Scala ad Caelum

by GRND

Ages ago, a wizard known as Herpo the Foul defied Death and doomed the world and those who were yet to be born. His ambition was put to an end, yet briefly, for the events of the past are bound to happen again as the ages come and go. It is in the present age, as Voldemort's reign of terror is deemed as over, that the Wizarding World would understand the story had yet to finish.

19. The Chamber of Secrets

Chapter 18 is up! The plot advances and gets more interesting!

---

Scala ad Caelum

Chapter 18: The Chamber of Secrets

Ronald Weasley POV

Monday 29th September, 1992 (Charm's classroom, Hogwarts) - Middle of the morning

Ron didn't know how, but October was almost upon them.

Even more than they did during the first year, classes took almost all of their time out; but at least they were more interesting; all of them except Defence Against the Dark Arts, that's it. After the horrible espectacle his first class was, Lockhart could have apologised to them, but he acted as if nothing strange had happened at all. "You all did pretty well yesterday; I knew you could do it, that was why I let those Pixies do as they wanted. I could have ended it in a second, of course, but that wouldn't have been educational at all," the bastard told them, with that bright smile of his.

On the other hand, one of the things that had worried him the most was how Ginny would adapt to the school life; so far, his sister seemed to be doing more than well. It turned out she had become like the girl to go in their first year group, and she was even doing pretty good at classes, from what Percy told him.

"Today is one of my favourite classes of the whole year!" Flitwick squaked, very happily. "We'll be learning the basics of the most special spell: the General Counter-Spell! Now, this spell is far too complicated to understand in the second year of your education, that is why we'll dig further upon it in the next few years. Can someone tell me about it?"

"This spell can be used to terminate the effects of other spells," Nott answered, having beaten even the Ravenclaws, whom they were sharing classes. "It is rather easy to cast, and very effective against minor curses or spells, but it can be used even against more powerful magic."

"You are totally right! You were very interested in the art of duelling, right? No wonder you know so well about this spell; five points for Slytherin!"

"Thanks, sir."

"As Theodore said, this spell is generally used to counter other magic," the small professor explained. "It is one of the most used spells in the world; very simple to understand, and yet one of the most complex ones when trying to master it; in fact, the masters of this spell excel in their use to a point in which Finite is considered as a form of Anti-Magic."

"Did you hear that?" Blaise asked, in the redhead's ear. "Things are getting interesting this year, finally."

He was right, the whole class was now paying full attention to the Professor. "But that is very, very far from your level," he went on. "That doesn't mean we can't learn the basics, so you can reach that level in the future; remember this, the only person who will never achieve what he seeks, is the one who surrenders."

Theoretically-wise the spell was very simple, and every student managed to perform it correctly in the first class. "Now is your turn," Blaise grunted at the redhead. "I'm tired of falling over the mat."

To learn the spell, they were taking turns to curse each other with the Full Body-Bind Curse, so the other had to reverse it. It was one of the easiest things Ron had ever done, and rather simple when compared with other spells; you just had to point your wand at the objective and mutter the incantation, that was everything.

"Well, now that all of you can see how it works, let's take it to the next level," Flitwick said. "Up until now, what you've been doing is reverting the effects of a curse after it hit its target; but you can also act before it is too late; it is always better to stop a curse rather than having to revert its effects; trust me, you'll never know if the effects of an unknown curse can be reverted once it hits the person, but you can always stop it before it makes contact. Mr Nott, try to curse me."

Nott just raised a brow before going at it. "Expelliarmus!" He muttered.

A red spark of light flew towards the Professor, but he just pointed his wand at it. "Finite!" Another spark, this one of a light white, came out from the wand, and when the two clashed midair, they both neutralised each other. "That is how you stop basic spells before they can hit you," Flitwick explained. "This mechanic changes greatly with bigger and more powerful spells or curses, but this is as far as we go this year! For this week, I want you all to master it, so don't worry if you can't get it done today; there is plenty of time!"

By the end of the class, only a few students managed to get it done; the theory and mechanic were the same, but not everyone could aim theirs spells at something in movement; the redhead had been one of the few who could do it, but even he paled when comparing himself with Nott; that guy just had some kind of auto-aim in his wand.

"Flitwick is putting more and more emphasis on aiming at moving targets this year," Tracey pointed out, once they were outside.

"What did you expect?" Blaise answered. "We are second years now; and I'm happy about it, because last year's magic was quite easy, most of the time, that's it."

"Of course, but now there is another thing we must get good at," Daphne huffed.

"You were rather decent," Ron told her. "I wasn't expecting you to be one of the few to get it done on the first day, but you were."

"There is no way I'm letting you finish over me this year," the blonde smirked.

"Damn, talk about mood changes; you only need one compliment and your entire face lits up," the redhead pointed out.

"Quite ironic for you to mention it, eh? You must have not seen your face when Flitwick complimented you!"

Day after day, everything turned into routine; classes, social life, practising magic, studying… There were too many things to do, and very little time to spare; especially when Ron's eyes and ears were paying attention to anything strange that could happen, both in the school and outside of it.

The first Sunday of October came, and the whole group found themselves in the common room for the entire afternoon, hiding from the storm which was falling over the castle. "Come on, let me see your essay," Ron almost begged. "Mine is pretty good already, but Snape told me I needed to get better marks if I wanted to be in the top five for another year."

"What would I receive in exchange?" Blaise answered.

"Don't be such a jerk, mate; you owe me far more times than I do with you!"

"A debt is only valid if you call it forehand."

"You just made that shit up…"

"You can eye mine," Daphne offered, while she played a game of chess with Tracey.

"What?" The two boys said, at the same time.

"Why are you so surprised?" The blond glared daggers at them. "I can be a very generous person whenever I want."

"Thank you so much, Daphne! You are the best!" Ron told her.

"Your welcome."

"And the boys believed the lie," Tracey narrated, as if she was casting some kind of sport game. "What they don't know is that this play will be very handy in the future for the Princess of Slytherin! I can't wait to see Ronald Weasley's face when he realises this is just a trap to gain a favour over him!"

"Tracey!" Daphne exclaimed, throwing a bishop at her, which was easily dodged by the brunette.

"Damn, you got me for a second," Blaise smiled. "Don't know how you could trick me here. You can take my essay, Ron; I was just trying to have a bit of fun at your expense."

"Another unexpected play, in the form of previously unseen kindness, is taking place today!" Tracey went on. "Now is Blaise Zabini the one to strike! If this was some kind of fantasy fiction, this would be what you call a great character development!"

"Are you serious?" Blaise sighed.

"Sorry!" The brunette smiled. "I'm pretty bored, so I wanted to lighten the mood here."

"You guys seem to be having fun," another voice piped in; Nott had come to meet them.

"Theo," Blaise greeted him.

"It's been a while since the last time we talked, eh?"

"What do you want?" Daphne asked him.

"Hello to you too, Daphne. I just wanted to spend a bit of time with my former friends; because I guess that is what we are now. Shame our group broke apart, it was funny; a bit dysfunctional, but funny."

"You could say so…"

"Did you practise a bit during the summer, Ron?" The boy asked, as he took a seat on a couch. "You told me the next time we were to face each other, you'll finally defeat me. But there is no point in a rematch if you didn't get better."

"I got better," the redhead replied. "I'm ready for whenever you want."

"Did you really duel each other the past year?" Daphne asked, looking a bit perplexed.

"You bet," Nott smirked. "Those duels were the highlights of the year for me. You should have seen how I used to wipe the floor with him, back during our first duels."

"Do you mind having a spectator for the next one? I want to see him eating dirt."

"Wow, really?" Ron sent her a sour look. "Are you still so mad about being one place beneath me in the top five? That's disgusting."

"How are…, the others doing, Theo?" Blaise asked. "I mean, you know I don't mind if you want to spend some time with us, but I've seen you around them quite a lot since we came back from holiday."

"Anyone could see that our group was going to break up sooner or later, and I don't mind you guys forming your own; you and Daphne know how I am; I like interesting things over anything. Malfoy and the others came here with new spirits this year, but I'm starting to find them pretty boring again…"

"You told me they were just a bunch of Malfoy's followers, how can they be interesting now?" Ron questioned, more curious than anything.

"Oh, they are, but it turns out dear Pansy might start to show her real self this year; shame Draco and the others are too blind to see it; wait, now that I think about it, Bulstrode might have realised it too, but who knows? Since she never talks, it is a bit too difficult for me to tell."

