tried three times, but he will not listen."

"Three times?" Harry said. "It was you! You made Ron and me miss the train. And you sent the Bludger, too?"

The elf whimpered: "Dobby thought his Bludger would—"

Suddenly, there was a flash of light and a bang, and Dobby was thrown headfirst into the wall. He staggered to his feet, rubbing his head, only to be faced down by an enraged teenage elf. "You tries to kill Harry Potter!" Sonya screamed. Harry was sure she would wake Madam Pomfrey and maybe the whole wing. "You is a bad elf, Dobby! We shoulds have been watching the grounds for you, too! Sonya will take you to Magical Creatures Department for this!" She launched herself at Dobby, but there was another flash of light, and she was thrown against the opposite wall with a squeal.

"Not kill Harry Potter," Dobby said. "Never kill him. Better for him to be sent home grievously injured, than remain here, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more—" He froze, horror struck, and then grabbed the water jug from the bedside table and smacked it against his skull. "Bad Dobby!" he yelled. "Very bad Dobby."

Sonya had started to take another run at Dobby, but she skidded to a halt and clapped her tiny hands over her mouth at the sight.

But Harry was on top of things. He grabbed Dobby by the wrists and said, "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?"

"It is being opened before?" Sonya echoed.

"Dobby can say no more, Harry Potter sir. He must not speak about such things."

"But Harry Potter is not being muggle-born," Sonya said. "It is Hermione Granger who is in danger. Dobby will tell Sonya!" Then, she took a flying leap and jumped on Dobby's back. Dobby yelped, and they both tumbled off the bed. The two elves began rolling around the room in a blur of limbs, squeaks, and flashes of light, seemingly locked in some sort of wandless duel.

"Dobby will tell Sonya! Sonya will protect her friends—Eek!"

There was a louder bang than the others, and Sonya was thrown up onto one of the empty beds. Then, Dobby waved his hands, and the sheet levitated into the air with her on it, then wrapped her up tight so that she couldn't get away.

"Dobby, let her go!" Harry said, but Dobby ignored him.

"Dobby is not wanting to hurt Sonya," the elf said, "but Dobby is knowing old elf lore, and he will use it to protect Harry—" He froze and listened. Harry and Sonya heard it, too. There were footsteps coming from outside the Hospital Wing.

"Intruder!" Sonya screamed. "Is being an intruder!"

"Dobby must go!" The intruding elf popped away with a crack, and Sonya fell to the bed.

"Dobby? Dobby!" she screamed in anger.

At that moment, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were walking into the ward, carrying what looked like a statue. Sonya disentangled herself and ran up to them, babbling, "Professor Dumbledore, sir, there was being an intruder here. He was an elf and was being the one who tampered with the Bludger, and…" She stopped and staggered backwards, clapping her hands to her mouth again when she saw what it really was that the professors were carrying.

"Hey, did you hear about that little first year? Creevey, I think."

Hermione turned to a shaken-looking Alicia Spinnet in confusion. Had Harry gone round the twist and stolen the boy's camera or something? "No, what happened?" she said.

"Petrified," Alicia replied. Hermione gasped. "Just like Mrs. Norris. They say he was sneaking up to visit Harry when something got him."

"What…? But…how?"

"I don't know. You can ask Harry. He told Fred he saw him brought in."

"Right, um, I will." Hermione turned and walked out of the Great Hall. She saw Draco Malfoy sending her a smug smirk as she left. As soon as she got out the doors, she broke into a run and didn't stop until she got to Myrtle's bathroom. She ran into the first stall and sank to the floor.

Her brain and heart were both racing. Her hands were shaking again, and she wrapped her arms around herself to stop them. She tried to piece together what she knew. The Chamber of Secrets had been opened—or so the message claimed. There had been a cat and student petrified by an unknown force in two separate incidents. Malfoy had implied to her more than once that he had been expecting this all year. That pointed to the fact that someone—Malfoy or otherwise—really had opened the Chamber of Secrets and unleashed the horror within to purge the school of muggle-borns. She didn't know why Colin had been petrified and not killed or injured badly enough to be removed from the castle, but it hardly mattered. If it was Malfoy, he probably wouldn't be above killing, and if it was someone else, she was still in danger of being turned into a statue until spring.

