A/N: I'm posting this chapter a few days earlier than planned, as I'll be out of town for the upcoming holiday weekend. Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow American readers!

"Today's lesson involves the difficult practice of transfiguring animals into objects," said Professor McGonagall, addressing her second-year class of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. "Pay close attention now: one, two, three, Vera Verto." With a tap of McGonagall's wand, the raven upon her desk was instantly transformed into a goblet, to the collective awe of the classroom.

"Now, I don't expect you all to succeed on your first attempt," McGonagall continued. "As always, intent is the key...you must visualize what you want your animal to transform into clearly in your mind. Yes, Mr. Potter?"

Harry, suddenly struck by inspiration, had raised his hand. "Yes, Professor," he said. "Is it possible to transfigure the animal into any object we desire?"

"In theory, yes," McGonagall mused. "But keep in mind that the transfiguring would not be permanent, and it would only be an imitation of the object, not the real thing."

"Right," Harry nodded. "And is it also possible to do the reverse? Change an object into an animal?"

"Yes, of course," McGonagall said snippily. "You will also be expected to master the counter-spell, to return the object to its natural animal state."

"But what if we wanted to turn it into a different animal?" Harry pressed. "Like, say, a rooster?" The class giggled at this ridiculous question, but McGonagall looked unamused.

"That will not be covered in today's lesson," McGonagall said shortly. "Please stick to the basics for today, Mr. Potter. Now, everyone begin practicing."

Harry scowled; that wasn't the answer he was hoping for. He had been studying basilisks in the library for the past few weeks, and realized that he could, in theory, bring a rooster into the Chamber of Secrets to kill it before it could harm anyone. And if he couldn't locate a rooster, what better skill to learn than transfiguring any common object into one? He would have to experiment in the Room of Requirement later.

For now, he focused on the task at hand, focusing on turning the raven on his desk into a goblet. It took him a few tries, his wand resisting him until he blocked out all distraction and fully focused on the incantation, and finally a gleaming silver goblet replaced the raven.

Terry Boot, who had yet to accomplish more than poking his poor bird in the eye with his wand, shook his head in amazement. "I dunno how you do this stuff so easily, Potter!" he chuckled.

"Just a quick learner, I guess," Harry shrugged. It wasn't really fair that he had a full five years of experience on his fellow classmates, but that gap would close quickly if he wasn't diligent and continued pushing himself harder. Hermione had also succeeded in her task by the end of the lesson, and McGonagall awarded the both of them five points to Ravenclaw for it.

The bell rang for lunch soon after, and Harry filed out with the rest of his classmates. However, he veered left down the corridor instead of right, opting to spend his break in the Room of Requirement rather than join his peers in the Great Hall. He felt time slipping through his fingertips as October rapidly approached and he had yet to come up with a secure plan to deal with the diary problem.

Harry ducked behind a tapestry to take a hidden shortcut, but when he emerged out the other side on the fourth floor, he tripped over something small and furry, falling flat on his face. A harsh hissing sound issued from behind him, and Harry turned to see Calvin, his sister's pet Kneazle, looking back murderously at him.

Frustrated, Harry aimed a lazy kick at the beast, but it darted off down the corridor before he could make contact. He heard a soft gasp from behind him, and turned to see a group of third-year girls staring at him, before also scurrying off out of sight. Great, Harry thought irritably to himself. Now they'll spread a new rumor that I'm an animal abuser on top of everything else.

And Dahlia needs to keep a closer eye on that cat, anyway! It wasn't strictly against the rules to let your pets roam free on the grounds of Hogwarts, but you were expected to be responsible for them, and Harry doubted his parents would be thrilled to know Dahlia was already neglecting her duties as Calvin's caretaker.

On a whim, Harry withdrew a bundle of parchment from his bag and unfolded it. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," he said, tapping his wand to the parchment, and the Marauder's Map sprang to life. It didn't take long to locate Dahlia: while most students were grouped together in the halls on their way to the Great Hall, Harry's sister was located in a bathroom on the first floor.