Even if he is in a good mood, he still has those streaks of weirdness… This was the first time the redhead had seen the whole group interacting with Nott, but so far, things seemed to be alright. "You asked me if I had trained during summer, but have you?" Ron asked him.

"Who do you think you are talking with?" Nott sent him a dead look. "Man, I could beat you with one hand behind my back right now."

"We'll see about it… You might get a little surprise, who knows?"

"Are you still planning on taking part in the World Duelling Series?" Blaise piped in.

"Of course, but right now, they would just make fun of me," the weedy boy answered. "Maybe during the third year, I don't know yet. There isn't any world class duellist right now in the Under-15 category, but that hardly matters, they still are too good for me. Now that we are talking about it, I wanted to ask you something, Daphne; does your cousin plan to take part in any official competition?"

"I don't see it happening," Daphne answered, with a shrug of her shoulders. "My uncle thinks Duelling is just some silly game for the children who want to feel as if they were real warriors. Marcel likes duelling and competing more than almost everyone, but he also idolises his father too much to get into the tournaments."

"That's a pity, I quite liked him."

"How does that work?" Ron asked. "The duelling circuit you are talking about, I mean; I've never heard of it."

"It's quite simple from what I know," Daphne started to explain. "There are three main categories: the Under-15, the Under-18, and Profesional. There is some kind of circuit with different tournaments throughout the year to determine who does classify to the final one and their seeding. That's pretty much what I know."

"Wasn't a bad explanation, to be honest," Nott added. "I plan to take part in the circuit as soon as I consider myself ready for it; the first year I'll get my arse kicked, most probably; but for the second year I think I can be ready to make a good run. There are loads of participants from many parts of the world; some of them are purebloods who want to obtain prestige for their Houses; but there are also loads of half-bloods who want to get a good sum of money, or to be scouted by a good academy."

Money and prestige? That is something I wouldn't mind having, the redhead thought. But from what Nott is saying, the competition has to be very tough… Maybe in the future I could give it a try… those skills would certainly come handy for the future. Gerd had proven him many times to be an excellent teacher, despite that, there were skills he couldn't obtain unless he went to the next level; and practising his spell's accuracy with trees could only take him to certain point; just as the events of the past year proved, when he could do nothing but kneeling in fear against the presence of a shadow.

He had been so immersed in his thoughts, that he hadn't realised the conversation was still going. "Your father will probably make it to the Finals for another year, right?" Blaise asked.

"Yep, this will be the fourth straight year, but he hasn't won any of them yet."

"Oh, I thought he was a world champion."

"He was in the Under-18 category; you can't really compare it with winning at the maximum level, but it still counts for the records," he admitted. "The worst part is that I won't be able to see him competing for the second year in a row; the Finals always take place during the school months; but at least, I'll be able to see the Battle of Nations this year."

"What the heck is that?" Ron asked, once again.

"It is an event which takes place each two years, and as its name says, it is a battle between countries," Nott answered him this time. "This competition has as much prestige as the World Duelling Series has, if not even more; but unlike the first one, here the format consists in three against three battles. If you want to know which is the best country in the world right now, that's gotta be Germany; in fact, they've won the last two editions; but in our category, the Under-15, the last winner was USA."

"Damn, I didn't know duelling was such a popular thing," the redhead whistled.

"It is the second most popular sport, or competition, in the wizarding world; the one on top being Quidditch, of course," Blaise told him. "But while the first one is more open and family friendly, duelling is mostly practised by the purebloods, even though there are many participants from the different blood's status."

"I wasn't expecting to talk about this topic when I came here, not gonna lie," Nott commented. "But it's been great to chat a bit after all these months; unfortunately, I haven't done my Potion's essay yet, and since I am a boy with many dreams, I can't let Snape kill me this son, cya!"

"When he's like this, I kinda miss having him in the group," Blaise commented, once the weedy boy walked away.

"Me too, but not everyone here seems to think like us, don't you think so, Tracey?" Daphne asked, now looking at the brunette with a raised brow. "You didn't utter a single word in the whole conversation; if you feel uncomfortable around anyone, you just have to tell us, okay?"

"It isn't like that, he…, just gives me bad vibes," Tracey muttered. "But I can't tell you guys to exclude other people because of me; he was a friend of yours even before meeting me."

Daphne huffed at that, while Blaise rolled his eyes; but the redhead really pondered about those words. She doesn't feel as inferior as she used to do in the past, but I guess we all have our moments of weakness; hell, even I do; but I just have to smack myself in the face and remember those visions about the future to sod it off and wake the hell up. The real question here is how can I get her to forget that crap…

---

Shana POV

Wednesday 8th October, 1992 (Shawn Manor, USA) - Middle of the morning

Where am I? Why does this place feel so familiar? Shana thought, as she eyed the wooden room she was in. But most importantly, why does the furniture seem to be so big?

The red-haired witch couldn't understand a thing right now. She went to sleep pretty tired yesterday, but today, she hadn't woken up in her room; this was a completely different place.

"Oh, why are you up so late, Shana?" The kind voice of an old man questioned her. He had just appeared in front of her, but for some reason, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

"I couldn't sleep, Grandpa," she found herself answering, the words coming out of her mouth by themselves. "I want that book!"

"Do you want me to read it for you?"

"No! I'm a big girl! I can read by myself!"

"Of course, my dear; here, take your book; but you need to promise me you will sleep after reading a bit, okay?"

"Okay!"

Shana looked at the book's cover; it was simple art, a black haired woman, dressed as a warrior, fighting some creature with a giant axe; with a title that said 'Valkyrie: The Warrior Princess' on the top of it. "I don't understand…" she muttered.

"They are about to come, you have to wake up, Shana," another voice told her; this time, in the exact place the old man was seconds ago, there was some little girl; practically identical to her, but with black hair instead of red.

"Who is about to come? What is this place?"

"You need to wake up…"

The room's door was suddenly slammed open, and three men, with ski masks covering their faces, got inside. "You need to wake up," the black-haired girl repeated. "I can't protect you anymore, I failed; it is time for you to embrace your true self." Just after saying that, one of the men got behind her, and sliced her neck open without uttering a single word, their gazes completely set on Shana.

"You need to wake up," the three men echoed, as they came closer to her.

But before they could kill her, Shana opened her eyes; she was in her room at Shawn Manor. "It was all a dream…" she whispered, as she cleaned the sweat of her forehead with the back of her hand. "But it felt so realistic and familiar…"

This was the first time something like that had ever happened to her; sure, dreams were strange and everyone could have a weird one once in a while; but this was a completely different thing, and that was what freaked her out. Thankfully, the arrival of a house-elf pulled her out of those thoughts. "Lady Shana, there is a meeting scheduled for this morning, Lord Elend is already waiting in his main office," the creature told her.

"Okay, I'll freshen up a little and I'll be on my way," as soon as the elf got out of the room, the young woman sighed tiredly; she had definitely overslept; despite that, she felt as exhausted as she had ever been. It took her fifteen minutes to get ready, but if Elend was at the manor, that meant the man had plenty of time to spare.

For too many years, she had been part of a very powerful group, with enough freedom to move and act as she pleased; but those times were a thing of the past; now, Shana had no other option but going against them, and it was too damn difficult.

The former Master knew the Horcrux both of the groups were looking for seemed to be in a tomb, or at least, that was what Isaac believed; but that was everything.

The problem was that historical records which talked about the Ancient Timeswere a very rare thing, and most of them were at the Great Library, back in the safety of the Tower of Merlin. Thankfully for them, Elend had a few valuable manuscripts in his office at the Department of Mysteries; and that was their only source of information so far.

"Rough night?" Elend asked her, as soon as she got into the office.

"You bet," she answered. "I thought my mind was stress proof, but I was stupid; and it's getting worse with each day we fail to find something."

"Then, you better prepare yourself to hear more bad news; by the way, do you want some coffee?"

"No, thank you; get straight to the point, please."

"Do you remember what I told you a few days ago?"

"That thing about some documents which had prof about Herpo's tomb being in the Isle of Crete?"

"Well, I think they were kind of right," Elend sighed. "But the tomb had already been sacked; from what I found there, I would even say the raid was very recent."