She had to get that potion made.

With that resolution, she left the bathroom and climbed up to her dorm to get her supplies and the instructions she had copied from Moste Potente Potions. (She had copied a couple of the other recipes, too. That Polyjuice stuff looked like it could be useful.) It had taken some doing to get a spare cauldron, but that was the easy part. Returning to the bathroom, she set up her rig. A ceramic basin mounted inside a toilet bowl held bluebell flames that would be just hot enough to simmer the potion and would only need to be refilled once per day. The cauldron sat over top of it after she filled it with water from the sink. The instructions said the final product had to be distilled, and she still wasn't sure how she would do that, but she'd think of something.

But that was as far as she got at the moment. Her hands were still shaking, and she didn't dare try to start brewing in that condition. She knew it wasn't from the cold, but she tried to run them under hot water from the sink anyway. She found it somewhat soothing.

Things weren't looking good. Merely the threat of this could scare her parents into withdrawing her (and she probably wasn't alone in that). Politically speaking, that might be even worse—letting Malfoy win without a fight. But how was she going to spin this one? Dear Mum and Dad, Remember that boy who keeps hexing me and calling me racial slurs? I think he may be actively plotting to kill me.

Someone knocked on the door: "Hermione?"

"Ahhh! R-Ron?" she stammered.

The redheaded boy entered the bathroom. "Are you okay?" he asked. "You ran out at breakfast."

"Did you hear about Colin?" she said, trying to stay calm.

"Yeah. I heard McGonagall telling Flitwick about it. Why'd you run out, though?"

"I…I just wanted to start the Veritaserum right away. It doesn't look like the Heir is wasting any time. Can you…can you give me a hand with it?"

Ron shook his head: "I'm rubbish at Potions."

"I've got the instructions," Hermione replied. "Just do what I say, and it'll be fine."

"Well…okay."

Hermione drew her wand, took a deep breath to steady herself, and applied the appropriate charms to the cauldron. They weren't the ones they usually used for the simpler potions in class, like the Dissolving Charm, since several of the ingredients had to stew for a while instead of dissolving. "There, now that one first," she pointed shakily to one of the jars of ingredients.

"Hermione, your hands…" Ron said.

"I'm fine, Ron, just open the jar."

They worked in an uneasy silence after that, except for Hermione giving instructions. Ron tried to ask if she was okay a couple more times, and Hermione tried to make a bit of small talk, but it fell flat.

They barely heard when the bathroom door opened again until Harry said, "It's me."

Hermione jumped so hard that she narrowly avoided toppling the cauldron and ruining the potion. She peeked through the gap in the door to make sure it was really him. "Harry!" she said. "You scared me half to death. Come in. How's your arm?"

The three of them could barely fit in the tiny space. "It's fine," he said. "But I have to tell you—last night, Colin Creevey was petrified."

"We know," said Ron. "When Hermione found out she wanted to start the potion right away."

"Good thinking. But there was something else." And Harry related Dobby's midnight visit, his admission that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened before ("I bet it was Malfoy's dad," said Ron), and his fight with Sonya. Hermione smiled for the first time all day when he told how the elf had tried to defend her. And after that was when Dumbledore and McGonagall brought in Colin, frozen with his camera still in his hands. "But when they opened it, the inside was all melted," he reported.

"Melted?" Hermione said in surprise.

"Yeah, what's that mean?"

"I don't know, but it's a clue. Whatever did this petrifies people and melts cameras."

"Unless it was a spell," Ron said. "Someone's controlling the monster, right?"

"Right," Hermione sighed. "The sooner we can finish this thing and interrogate Malfoy the better. Ron, we need to get those ingredients."

"I still don't know how you think you're gonna them from Snape," Ron grumbled.

"Well, I was hoping you could help me," she snapped. "You too, Harry, if you have any ideas."

"I don't know," Ron complained. "Look, do you even know what these ingredients look like?"