But not just any bathroom...she was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. And Ginny Weasley was with her.

Harry's stomach dropped. Was he too late? Had the diary possessed Ginny already and forced her to open the Chamber ahead of schedule? Was Dahlia about to become the first unintended victim of the basilisk? Heart hammering, Harry sprinted down the hall towards the first floor, praying that he wasn't about to lose a sibling to his own stupidity….

Harry skidded around a corner into the corridor containing the entrance to Myrtle's bathroom. Fortunately, the door was closed, and there was no writing on the opposite wall in blood – so far, so good. But what if the basilisk was already inside the bathroom with them? Harry did not fancy the idea of bursting into the bathroom and finding himself face-to-face with a pair of deadly yellow eyes.

So Harry plunged his hand back into his bag and withdrew a small pocket mirror, which he'd decided to carry around with him in case of emergency. He inched closer to the bathroom door, angling the mirror so that he could see inside once he opened it. At least if the basilisk was there, he would be merely Petrified. He nervously jiggled the handle and pushed the door open, peering into the mirror, horrified at what he might see….

But he frowned in confusion at what he saw: Ginny and Dahlia, leaning against the sinks, chatting away as though nothing was wrong. Ginny's eyes flitted towards the door, sensing movement, and shrieked at the sight of a wide-eyed boy staring at them through a mirror.

"CREEP!" Ginny screamed at the top of her lungs. "PERVERT!"

Harry rounded the corner and entered the bathroom, staring in bewilderment at the two girls. "What're you two doing here?" he demanded.

"What are you doing here?" Dahlia shouted back. "It's a girl's bathroom, idiot!"

"He was spying on us with that mirror!" Ginny spluttered. "I told you, Dahlia, your brother's mad!"

"I was not spying!" Harry denied, face reddening at the awkwardness of the situation. "I was checking that the coast was clear...that you two were safe…"

"I'm going to McGonagall this time," Ginny huffed. "Sorry, Dahl, but I don't feel safe around your brother." And she stormed out of the bathroom, giving Harry a look of pure hatred. Dahlia stood defiantly, hands on her hips, glowering at Harry with a similar look of contempt.

"You shouldn't be in here," Harry said firmly. "This bathroom's out of order."

"I know; that means I have real privacy in here!" Dahlia shouted. "But I guess not, with weirdos like my own brother trying to sneak a peek—"

Harry had heard enough. He stepped forward, grabbing Dahlia's wrist and eliciting a gasp of surprise from her. "This bathroom is dangerous, do you hear me?" he said firmly. "Bad things are going to happen here. Myrtle died in this bathroom, and the thing that killed her is still running loose. Do you understand me?"

"You're hurting me—" Dahlia muttered, struggling to wrench free of Harry's grasp.

"Promise me you won't come near here again!" Harry insisted. "Promise me!"

"Am I interrupting something?"

Harry froze at the sound of the baritone voice behind him. He released Dahlia and turned to see Professor Snape standing in the bathroom entrance, Ginny cowering behind him.

"I confess I didn't think you could stoop any lower, Mr. Potter," Snape said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Spying on young girls on the toilet? Assaulting your own sister? Perhaps I misjudged the depths of your depravity."

"It isn't what it looks like, sir," Harry huffed.

"It rarely is with you, is it, boy?" Snape said grimly. "Come with me. Now." He turned and swept down the corridor, and Harry reluctantly followed, ignoring the heated glares of the two girls boring a hole into the back of his head.

Snape led him downstairs and into his office, slamming the door shut behind them. Harry sat nervously in the wooden chair opposite Snape's desk as the man stood impassively over him, arms crossed, as though deciding what to do with him.

"Explain yourself," said Snape.

"I don't think I could if I tried," Harry sighed. "Look, I know what it looks like, but I'm not some kind of voyeur."

Snape settled into his own chair, surveying Harry silently. Harry had noticed that the man was not as bitter and malevolent towards him in this timeline...he wondered what might have changed to cause such a behavioral shift this time around. Perhaps his parents' survival had softened Snape's view of them with time.