"Yikes, another one," Shana groaned. "It doesn't matter what we think or do, they are always a few steps ahead…"

"Yeah, and that is what disturbs me the most," Elend admitted. "How the hell do they know so much about everything? It still amazes me how Isaac is so sure about the Horcrux being in Herpo's tomb; because if a man like him is going all out with that possibility, he has to be sure of it. Are we missing something here? For the first one, it was a give and take race, and now, for the second one, the only thing we can do is pray for them to leave a piece of information in the place they've just sacked… It makes no fucking sense."

"I've also been thinking about it for the past months, and I've come up with a theory; but, are we so desperate to rely on a hunch?"

"I'm not desperate; it is true we are losing, but nothing ends until the last moment," the blond man stated. "Back during the Great War, we were in a much worse situation, but we knew we couldn't give up; under any circumstances. We kept losing and losing each battle, but we won; because of a miracle, of course; but it was us who stood victorious in the end. Now, I'm fighting against Isaac the First so those times won't ever repeat; only Magic knows what the ambition of that fool would bring upon us."

"Do you remember when I told you about that…, situation I experienced in Croatia?" Shana asked. "If it wasn't for that spirit, we wouldn't even know there was another Horcrux. That was our advantage, but how the hell did Isaac end up knowing there was another one?"

"Do you think that spirit, or whatever it was, also contacted them?"

"No, it is true she looked quite desperate to find the Horcrux; even to a point in which she felt the need to contact me for it. But from what I grasped during that conversation, she didn't want to rely on me; it was something that needed to be done."

"Are you… implying those comrades of hers, the ones she talked to you about, are the source of Isaac's knowledge?"

"I don't know… Meeting that woman was something… I don't think I can really describe it with words. I don't know what kind of creature she is, but it seemed to be locked in that colourless world. She called herself an Essentia, and there are only two things I'm certain to know about her. The first is the one you already know; her only purpose is destroying the Horcrux so she and her comrades can finally rest. But there is also another matter troubling her, and that is the fact her friends left that place long ago to roam the world."

"If she has such an important ambition, why can't the others have their own?" Shana went on. "From what she showed me, there were three of them. One was a little, blue woman, who was accompanying some red-haired kid; the other was some kind of ghostly dementor, who was with a shady-looking man; and the third one, was a little man whose partner was some woman from a tribe."

"That is very little information to work with," Elend muttered, now deep lost in his thoughts. "No matter the approach we try, we don't have a shit about anything. But even in the worst case scenario, in which Isaac and his people find the Horcrux before us, we can always risk everything to a last battle, just like they did with us in Croatia. I will keep looking for information about Herpo's real tomb, but meanwhile, I want you to-"

"You can't possibly expect me to go looking for those people the spirits were accompanying, right?" Shana raised a brow.

"What else can we do? Right now there are two major problems; one is the location of the Horcrux; and the second is from where, or from who, Isaac is getting his information from. We need to act if we want to solve those mysteries; and the best way to do it is dividing the work, just like we did for the first job."

"I know you are right; hell, I've also been thinking about it for some time. But you are asking for me to find three exact persons in the whole world."

"It sounds impossible, but it is the only way forward, and you know it, Shana."

"I hate to admit when others are right and they don't think as I do," the red-haired woman groaned. "I'll do my best, even if that means shit; but it is the only thing we have. From what I remember about those three individuals, the one whose face I'd be able to recognise better was the shady-looking man; I might be tripping a bit, but his features kinda looked to be from the Eastern Europe. And that is a problem, because I don't speak any of those countrie's languages, and neither do I have enough Translator Bracelets; so my disguising skills might not work as well as they should."

"Just write it down on the list of problems," the man tried to smile, even though it looked too forced.

"Did you just try to joke?" Shana asked; half amused, half impressed. "That's gotta be the first one you've tried to crack in a dozen years or so."

"I'd rather try to joke instead of destroying this place because of my frustration and pent-up rage."

"We will make it, Elend," Shana told him, with a firm voice. "They won't win; it doesn't matter how ahead of us they are right now. Isaac and Jordan are doing this because of their sheer ambition; but us? We are doing it for our people, because losing here is something we can't afford. Your objective is to prevent the coming of another Dark Lord; and mine is to stop the First Master before he can do something I'll regret in the future, because I won't allow my innaction to be the main responsible of a disaster."

It doesn't matter how we are going to do it, the young woman thought, as she held Lord Shawn's gaze. I will make him proud. Being a good person and fighting for the weak is the way Grandpa raised me to be; if Valkyrie is too scared to do it, I'll do it by myself. Watch me.

---

Ronald Weasley POV

Friday 31st October, 1992 (The dungeons, Hogwarts) - Early night

"Why the hell did we agree to come here?" Ron grumpily asked, as another pair of ghosts walked above him.

"Well, I thought it could be interesting, but I don't know about you," Tracey answered, as she covered her nose due to the smell of the rotten food.

"Did it live up to your expectations?"

"Don't be so grumpy with me, this party is certainly interesting… not in the way I was hoping for it to be, though."

"Where is Hermione?" Neville asked. "I lost her when I escaped from those wild ghosts."

"She was running from Moaning Myrtle," Harry answered.

"Oh crap, is she here?" Tracey groaned. "You can't let her see me; you don't know how tiresome she can be…"

"Really nice idea to come here, Harry," Ron practically grunted. "We could be enjoying one of the best feasts of the year; but no, here we are, in a place with rotten food as the star dish… Daphne and Blaise must be laughing the hell out of us right now…"

"A promise is a promise," Harry grunted back. "Besides, it was you who agreed to come here."

What a promise it had been… When Harry talked to him about his meeting with Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor, he had been really curious about it; a party full of ghosts and interesting beings? Sure, it wasn't a bad idea; he could even have the fortune of meeting a creature similar to Gerd; but no, there wasn't any of it. It was just a boring party, with boring creatures, and rotten food; a real paradise.

The redhead knew it had been his decision to come here; but it was always easy to blame others when you were pissed.

There was a loud cry in the dungeon, and seconds after it, Hermione appeared. "That was Moaning Myrtle, wasn't she?" Tracey whispered, as if raising her voice a little could invoke the ghost somehow.

"It was," Hermione answered, with a funny grimace on her face. "Peeves made her cry, so I don't think we are seeing her anymore tonight."

"I can't stand this crap anymore," Ron muttered, as some ghosts started to play with their decapitated heads. "Look at them, they are all barmy. I'm sorry for your friend, Harry, but I think it's time to go."

"Let's go," the boy quickly agreed.

The five of them walked away from the dungeon, trying to forget the night. "I can't believe we just attended that party," Tracey muttered. "What a freak show."

"Now that I think about it, these corridors bring me a lot of memories," Neville fondly smiled. "Can you believe it's been a whole year since the troll incident?"

"Damn, now that you talk about it, what a night it was," the redhead whistled.

"That was the first time we ended up in the medical wing," Harry laughed. "It wasn't so funny back then, but what an experience it was."

"Watch the corner, who knows if Quirrell may appear with another one," Ron joked, but after an instant, he realized his mistake.

"What the hell does Quirrell have to do with that troll?" Tracey looked at him weirdly.

"It was a joke we had," Hermione covered him. "You know… because he liked to talk about his adventures with trolls so much…"

"He really did fall unconscious that night," Neville piped in. "I can still remember his face!"

"I wonder what he is up to nowadays," Tracey wondered. "Do you reckon he is a professor in another school?"

"I bloody hope he isn't," Ron said. It had been a close call, but the truth seemed to be safe for another day. Damn, it is so hard to joke when there are secrets in the middle.

What happened to the professor after the events of the Stone was something the redhead didn't know; sure, the Headmaster told Harry that Quirrell was left in a critical condition after the possession, but it had been months since that, and a lot of things could have happened. "What are you doing, Harry?" Hermione asked, out of a sudden.

The boy was clutching at the stone wall, as if we were trying to listen to something from it. "Is that voice again, shut up a moment," he answered. "Can you hear it?"

Ron put his everything into hearing whatever he was supposed to, but there was nothing. "Ehm, are you okay?" Tracey asked, looking a bit freaked out.

Harry didn't even answer, he just walked forward, as if he was following something across the wall. "Is coming from this way!" He exclaimed, before sprinting down the corridor. "It's saying it is gonna kill someone!"

For a moment, the four of them were left completely rooted on the spot, bewilderment clear on their faces. "W-What is he saying?" Tracey managed to splutter. "This is a twisted joke, isn't it? I always knew he liked dark humour, ha!" But her mirth quickly died after seeing how the redhead drew his wand out.