"Of course I do, Ron. I can get them out of Snape's storeroom with no trouble. I just need to be sure he won't see me go in there."

"So we need a diversion?"

"Exactly. Just think of it like a chess game."

"Oh sure, like a chess game," Ron mumbled, but his wheels started turning just the same: "What if…what if we stage a potions accident that he has to clean up."

Hermione's and Harry's eyebrows shot up. It was an obvious, though risky solution. "That could work," Hermione said. "We couldn't sabotage one of our own potions, though, or Snape might know it was us. And we have to decide which potion to sabotage. It can't be anything too dangerous; we don't want anybody to get hurt, but it needs to be something that'll take him a while to clean up."

"But we don't even know what potions he's going to assign," said Ron.

"I might be able to figure it out. Meet me in the library this afternoon."

The boys agreed, and they dispersed after that. Hermione immediately went to the library to pursue her potential lead. She asked a number of older Ravenclaws in different years if they still had their second year Potions notes. It took a while, but her efforts finally netted her a good set of notes from last year and from three years ago, which allowed her to work out Professor Snape's syllabus. It was nearly identical between the two and so far matched this year as well. Hermione wrote out a list of the potions they were would be making up to Christmas and waited for Ron and Harry.

"Whoa, how'd you find all this? Ron asked in disbelief when he saw the list.

"Snape doesn't put a lot effort into his lesson plans. Now, we just need to pick the potion that gives us the best opportunity."

"How about the Sleeping Draught?" Ron suggested. "Put everyone to sleep, and Snape'll have to wake them up."

Hermione thumbed through her Potions book: "No, the Sleeping Draught has to be ingested. It's too easy to clean up."

"Hmm, Alihotsy Draught?" said Harry. "Make everyone go crazy and hysterical?"

"No good. It has unpredictable emotional effects in the intermediate stages, and we'd risk being exposed to the fumes."

"What if we blow up someone's Swelling Solution?" Ron said. "Snape'll have to cure anyone who's swollen up."

Hermione thought about this and looked over the recipe for any contraindications. "That could work," she said. "But we won't be making it until December. If we have to wait that long to get the ingredients, the Veritaserum won't be ready until Christmas."

"Well, unless you want to try one of the others…"

She looked over the list again, biting her lip. She didn't want to admit it, but there really wasn't anything they could use sooner. She sighed and said, "I guess not. But still, Christmas…I mean, I guess I can tell my parents I want to stay over so I can do some more research, but I don't want to leave them alone."

"We can try something else," Ron said apologetically.

"No, no, people are in danger here. This is more important. We'll do it."

Dear Mum and Dad,

I'm sorry to have to give you bad news, but something disturbing has been going on here. There have been two attacks in the castle. The first one was only a cat, but the second one was a first year boy. The weird part is that they weren't normal attacks. They were "petrified", like statues—I don't mean transfigured, just frozen and apparently unconscious, sort of like a magical coma or suspended animation. No one can do anything for them right now, but the professors say they should be fine in the spring after Professor Snape can make a mandrake restorative potion for them.

No one knows who did it or how, but we think it has to do with something called the Chamber of Secrets. You can read about it in the copy of Hogwarts, A History that I left at home. There's a legend that Salazar Slytherin, one of the Founders of the school, built a secret chamber with a monster inside that's going to get rid of all the muggle-borns someday. Supposedly, only the Heir of Slytherin can control it. Draco Malfoy's been acting like he knows something about it all year. This weird house elf who keeps popping up knows something, too, but he can't tell us.

I'm being careful, and the teachers are trying to find out who did it, but it is kind of scary. I'm sure Malfoy would like nothing better than to see me get attacked. Both of the victims were wandering alone, so I'm making sure not to do that. I'm really hoping they can solve it soon. If we're lucky, all of this will be sorted out before Christmas. I'll keep you posted the best I can.

Love from Hermione

Hermione didn't mention that she wanted to stay for Christmas yet. She had plenty of time to decide that for certain, and if there were no more attacks for a while, they would both feel a lot better about it.