What the hell is happening here? Has he gone barmy? There was no time to lose, because Harry, as the man of action as he was, had started to run up the staircase. Ron went after him as soon as he recovered from the impression, the other three following him as best as they could; even though they still were muttering about Harry's change of demeanour, they didn't abandon them.

"Harry! What are you doing?" Hermione exclaimed from behind.

They finally turned the corner which led to the last corridor of the second floor, where Harry was trying to regain his breath. "W-What is happening?" Neville managed to splutter out.

That was exactly what Ron wanted to know; but the answer was right in front of them. There, in the middle of the corridor, someone had written a very dark message.

The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware…

It was now when the elf's words came to Ron's mind, as clear as water. Bad things are happening this year at the school… Is this what he meant with that? But the message wasn't the only thing out of place; there was a very large puddle of water on the floor, and that wasn't everything. Right under the message there was a shadow, but as soon as they got near enough, it became visible; Mrs Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from a torch, as stiff as a board.

"What…?" Tracey tried to find the words, but they weren't coming.

"We should get out of here, right now," Ron said. "We don't want to be found here."

But it was too late to worry about that. The redhead didn't know how much time had passed since they all left the ghostly party, but as the hundreds of steps indiqued, Halloween's feast had just ended; and the students were already around the corner. It would have been something incredible to observe how quick all the chatter and noise died out of a sudden, if it wasn't because a lot of people were reading the message right now; with the five of them in the middle of everything.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware!" The disgusting voice of Malfoy echoed. "Ha! Seems like your time is about to end, mudbloods!"

Those words reignited the crowd, and the many spectators started to mutter once again; some of them were laughing at Malfoy's words, as if they were some kind of a joke, but others sounded very worried and uneasy. "What is going on here!" Filch, the old caretaker, exclaimed from behind the turmoil. The old man had a bright smile on his face, probably because he believed this was going to be a perfect chance to punish some students; but it quickly died after observing the dark scene in front of him. "My cat! What have you done to her!" He cried, as his knees gave up.

It was a sad scene; even if all the students didn't like the hateful caretaker, seeing a man weeping like that made the redhead feel pity for him; especially when Mrs Norris probably was his only companion.

Sorrow was quickly transformed into rage as soon as he saw Harry near the animal's corpse. "It was you!" Filch shouted. "You murdered her! I'm going to kill you!"

Whatever the man was about to do would remain a mystery, because he didn't move a single inch from his spot; in fact, no one in the corridor said a single word. There was an overwhelming presence in the air, and the redhead was sure everyone could feel it. It feels the same as what Daniel did to me last year… but this one doesn't feel ominous at all… it is just… powerful.

The Headmaster was here.

"What is the meaning of this?" Albus Dumbledore asked, as serious as he had ever been.

Filch was trying to splutter an answer, but the Headmaster just went past him, just as he did with Ron and the others. The old man spent some seconds observing the cat before talking once again. "I'm going to need you to come with me, Argus," he kindly said. "And you five will also come; don't worry, I know you did nothing, but I want to ask you a few questions."

For the first time in what felt like ages, Ron looked at his friend's faces; Hermione was sweating very intensely, muttering some nonsense about them getting expelled; Tracey and Neville were as white as marble, still looking at the cat's body; and Harry seemed to be only one who still was in full control of his body, but it looked like as if the boy was deep lost in his thoughts.

"My office is the nearest from here, Headmaster," Lockhart told him. "Feel free to use it. Meanwhile, I'll revert Mrs Norris back to normality and find the person responsible for this!"

"Please, follow me," the Headmaster told them. "Gilderoy, could you lead the students towards their respective common rooms; that would allow you to act more freely."

"That is such a nice idea, Albus! I was gonna say the same, but you beat me for a few seconds. Great minds really do think alike!"

"You can't shut up for a moment, eh?" Professor Snape muttered, not far from where Ron was standing.

So this is how problems are gonna start this year, Ron thought. What the hell is going wrong with this bloody school…

---

Severus Snape POV

"What do you think, Severus?" Albus asked him, as he massaged his temples.

"There isn't much to think about," the young professor answered. "Those kids just happened to be in the middle of everything; there is no way for them to perform such an advanced magic; and that brings us to the main point here. What kind of magic was used to petrify the cat? And most importantly, who the hell was responsible."

"I find it pretty surprising, but I have no clue about what magic was used here. I've tried to feel every kind of trace in Mrs Norris' body, but there wasn't any single vestige of known magic; at least, one which I could identify."

"That only increases the danger of this attack, Albus."

"Even if that is very disturbing, what worries me the most is the person who did this. Last year, we knew the enemy was inside the castle; we lure him, in fact. But this year… the only ones who could perform such an advanced magic are the Professors, and I'm not even sure if anyone in this country could use a magic which I can't recognise."

"I don't think we have a traitor here, and I know that possibility isn't real in your head; the only Professor we can't trust is Lockhart, and I am not gonna elaborate on why that idiot couldn't have done it."

"There is another possibility," the old man muttered.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened; enemies of the Heir, beware," Severus recited.

"Fifty years ago, something similar happened, and it ended with a dead student. That year, I was the Transfiguration professor; whatever this attack meant, I won't allow those events to repeat."

"From what I know, the Chamber of Secrets was supposed to be a myth; one the House of Slytherin built to scare the muggle-born students. That's as far as I go in this matter; we need your full focus here, Albus; get a hold of yourself and think about every single possibility. Meanwhile, I want to examine that message on the wall; maybe we can get something from it."

It wasn't so late, but for once, there wasn't a single student in the corridors; news and gossip were fast to be shared from mouth to mouth. This has to be related to the Dark Lord, somehow; year after year nothing has ever happened, until Potter came to the school, that's it. Last year, we knew He was directly after everything, but this time, he can't be… there are many unknown factors here, and we will do nothing until we start to get some clues.

There it was, written very clearly on the stone wall, in a colour that resembled a bit too much to the dried blood. With the tip of his wand, Severus touched the first letter of the sentence; the substance which formed the letter 'T' started to morph, and soon enough, a little particle of liquid floated above the wand's tip.

The young wizard smelled it first. This is blood, that is a given; but what kind of blood is it? There weren't many wizards as interested in the field of potions as him; many of them thought it was just a waste of time when they could use it to develop their magic, and that was their problem. The craft of Potions was much more than that; it was art; it was knowledge.

With a snap of his fingers, a house-elf was summoned, who bowed before him instantly. "I need you to retrieve something from my laboratory," Severus ordered her. "There is a very special kit that I need right now; it is stored in a little, green vault under my desk; bring it to me at once."

Thanks to their special magic, the elf disappeared with a soft 'pop', just to come back thirty seconds later; with a happy smile, and the green kit on her hands. "Thank you; you can go now."

After the elf was gone, Severus dropped a few droplets of the blood in a small vial of glass; after that, he used another vial to pour some drops of another liquid into the first one; there wasn't any reaction. One vial after another, none of them could interact with the mysterious blood; and it was starting to irk the young man.

"Severus, what are you doing?" The voice of Minerva startled him. "Do you have something?"

"No, I don't," Severus answered. "Are all the students in their common rooms?"

"Yes, I called all the prefects from the four Houses and told them the situation; we are fortunate to have such capable students."

"Did you see anything strange when patrolling? The message was dry by the time those kids found it, but if the responsible had escaped from the castle, the wards should have alerted the Headmaster; whoever did it, he must still be here."

"What are those vials for?" The Head of the lions asked.

"I'm trying to figure out what kind of blood this is. When I need to do a potion which has blood as an ingredient, I always use some substances to test its purity; for that, I pour these drops into the vial with the blood to test; if there is any reaction, it means it's a blood of good quality, no solutions; the more exaggerated the reaction is, the purer the blood is."

"Any results?"

"None so far; and that means this blood isn't one that is used on the arts of potions with frequency. It isn't human blood, but neither is it from snakes, amphibians, spiders or centaurs."

"That is good news," Miverva sighed. "We have yet to check on every student, but if it isn't human blood, we already know none of them was hurt."

That was something indeed; but on the other hand, all the tests the young man had just run were practically useless; sure, they allowed him to know it wasn't human blood, but there were still endless possibilities, and as always, the clock was against them. "This is all I can do for now, Miverva," Severus started. "I'm returning to inform the Headmaster."