Hermione was very tired by the time she got out of Arithmancy on Monday, and she still needed to get back to the Veritaserum. It was tricky to set things up so that she didn't need to be there at inconvenient times during the day, which slowed down the brewing process. Luckily, it had been trivial for her to work out the numbers and put together a reasonable schedule for it.

After a long day of Potions, Herbology, and a thoroughly unhelpful double Defence lesson, Arithmancy was a refreshing break, but even so, she was tired and a bit distracted thoughout the lesson, and people were starting to notice, so she probably shouldn't have been surprised when Professor Vector asked to speak with her after class. "Hermione, are you feeling alright?" she said gently. "You look like you've been losing sleep again."

Hermione looked down sheepishly and shook her head. For a few moments, she couldn't muster up the will to speak. "Not for lack of trying, ma'am," she said softly. "I've just been having trouble sleeping."

"Is something wrong?"

Hermione forced herself to look up. "It's this Chamber of Secrets thing. At first I thought maybe Mrs. Norris could have been a cruel prank or something, but now Colin's been petrified…" She clenched her hands into fists, determined not to let her teacher see them shaking.

"Oh, dear…" Vector stepped forward and placed an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried myself. Nothing like this has happened before in my time at Hogwarts, as a teacher or a student. If some creature—or some person—is targeting students, and we can't track it…well, I confess I've been losing sleep over it, too." She didn't say it, but she was especially worried about Hermione, the muggle-born with such a brilliant intellect, boundless curiosity, and her knack for getting in trouble. It didn't need to be said between them.

"Professor, you were a Slytherin," Hermione said eagerly. "Do you know anything about the Chamber?"

"No more than you do, I'm sure, and probably less—at least for anything certain. True, it's a popular legend in the Slytherin dorms. I must have heard a hundred different versions of the story in my seven years there, all of them different and probably none of them true. One of the most popular versions back then was that Slytherin's monster was an acromantula, but acromantulas can't petrify people—don't worry, I checked."

"And no one ever had any idea who the Heir of Slytherin was?"

"No. People talked, of course—claimed they knew who he was. Even little bitty first years would come in saying their father knew him or some such nonsense. But mostly they just talked about how they'd like to know who he was. I had one roommate who kept saying she wished Slytherin's Heir would come back and—if you'll pardon the phrase—'just get rid of the mudbloods, already'…I never liked her."

"She wasn't Draco Malfoy's mum, was she?" Hermione asked.

Professor Vector blushed a little: "No, I've got a few years on Narcissa Malfoy and her sisters. Why? Has Draco Malfoy been giving you trouble?"

Hermione nodded. "He's been telling me since the beginning of the year that I shouldn't have come back. And when Mrs. Norris was petrified, he said…he said, 'You'll be next, mudbloods.'"

The professor grumbled. "I'm sorry you had to hear that, Hermione. I've been trying to raise the standards in Slytherin and in particular take a stand against that word for twenty-one years, but it's a lonely fight. I'll try to keep a closer eye on Draco Malfoy for you when I can."

"Thank you, ma'am. I've just been so worried…"

"I know. I won't bother telling you not to worry because I know you will. And honestly, it's something that's worth being careful about. But you have good friends, Hermione. Remember that, and stick close to them. There's safety in numbers."

"I will. Thank you, professor."

"Good. How are your other studies coming along?"

Hermione lit up at that: "Well, Jacobians are a pain in the neck to compute, but I'm on track. And I think I've got a good framework for that potions paper. I was hoping I'd be able to start doing experiments over Christmas holidays, but…but I'm not sure I'll be able to. It's not a matter of it being too difficult, I'm just not sure if I can work it into my schedule."

Suddenly, Professor Vector started laughing.

"Professor!" Hermione complained. "What? What is it?"

"Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry," she replied. "It's really not that funny, given the circumstances. It's just that only you could be lying awake at night worrying about the Heir of Slytherin and still speak so…so offhandedly about doing cutting edge potions research on the side."

Hermione started giggling; it was a little funny. "Thank you, Professor," she said. "I think I needed that."