"Good, I'll keep patroling the lower floors for a bit more time."

There were too many incognites, and way too few ways to solve them, and both of the Professors knew it; still, it was the only thing they could do right now. The way back to the Headmaster's office was as peaceful as it could be; silence in the castle was something very rare, and yet, so appreciated.

The stone gargoyles opened before him, and when the young man walked inside the room, Albus was already sitting on his chair, with a calculated look on his wrinkled eyes. "More problems have just been added to the list," the Headmaster stated. "I've received an owl from St Mungo; Quirrell is awake."

That was unexpected news, indeed. After the whole debacle with the Stone, the professor's body had been left severely damaged, and only thanks to Albus quick actions, the traitor was able to conserve his life; even though the state he was in couldn't be considered as being alive at all. "I guess you want me to go there, eh?" Severus sneered.

"Yes, that is what I want you to do."

"You don't want to get your hands dirty with what needs to be done, hmpf. Whatever, I have no problems with it; he is just a spineless weakling, after all."

"A man who once was a very kind and promising student of this school, you mean."

"And a man who became the Dark Lord's vessel."

"Very few people can withstand Tom's assault without getting their souls broken; you should know that very well, Severus."

It pained him to admit it, but the old geezer was right. Quirrell had submitted his body and soul to the Dark Lord, but that was what Severus did in the past; and he did it willingly. "This is what we've been waiting for so long," Albus started. "For the past summer, I tried to track down the man who freed Peter, but it was useless. Now, we find ourselves with the perfect chance to know more about Quirrell; if we are lucky enough, he might have met the mysterious man before he was taken by Tom."

"Those are some high expectations to have," Severus pointed out. "Despite that, you are right. This is the best chance we'll ever have to know a bit more about the enemy; don't worry, I won't let a single memory go unrevised. It's been quite a while since the last time I could practise this much…"

"Go as far as you need," the old man told him.

So the real Albus Dumbledore is starting to appear once again, the young professor thought. It was about damn time, you old fool...

---

The magical hospital was the same as it has always been. The concentrated smell of the potions caught almost all of his senses; he was quite fond of them, after all. There were a few medi-witches and medi-wizards here and there, but since most of the rooms were empty, they were just checking the inventory or doing paperwork.

In almost no time, Severus found himself in front of the reception, on the Intensive Vigilance floor. "Hello, good sir, what can I do for you?" A kind, and old, medi-witch asked him.

"I'm here to visit Quirinus Quirrell, who has been hospitalized here since the last week of May," the young professor answered.

"Oh, you must be one of his colleagues. Yeah, Albus Dumbledore has just notified us about your visit. Mr Quirrell is in the tenth room, have a nice night!"

Oh, it was going to be a nice night, for sure. Severus didn't think twice before coming into the room. There he was, Quirinus Quirrell in person; or what was left of the young man, that's it. Extremely pale and emaciated, what was in front of Severus couldn't be considered as a man anymore; it was just an empty husk of what in the past was a wizard. "What a pathetic sight," the Professor muttered. "This is what weaklings get when their ambitions surpass their talents."

With a few strides, Severus was by the man's side, and not losing any second he placed the tip of his wand on his forehead.

His Legilimency was far from being as good as his Occlumency, but it still was incredibly good; not as it mattered at all, because a husk like Quirrell couldn't defend himself from mental attacks anymore. Despite that, problems came in another form.

It was true the former Professor could do nothing to prevent others from getting into his mind; but what Severus found was nothing but a blur of thoughts and memories; it was like trying to fly atop of a broom through a storm of nonsense.

Quirrell's childhood life; the moment he was sorted into Ravenclaw; the embrace of a lover; the many adventures of an ambitious man… everything came at Severus without any filter. But this was just a silly obstacle for a talented man like him. The mental arts were one of the most difficult branches of magic to master; and only those wizards with enough ambition, resilience, and talent could use them at a high level.

Severus put all his focus onto the task, and after some minutes of filtering, the man managed to get to the bottom of Quirrell's mind; where the most traumatic experiences of a person were archived.

From that point, it was easy to find the memory he was looking for.

Quirrell was standing on a forest's clearing, with his wand pointed at the thicket, when a red-eyed shadow came from it; it was the same Severus faced the month of May, back at the Stone's chambers. It went right through the former professor with little effort, and when he was on the floor, another man came from behind.

A skinny man, wearing full black robes, kicked Quirrell so he could lay on his back; he had sharp features, and black hair combed backwards with generous amount of gel; but what really caught Severus' attention was his smirk; the one of man who thought he was invincible; just like he used to wear on his face all the time, when he enlisted on the Dark Lord's ranks just after graduating from Hogwarts.

He left the husk's mind; it was pretty obvious what was coming next.

What he wasn't expecting was to hear another voice in the room. "Are you finished with my patient?" A medi-witch asked.

Severus looked at her, and the words came out of his mouth before he could think. "Eliza? Is that you?" He asked.

In front of him was Eliza Rosier herself, one former classmate during Hogwarts' years. The woman hadn't changed at all; she still was the same petite witch he knew, with the same round glasses; the only difference was her hair, which was as brown as ever, but now it was way shorter, at shoulder's length; something that suited her face a lot. "The very same," Eliza answered. "Say, are you finished examining his memories?"

"Yeah, I'm finished."

"I hate when the higher ups ignore us doctors and let others interact with our patients," she sighed. "But a petition from Albus Dumbledore is something not many people can refuse, I guess. But who cares about us and our patients, right?"

"Are you finished rambling?"

"Sorry, I'm quite frustrated with that man. No matter how grave a patient is when he comes to you, us doctors always end up blaming ourselves if those people at our care don't recover; it doesn't matter if they are on the verge of death, just like Quirinus was when you brought him here."

"How's he still alive?" Severus asked. "Take no offence, but he should be dead."

"Who knows? Many people consider the human body to be fragile, and it certainly is; but it also fights like no other thing to keep living, no matter the situation. When Quirrell was left under my care, I couldn't help but to examine his mind just like you've done; I needed to understand why and how that man was left in that state if I wanted to help him; but his mind was beyond broken, and yet, his magic was fighting to keep him alive. It is incredible the heights our body, soul, or mind can reach to keep breathing."

"That is the result of a possession," Severus explained, even though he didn't know why. "He was a man who needed to prove something to the world, and that came in the form of exploring and facing dangerous creatures; he just found something he couldn't overcome."

Eliza made her way towards the room's window, which had nice views to the outside. "Quirinus was such a kind boy… it is a shame he ended up like this," she said. "But life has a plan for each of us, it doesn't matter what we try to do to avoid it, there is always something unavoidable."

"That doesn't sound like something a healer would say," Severus raised a brow at her.

"It is what I tell myself when I can't save someone," Eliza shrugged it off. "Back during my first years as a medi-witch, I almost went mad because of frustration and impotence. Thankfully, I've learned to cope with the feeling of not being able to do enough; as long as I try my best to save anyone's life, I have no regrets."

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence for a few seconds. "How's life treating you, Severus?" Eliza asked.

"Good. I have to put up with insolent children on a daily basis, but once every five years or so, a talented student appears; one who understands the art of potions."

"As enthusiastic as ever, eh?"

"How is Felix doing?"

"Living a good life. He is in South America, studying dragons at one of the best natural reserves in the world."

"So, you have no plans to restore the name of the House of Rosier, do you?"

"The House of Roiser is dead, and will remain like that until I'm not breathing," Eliza stated. "Felix deserves a happy life, far from this shitty country, where people still look down on us when they hear our surname. My older brother, Evan, was the last member of the Rosier lineage."

"Is that why you decided to become a medi-witch?" Severus inquired. "So you could make up for all the things your brother and father did?"

"You wouldn't understand; after all, you didn't hesitate to follow Evan, right?" Eliza accused. "Time for visits ended a few minutes ago; please, come back another day if you want to see Quirinus."

In another time, those words would have hurt him, especially since they came from Eliza's mouth; but Severus was way past the point of caring about others' opinions. With a nod of his head, the young professor left the room. We now have the first clue about the bastard who is making our lives impossible; the man who dared to free Pettigrew… that rat should rot for eternity in Azkaban for what he did to Lily… I'll hunt them both myself…

---

Ronald Weasley POV

Saturday 1st November, 1992 (Hogwarts) - After lunch

"Why do you always have to be involved in every single mess?" Daphne complained. "I can't believe you even dragged Tracey with you this time!"

"It is not my fault!" Ron tried to defend himself. "Problems are the ones to find me, not the other way around!"

"Next time is going to be me, isn't it?" Blaise pointed out. "Last year, at the end of May, it was Daphne who tagged along; you know, when you received all those house points to win the Cup in the last moment; something you both have yet to tell us, if I may add."

"Eh… that was some silly thing; besides, I already told you about it!"

"Did you really think I would believe that lie?" The boy snorted. "Come on, you can do better… I don't mind you guys having secrets since I have my fair share of them; but instead of telling me that crap of a lie, just say you don't want me to know; that, or use your brains and elaborate a decent one."

"That has nothing to do with this," Daphne piped in, coming to his aid. "But seriously, what is wrong with Halloween and you? Last year was the mountain troll, and now you happen to stumble into a crime scene."

"A crime scene?" Ron snorted. "You should really stop reading so many books; it is affecting your head."

"I agree with Daphne here," Blaise said. "I think you were incredibly stupid when you decided to attend that ghostly party, but why on earth would you take that detour after it, instead of coming to the feast like any normal human being would have done?"

"Potter was hearing some kind of voice," Tracey confessed. "Or that was what he said, because none of us could hear a thing."

"He was hearing… a voice?"

You shouldn't have said that… great, now I'm going to have Daphne interrogating me once again… But deep inside of him, the redhead knew he shouldn't lie so often to his friends; even if it was necessary, he didn't like it. "Maybe it was some ghost," Ron told them. "There were plenty of them, and some were as barmy as Peeves."

"But Harry said the voice was whispering something about a murder," Tracey muttered. "And just after turning the corner, there it was, the caretaker's cat hanging from a torch with that message written on the wall… it was so creepy…"

"Yeah, that message sure was disturbing," Blaise agreed. "The Chamber of Secrets… do any of you know something about it?"

"I know what everyone does," Daphne admitted. "It is mentioned in the book 'Hogwarts; A History', but the Chamber of Secrets it is only mentioned as an old myth; one which was invented by the first generations of students to scare the muggle-borns."

"Enemies of the Heir, beware," Ron recited. "Doesn't sound very family-friendly at all…"

It didn't matter how much they debated about it, there was nothing they could do. It wasn't as if they were going to ignore the topic, of course; after all, the attack on Mrs Norris was the only thing students talked about in the next few days; just as the twins proved during their Weasley reunion.

"Honestly, if I ever meet the one who petrified Mrs Norris, I would devote my whole soul to him," George joked. "What a heroic act… but Filch is grumpier than ever, and that is bad… Mhm, I don't know what is worse…"

"How can you say that?" Ginny gasped, smacking his brother with force.

"Honestly, you say that because you never had problems with that bloody cat, Gin," Fred commented. "It was a bloody menace… you don't know how creepy it can be to have a cat like her following you around everytime you walk through the corridors; she practically stalked us everytime we got out of the common room!"

"But that doesn't excuse you!" Ginny went on.

"Yeah, yeah; we get it," George shrugged it off. "You've always wanted to have a cat and all that, but that wasn't a kind animal; Mrs Norris was a demon in the form of a feline."

Now that I think about it… Harry said something about the voice wanting to kill someone, but why was a bloody cat the victim? The redhead had as many questions as the first day, and it wasn't like he could go to inspect the place, especially since Filch had been patrolling the corridor for the last day.

"You know what, my dear George," Fred started. "Maybe we should do something about our caretaker being so sad; after all, don't people say laughing is the best medicine?"

"Sharp as always, my dear Fread; see you, losers!"

Laughing very loudly, the twins left the two younger Weasleys alone. "Honestly, they are much worse here than they are back at home," Ginny huffed. "They aren't so cocky when mum is around…"

"How is everything going, Gin?" Ron asked her. This was the first time he had the chance to talk with his little sister alone since school started, and chatting about lightier topics was all he needed right now.

"Do you remember what you told me about Hogwarsts in the first letter you sent home? Well, it is a hundred times better than that! The only thing is that…, well, let's just say some of my year mates are a bit weird; especially this guy named Colin Creevey; he's barmy."

"Isn't that the muggle-born with the camera? The one who follows Harry everywhere?"

"The very same."

"Haven't you discussed with him the chance to create Harry's first club of fans?"

The slap was quick and precise, but Ron was trained in the art of dodging girl's smacks; there weren't many as good as Daphne Greengrass in this regard. "Come on, it was just a joke!" Ron laughed. "Honestly, I swear people don't wanna laugh nowadays. Eh, what's wrong?"

"It is just that… I don't know, but people are… acting weird," Ginny confessed, biting her lip. "I wanted to talk with someone about it, but you can't really tell anything serious to the twins… Some of my year mates are… getting scared about that message on the wall. There are some older students from Slytherin who had been talking about a monster coming for the muggle-borns and the blood-traitors…"

"Oh, don't listen to those idiots; trust me, I gotta see their faces everyday," Ron tried to comfort her.

"You were there, didn't you? When the attack happened, I mean. Did you see anything?"

"Nope, we actually found Mrs Norris when she was already petrified. I just don't know how it could happen… so quick and with no traces left behind…"

"Do you think… that the Professors will find the person responsible for the attack?" Ginny muttered.

"Don't worry about that, Gin!" Ron reassured her, placing a comforting hand on her trembling shoulder. "The Professors are amazing! And we have Albus Dumbledore with us, the bastard who did it will be caught before you realise it!"

---

Harry Potter POV

Thursday 4th November, 1992 (Hogwarts) - Late afternoon

It was totally absurd, to a point it blew Harry's mind; how could people be so stupid? There wasn't anything more talked about in the school than the Chamber of Secrets and the Heir of Slytherin; and that was totally understandable. But, how could anyone really think he was the true Heir?

At first, it had been weird to see how Justin Finch-Fletchley had practically ran away from him; then, Colin Creevey told him about his year mates calling him the Heir, and everything clicked in Harry's mind; people really were starting to believe he was the Heir of Slytherin.

"I didn't know that story about Slytherin and the other Founders fighting," Neville commented, as the three of them examined the message on the wall, which couldn't disappear, no matter how hard Filch tried to erase it from existence.

"Really? It is deeply discussed in 'Hogwarts: A History'," Hermione told him. "But I would say that the new generations of Slytherin quite follow his ideals; honestly, there isn't a single day in which I don't hear them laughing about the monster of the Chamber and how it was going to purge the school."

"Do you reckon… the Heir can be here, at the castle?" Neville asked. "I mean, he is supposed to be a direct descendant from Salazar Slytherin, and there are some very ancient and noble bloodlines here."

"You purebloods give too much importance to the purity of blood," the girl huffed. "I think it is very hard that anyone here could even share a single drop of blood with Slytherin; it's been centuries since the man died! And no book has ever reported about him having some kind of heir. Besides, I refuse to accept that any of those bigots could be someone that important!"

"I think you are looking at the problem with the wrong approach," Neville tried to argue back. "Century after century, the most ancient and noble pureblood families have married among themselves, so it isn't so impossible to think Slytherin blood might still be around. Besides, for the past few days I've been thinking a lot about this whole mess… what if… the Heir is not… well, a direct descendant, you know what I mean?"

"Please, elaborate," Hermione practically ordered him, her eyes showing her surprise.

"What if the Heir is just someone who… embodies all the ideals Slytherin had? You know, about all that crap of wanting to purge the school from the unworthy. There are many students who think that way, and I think that would be way more possible than a direct Heir."

"Neville… that was brilliant…" Hermione muttered, now lost deep on her thoughts.

Honestly, all this crap about the Heir is starting to give me a headache, Harry mentally groaned. But what Neville just said could be correct; there are many bigots in that House… to think the Hat believed it was the best House for me… what would everyone think of me if I told them I almost got sorted into that viper's nest… But, the same must have happened with Ron, right? He must have been in the same scenario I was, but he did the opposite of what I did… Why would he choose Slytherin instead of Gryffindor?

It had been a really long time since he last gave much of a thought to the Hat's words; but in the past days, they've been coming to his mind every few hours. "Here, scorch marks," Harry suddenly announced, trying to focus back on the important matters. "And look at this…, wait, are the spiders trying to escape from the castle?"