"You're quite welcome. Take care of yourself, and keep safe. That's the best thing you can do right now. Oh, and don't believe any of the older students selling protective amulets."

"Yes, ma'am."

Hermione wasn't quite sure where she was. It was some dark corner of the castle, she was sure, but, impossibly, she didn't recognise it. She'd mapped out every part of Hogwarts at least once, but this—this was completely unfamiliar. She picked up her pace, walking around one corner, then another, then another, looking for something she recognised. From the maze-like structure, she must be in the dungeons, but where?

It was then that she became aware of the footsteps behind her. She turned around, but didn't see anyone. They were always behind her back, no matter which way she turned. She needed to get away from them. She ran—around and around the dungeon. How had it got this big? Was there some infinite part of the dungeons she didn't know about, like the spiral staircase in the Great Tower? Yet always, the footsteps were still behind her, slowly getting closer and closer.

Suddenly, she hit a dead end. She practically ran into the stone wall before she saw it. At the same moment, the footsteps stopped what sounded like just feet behind her. Trembling, she turned around, wand drawn.

He was there! The Heir of Slytherin! She didn't know how she knew, but it must be him. His face was in shadow, but the voice was clear and familiar.

"You should have stayed away," the Heir said.

"P-p-please," she whimpered. "I n-never did anything to you."

"You should have stayed away," the Heir repeated. "You should have listened to your betters. But now, you're going to pay."

"No, please—!"

"It's time for you to meet the Monster of Slytherin."

And then she saw it—or rather, didn't see it, since it seemed to be made out of darkness itself. The monster broke away from the shadows behind the Heir and glided toward her, a black mass like a hole in the air.

"No, please don't! Lumos!" Hermione cried, hoping that she could at least see what she was fighting, but the feeble light from her wand wouldn't penetrate the darkness. "Lumos!" she tried again. "Lumos Solem! Lumos Maxima! Incendio!" But nothing worked. She heard a horrible, cackling laugh, and then the monster was upon her.

"Aaaaiiieeeee!" she screamed and, acting purely on instinct, swiped her wand from the bedside table and shouted, "Lumos Solem!" and the room was blasted with an blinding burst of sunlight for a few seconds before her wand went out.

Hermione heard four female voices scream out, followed by some confused grunting and mumbling. She finally blinked her eyes open. She was in her dorm room. It was barely sunrise. Lily and Sally-Anne had just got up. And she had hit hit Lavender and Parvati in their faces with a full blast of sunlight while they were still asleep.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, what was that?" Lavender whined, throwing an arm over her eyes.

"I—I—sorry," she stammered. "It was…I had a nightmare."

"Oh, sorry. Try not to get jinx-happy next time, though."

"Was it about the Chamber of Secrets?" asked Sally-Anne. That was right, Hermione thought. She wasn't the only muggle-born in her dorm. Sally-Anne hadn't said much about the whole Chamber business, but Hermione didn't think she'd been out of Lily's sight since Halloween.

"Yeah, it was," Hermione said quietly, "or at least the Heir of Slytherin."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sally-Anne offered.

"Um, no, not really. I'll just head down to the Common Room."

And after quickly getting dressed and grabbing her calculus book, she did just that. But despite the early hour, she found that someone else was already down there.

"Hermione?" a small voice said in surprise.

Hermione looked over and saw a small, pale, red-haired girl putting her diary away. "Hi, Ginny," she said wearily. "You couldn't sleep, either?"

"Um…no…" Ginny said cagily. "It's…um, been a hard week?"

"Ugh, tell me about it," Hermione said absently as she cracked her book.

"Well…Colin sat next to me in Charms class," Ginny said.

Hermione looked up: "I'm sorry."

"I don't know what happened," she said. "Things seemed like they were back to normal after Halloween, and then…"

"I know. It's disturbing—students being hurt and no one knowing what's going on."

"Are you scared?"

Hermione leaned closer to Ginny and said, "Yeah, I am, but I'm doing something about it. Harry, Ron, and I are working on a way to find out who's doing this."

For some reason, this seemed to make Ginny even paler.

"Don't worry, we're being careful."