"I don't like spiders," Neville complained. "We should let them go as far as they please from here."

That managed to put a smile on their faces, even though the situation wasn't comical at all. "If I remember correctly, the trail of water came from this bathroom," Hermione stated. "Let's look inside."

"We can't," Harry stopped her.

"Eh, why?"

"It's the girl's bathroom," Neville remarked. "We can't go there."

"You gotta be kidding me," Hermione sighed. "After all that has happened to us, you're telling me right now and here, that you can't get inside of the girl's bathroom? I'm done. Get inside, no one comes here, this is Moaning Myrtle's territory; do you remember her from the party?"

"I don't know if that's what I needed to hear," Harry grunted, but he walked inside in the end.

It truly was the gloomist and most depressing bathroom in the history of bathrooms, and that was something. "What is this place?" Neville asked, looking a bit freaked out.

"Told you," Hermione said, with a shrug of her shoulders. "No one gets near here, much less coming inside. Be careful with the floor, it's completely damp." The girl took a few steps forward, and started to talk to a toiled. "Ehm, are you there, Myrtle?"

"This isn't a place for boys," a voice pointed out, from above them. There it was, floating in the middle of the room and eyeing them very suspiciously, Moaning Myrtle made her entrance.

"Ask her if she saw something that night," Harry mouthed to Hermione.

"Ehm… we wanted to ask you somethin-"

"I wish people would stop talking behind my back!" The ghost interrupted her. "I know very well I'm dead, but I still have feelings, you see!"

"We wanted to know if you saw something the night a cat was attacked," Neville piped in. "It's outside from here, and we thought you could have seen something."

"You thought of me?"

"Yeah, of course!"

"Oh, that is nice," Myrtle whispered. "I wasn't paying attention that night. Peeves upset me so much that I came here to kill myself; and then, I remembered that… that… I'm already dead!" She finished with a tragic sob, and with incredible speed, the ghost dived into the toilet; and just like that, Moaning Myrtle was gone.

"Do you understand now why no one comes here?" Hermione asked them. "Well, that was useless, but we needed to try it."

They made their way back to the common room, but the feeling of being lost still wandered around them. "You know what?" Hermione started. "I've been thinking about your theory, Neville. I think it is very possible, but before fully jumping onto it, I'd like to discard my own."

"What do you mean?" The chubby boy asked.

"I've been thinking about all the possible candidates to be the Heir; and having in mind lineages and all that crap, I think the only one who could really fit here is Malfoy."

"Malfoy? The Heir of Slytherin?" Harry said, looking a bit skeptical .

"I kinda agree," Neville muttered. "His family has been in Slytherin since the school was created; I don't know if you have met them, but trust me, they are evil enough to desire the purge of the castle."

"Think about it," Hermione went on. "I don't like it either, and I don't truly think he is the one whom we are looking for; but there is a small chance, and we need to discard it before we keep going. That is how investigations work. Do you remember how furious his father looked after Mr Weasley punched him in the face; in front of a lot of people, no less. Maybe that was the trigger he needed to give the key of the Chamber to his son; or whatever you need to open it."

Harry didn't know what disgusted him the most; if the fact that Malfoy could be someone as important as the Heir of Slytherin, or the fact the blond boy could really desire for the purge of those who didn't have pure blood. "He certainly said something about muggle-borns being the next ones," the boy remembered. "But, how the hell are we going to check that? It isn't as if we can go to his common room and ask him 'Hey, Malfoy! Mind telling us if you are the Heir? Don't do that, man, it is not nice to petrify people'."

"Do you really have to be like that?" Hermione sent him a sour look. "But there is another thing which points at him. Do you remember that elf who warned you? Well, after you told me about it, I did some reading about them; it is really horrible how wizards treat them, but that is not the main point right now; even though it is also horrible. The thing is he hit himself because he warned you, right? That is what they do when they go against their masters' will! Think about it, whose family is rich enough to have a house-elf? Who would be so horrible with that poor elf to make him come to your place to make sure you were going to be okay?"

"Actually, many families have house-elves," Neville pointed out. "But it is true… I haven't thought about it… we need to find out if Malfoy has something to do with the Chamber or not; but how do we do it?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," Hermione smiled, a bit darkly, something that sent shivers down Harry's spine. "I have a little plan for that…"

---

Ronald Weasley POV

"You are kidding me, right?" Ron laughed. "Nah, you can't be serious about that. A Polyjuice Potion? Are you barmy or what?"

"Don't look at me like that," Harry grunted. "It was her idea; I didn't even know that potion existed."

"Hermione? You know that is going to be very dangerous right? And I'm not even talking about all the things we would need to do to get some of the ingredients; that would be around…"

"Fifty broken rules," Hermione interrupted him. "Trust me, I've counted them. But it is necessary! We need to know as much as we can about the Heir of Slytherin, and I thought you agreed with us about Malfoy!"

"I do! It is just… I wasn't expecting you to be so okay with breaking so many rules; forget about getting expelled, you know what will happen if we get caught impersonating other students? Especially if they are purebloods children; trust me, you don't know how much influence within the Ministry they have."

"I know that! But… we need to do something, Ron, and you know it. The first attack was on a cat, but you know who is going to be the next on the line!"

"I bloody know! But what I'm trying to say is this is way too big for us. Wouldn't it be better to trust in the Professors? We meddled last year and it almost ended in tragedy!"

"Well, you said it yourself, it almost ended in a tragedy," Harry pointed out. "But it didn't, and it was thanks to us, because we won enough time so Dumbledore could deal with Quirrell. I know the Professors are doing everything they can and more; well, I'm not that sure about Snape, but whatever. The only thing we want to do is discard options. What if Malfoy turns out to be the Heir? Then, we will tell everything to the adults and let them handle this whole crap!"

"Ahg, I hate when you are right," the redhead groaned. "Listen, do you think you can start making the potion with the easiest ingredients to find? We might be able to get the information from Malfoy without risking ourselves so much…"

"How?" The two Gryffindors quickly answered.

"I have some kind of plan; it might not work, or it might… but I think it's our best chance. Do you trust me?"

"Yeah," Harry answered. "Don't know what the heck you are planning, but if you think it can work… go on with it. The potion can be used as plan B."

"I guess you are right," the girl sighed. "It's true the potion is a very…, risky plan, but I will start brewing it this week."

"Thanks," the redhead smiled at them. "You guys better wish me luck, because I might get my ass wiped because of this."

By the next morning, as the sun went up in the sky, Ron found himself at the border of the Forbidden Forest; at his usual training spot. He should be here very soon… It was a very risky and stupid plan, but it was way better than the potion; all the redhead needed was a bit of luck, something he never had.

"Gotta say I wasn't expecting that invitation," Nott's voice resounded in the clearing, walking towards him with a funny smile on his face. "A note, really? You could have directly told me; but I guess you are still a weirdo."

"Look who is the one to talk," Ron whispered.

"Did you say something?"

"Nope, you must be imagining things."

"So you finally decided you were good to go against me, eh? I was starting to get rusty, though; better late than never, I guess."

"I have a proposition," Ron announced. "If I defeat you, I want you to do something for me."

"Aren't you gonna elaborate?" Nott raised a brow at him.

"Not really; if I tell you about it you might refuse, so I want your word first."

"Okay, I accept."

"What the hell?" Ron exclaimed, he wasn't expecting for Nott to accept so easily. "Just like that? No explanations or whatsoever?"

"I don't care whatever the hell is what you want me to do," the weedy boy smirked. "You ain't defeating me, so I don't give a shit about promises and fake scenarios."

Cocky bastard… I'll teach you to not underestimate me. This was going to be the first duel of the new scholar year, but so far, the odds were against him; he had duel Nott a few times, and he had yet to win one single duel. Despite that, this one was going to be different; it was the only way to get the information about Malfoy without risking themselves too much.

Ron took a stance, just as Nott imitated him; the two wands already pointed at their respective opponents. The weedy boy used to have a quick first step, but much to the redhead's horror, it had become way quicker. Ron dodged the first three spells with a clean roll over, but even before he could get up from the ground, Nott sent an unknown curse at him; one of a light colour.

He wasn't the only one with new tricks. "Flipendo!" Ron chanted, pointing his wand at the ground. The theory was easy enough, but he really had to practise the force of the spell; thanks to the action of the Knockback Jinx, the redhead was sent flying backwards to avoid the spell, even though he also ascended more than what he would have liked. It was after landing when he realized how strong Nott's curse had been.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Ron practically roared. "That thing shattered solid ground! That would have fucked me up!"

"That is a nice Bombarda for you," Nott smirked. "I wanted to try that curse, and I knew you could dodge it."

"Bloody lunatic…"

That didn't stop him from repeating that move once again. The fight went on for a whole minute, one which felt like an eternity; there was a constant exchange of spells, with the two boys dodging everything that was thrown at them. "Bombarda!" Nott chanted, and with that, a tough assault began.

Fortunately, the redhead had thought a plan to counter the Exploding Charm; for that, Ron slowed down his movements, to a point in which he was almost caught by the curses a few times; he needed to make Nott believe he was starting to get exhausted; what was completely true, in fact. The curses kept shattering the ground with their impacts, but just before moving out of the way, Ron was touching the little pieces of debris with his wand; hoping for the other boy to not see through his play.

"Come on, is that all you got!" Nott shouted at him; he was good at hiding it, but he was also getting very tired. "You fight like a little girl! Do you want me to bring some dolls so we can play?"

Just a little bit more… the attack should be almost complete. Ron kept dodging all the curses without going into the offensive; then, with a quick glance at the sky, his attack began. "Flipendo!" He chanted, using the spell to escape from Nott's barrage.

This time, he didn't wait for the landing.

While Nott threw curse after curse at him, the redhead had been levitating little pieces of debris which were the result of the explosions; and now, a great amount of rocks' fragments were levitating above their heads. "Got you!" Ron exclaimed, as he used his magic to launch them at Nott, who was looking at the attack with a shocked expression.

The debris was incredibly fast, but the way Nott's face changed was even faster; now, he was wearing a cold mask, looking at descending rocks with pure coldness in his eyes. "Confringo!" He shouted, as the curse came out with a thunderous roar; this explosion was way stronger than the others, enough to practically disintegrate the debris with ease.

Ron could have easily dodged the Disarming Charm which was sent at him, but he was too shocked to move; it hit him right on his wand-hand; he had lost once again.

Exhaustion hit him like a bludger, and the boy fell on his ass, trying to regain his breath as best as he could; and he wasn't the only one. Nott was kneeling on the floor, his forehead completely damped in sweat, and looking at him in a weird way. "That was the best duel I've ever had, Weasley," he announced. "I never thought you would make me use the Blasting Curse; hell, my body wasn't really prepared to use it after a long duel like that. But I wasn't going to lose; I always win, no matter what."

He had been really, really close to beat Nott for the first time, but he lost like always; and that hurt; but it wasn't even close to the frustration he was feeling right now; his whole plan depended on winning the duel, and now it wasn't possible. With a tired grunt, the redhead punched the ground, as if the pain would allow him to forget how useless he was.

"What was… the thing… you wanted me to do?" Nott asked, between ragged breaths.

"What? But I lost the duel."

"Who the fuck cares? The only objective of these kinds of duels is pure training, and today's one was incredible; so you better tell me about it before I change my opinion."

"I want you…, to ask Malfoy if he is the Heir of Slytherin," Ron confessed, which left the other boy speechless for a few seconds.

"What the hell?" Nott muttered. "I wasn't expecting anything of that… but now that you say it… You got me pretty curious, not gonna lie."

"You don't have any idea?"

"Of course I don't. He is my best friend, but we don't talk about those kinds of things. It is true his family is noble and ancient enough to be some descendants from Salazar Slytherin himself; not direct ones, of course, but they might be one of the last few families with such noble blood running through their veins; most of the times, the different lineages are easy to follow up to a certain point, but since most of the purebloods families had been connected by marriage through the history, well, it is hard to know..."

"So, will you help me?"

"Maybe, I still don't know. I don't really care if Draco turns out to be the Heir and tries to purge the school; nobody cares about mudbloods, either way. But if he truly is the one, and I rattle him, that wouldn't be a thing good friends do."

How some purebloods talked about muggle-borns' lives as if they were insignificant made him livid; the redhead knew he needed to keep his cool at every moment, especially when trying to convince one of those bigots to do something for him; but the day patience was taught, he skipped that class. "How can you talk about other people's lives like that?" Ron grunted. "Many could die! And you don't bloody care because of the purity of their blood!"

"Who told you people were going to die?" Nott asked him. "So far, the only attack was a petrification; we don't know shit about that monster, if it even exists. Besides, do you really think the Headmaster wouldn't shut the school down as soon as things got out of control? If mudbloods weren't to be safe in Hogwarts, then, they won't ever come again; that is a pretty easy way to purge the school without spilling much blood. Besides, if Draco is the Heir… trust me, he doesn't have the guts to kill anyone; even if he'd brag about it."

That being said, the weedy boy left the place, slightly limping.

Ron groaned and punched the ground once again; the final result had been better than he first thought, but it still wasn't enough. Nott could be a double agent for him, but he was totally unpredictable; and that was a very big problem. "Guess we'll have to go with Hermione's plan," he sighed.

"Hold your head up, Ron; that was incredible thinking mid battle," Gerd told him, as she descended from the tree where she had been observing the duel.

"Maybe, but he still won, and thanks to that my plan is fucked," Ron sighed. "You know? I've been thinking about the attack and all of that, and what Nott just said about people just being petrified… have you ever heard of any creature which could petrity people? Because it is said the Chamber of Secrets contains a monster, which was one of Salazar Slytherin's greatest prides."

"I mean, it could be…" the Essentia muttered. "A creature with the power of petrifying is quite peculiar, but long in the past, before I was even born, during the War for the Dawn, there some Nightmares by the name of Gorgons; they were very feared, and had the power to petrify humans with a single look. But as far as I know, they were all wiped out by the Alazthi."

"You think there is no way for any of their kind to have survived until the times of Slytherin?"

"A few of them could have survived the War, and even outlived the Alazthi; despite that, from what you told me about Hogwarts, its founders were born more than a thousand years after the Ancient Times, so it is quite impossible if you ask me. However, I have to say that no one ever fully knew the Nightmares and their capacities; so maybe, it could be possible."

"Great, I love ancient creatures," Ron muttered. "Because we didn't have enough with that bloody three-headed dog, of course…"

"Don't get ahead of things," Gerd sighed. "You are already thinking about the worst case scenario, but you told me there was some kind of Heir, who was the one to open the Chamber; then, let's just stop that person, quite easy if you ask me."

"Why do you think I duelled Nott today? He was my triumph card… and now I fucked up once again and told him everything when I don't know if I can fully trust him."

"You were desperate, and that makes even the wisest people to commit mistakes; you don't know yet if what you did could turn out great, or a disaster; but, what you do know is that stressing about things which aren't in your control is useless; so ignore that and let's work on the next move."

"Easy to say, hard to do; just like always," the boy grunted; but there was another thought wandering his mind. "By the way, I've wanted to ask you something since school started. I've noticed that… well, you disappear way more often than you did last year; is everything okay? "

"Yeah, don't worry about it," the little woman smiled, even though her eyes didn't show the same. "Do you remember when the three-headed dog we faced last year was put to sleep? After that, I told you some of my memories had come back; that was the reason after my…, strange behaviour that day. Since then, they've kept coming; some memories are very lucid… others are just some words or images… but I needed some time for myself, to think about them…"

It has to be horrible to live without any memories from your life… from your family and friends, the redhead thought, his admiration for the Essentia growing stronger for one more time. Gerd sacrificed herself for the most noble cause, but she failed; that is the reason why He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is still alive, even after Harry defeated him… She is still alive because her mission is to save the world; that is the reason why I met her, because she needed my help… An incredible witch like her needed my help; of a nobody like me; of the sixth Weasley… Maybe in the past it was like that, but not anymore; I've changed… no, we've both changed, and we are strong; we stopped Him last year; and we will stop him in the future… I can't give up so easily when I've had it way easier than her… I won't disappoint you, Gerd.

"We will stop Him, Gerd; I promise you will fulfill your duty and get your memories back once it is done," Ron stated, under the very surprised eyes of the Essentia.

You will be able to rest, he vowed, more determined than ever. But before that, we need to survive and stop the Heir before he can hurt more people. Heir of Slytherin, whoever you are… you committed a mistake… there is nothing stronger in this world than the determination of a Weasley… and you'll soon understand.