"What are you doing?" the redhead asked.

"Sorry, we should really keep that to ourselves. I probably shouldn't have even told you that much. I just wanted you to know."

"Well…thanks…" Ginny said, but she still sounded pretty nervous about it.

Hermione was a little surprised that Ginny didn't ask about her maths book, but they both sat in silence until it was time for breakfast. Ginny really didn't look like she was in good shape. She looked a lot like Hermione felt last year when she'd stopped sleeping properly. She must be really broken up about Colin, she thought, but Hermione didn't blame her. She was sure'd be just as lost if something happened to Harry or Ron.

"You wanna get breakfast, Ginny?" she said at last.

"Huh? Uh, sure," Ginny said unenthusiastically.

"Come on, I'll walk you down."

"What? I don't need your help."

"I know, but safety in numbers, remember?"

"Fine."

The two girls left the tower to head down to the Great Hall, but today, Hermione had a funny feeling that something strange was about to happen. And when they got to the Entrance Hall, it did.

Both Hermione and Ginny screamed as two orange monsters jumped out from behind a statue and started roaring. Hermione almost turned and bolted, certain she had finally run afoul of the Monster of Slytherin, until she realised the "monsters" were wearing Hogwarts robes. Fred and George had somehow managed to cover their faces in fur and turn their hair into a pair of luxuriant, bright orange lions' manes, and from the sounds of it had consumed some of their lion's roar potion.

"AUGH!" Ginny shouted once she caught her breath. "I told you to cut that out already! You about gave us a heart attack!" She whipped out her wand. "Chiroptera Mucosa! Chiroptera Mucosa!"

Her hexes hit both twins full in the face. Their roars immediately changed to the sound of a cat being stepped on as—never mind the anatomical impossibility of it—fully-grown black bats crawled out of their noses and flapped their wings in their faces. Unable to speak to apologise, the Twins were forced to make a run for it, lest they become the targets of more of Ginny's hexes.

"Wow," Hermione said. "What was that?"

"Oh, they've been doing stupid stuff like that all week to try to cheer me up."

"They thought that would cheer you up? Oh, it's them—of course they did. What was that spell, though?"

"That was Bill's Bat-Bogey Hex. He taught it to me last summer after I got my wand."

"Huh, I'm impressed. I wouldn't have thought a first year could cast a spell like that."

"Thank you," Ginny said with a flip of her hair.

"Do you think you could teach me that spell?"

"Uh-uh, a girl's gotta have some secrets," Ginny said. But she seemed to withdraw after that and didn't speak much at breakfast. Hermione wasn't sure what to make of the girl, but on the other hand, she didn't feel like she particularly had time at the moment.

"Say, Myrtle," Hermione said one day as she was working on the Veritaserum.

She heard Myrtle sniffle and emerge from the toilet next to her. "What?" the ghost said glumly.

"At that deathday party, I saw ghosts riding horses, ghosts playing musical saws, ghosts reading handwritten speeches…How do ghosts get all of those things in the…you know, afterlife?"

Myrtle was silent for a while, and then, she stuck her torso through the wall of the stall above Hermione's head. "I don't know," she said. "I've never bothered with that kind of stuff. I've never needed anything like that, and if I did, I'd just ask one of the older ghosts."

"Oh," Hermione said, disappointed. "If you don't mind my asking, how old are you."

"Fourteen. So young…" the ghost whined.

"No, I mean…including your death."

"Oh…" Myrtle frowned in thought. "I don't really know."

"You don't know?"'

"Oh dear, I think I've lost count. So many of those years are just like a blur to me." Myrtle sighed sadly and retreated to her stall. "Just pining away the decades, no one interested in poor Myrtle," she said softly before plunging back into her toilet.

Hermione sighed, too. Myrtle wasn't much for conversation and didn't seem very well-informed, even by ghost standards. She was trying to be friendly, but the ghostly girl didn't seem to be taking her up on it. It was too bad, though. Hermione was spending so much time in here; it would be nice to have someone to talk to.

A/N: Chiroptera Mucosa: based on the Greek for "bat" and the Latin for "mucus".