"I received quite the interesting owl yesterday morning," said Snape eventually. "From your mother. Would you like to know what it said?"

"My mother writes to you?" Harry asked, surprised.

"From time to time," Snape shrugged. "Usually for potions advice. This time, however, she expressed concerns about your behavior as of late. Were you aware that your sister has been writing home, lamenting the burden of being associated with you?"

"Is my reputation that bad?" Harry groaned.

"Think about it from the perspective of the other students," said Snape. "You're the son of a famous and wealthy Auror. You make no effort to be friends with your classmates, you show them up in every lesson, and you constantly meddle in others' affairs. Couple that with your alleged infatuation with a vulnerable first-year girl, your injury of Cho Chang on the Quidditch pitch, and of course the rumors of your involvement with Quirrell's death...I cannot imagine why you would have such a reputation."

Harry felt hot shame creep up into his face at his words. He hadn't considered how differently people might perceive him in this timeline. Before he was the Boy Who Lived, an orphan and a survivor...of course no one would question him being a bit of a loner. But now he was a spoiled rich kid, one who flaunted his talents and treated the rules (and his peers) as though they were beneath him. It was no wonder he was regarded with mistrust and disdain.

"You're right," Harry muttered, staring down at his shoes. "I haven't made much of an effort to connect with my classmates. But I assure you all the rumors about me aren't true. Everything I do is for good reason."

"And what reason might that be?" Snape pressed.

Harry hesitated, unsure of how much he should share with Snape. He oddly felt that he could trust the man, but feared that he would go running straight to Dumbledore with whatever he divulged. But the looming specter of the Chamber of Secrets, and the threat of the basilisk, superseded any such concerns. "It's about these visions I've been having…" Harry sighed.

"The Headmaster instructed you to go straight to him with these visions of yours," Snape snapped. "You are not meant to pursue them on your own."

"I know that," Harry huffed. "But time was of the essence, okay? I had to make sure...I thought Dahlia was in danger…"

"In danger?" Snape scoffed. "In a bathroom?"

Harry looked up into Snape's black eyes. He felt a small prod of Legilimency, and instinctively threw up Occlumency barriers to block it. But instead, desperate for someone to understand, he let Snape in and fed him a memory. Of a cold and wet chamber...of a girl lying prone and near death, a diary beside her...of a blinded basilisk, raging and deadly, snapping at Harry as he desperately swung the Sword of Gryffindor at it….

Snape pulled out of Harry's mind at once, looking at him with alarm. "What have you just showed me?" he demanded. "What is that room?"

"The Chamber of Secrets," Harry said at once. "Do you know of it? I think someone is going to try to open it."

"My mother told me stories about it from her own school years," Snape muttered thoughtfully. "But who would dare open it again now?"

"Ginny Weasley," said Harry. "But not of her own accord. She's being possessed by a cursed diary and made to do its bidding. It will lead her to unleash Slytherin's monster and target Muggle-borns in the school, just like last time."

"You cannot possibly know all of this for certain," said Snape harshly. "Your conjecture is not always based in reality, Potter...need I remind you what happened to Professor Quirrell?"

Harry's stomach dropped at this reminder – he still felt terrible guilt about his involvement in the man's death. "Still, I believe my visions mean something, even if they aren't always fully accurate," he said defensively. "If this one is even partially true, it should be dealt with straight away, wouldn't you agree?"

Snape contemplated this. "A basilisk, in a hidden chamber somewhere in the school?" he said dryly. "Yes, I suppose that would be cause for concern. I will bring the matter to Dumbledore and assess how we ought to proceed."

"Wait, no!" Harry blurted out, earning a raised eyebrow from Snape. "Erm...I mean, do we really need to concern the Headmaster with this? Couldn't McGonagall just confiscate the diary from Ginny and avoid needing to involve him? I'm sure he's a very busy man."

He could tell from Snape's expression that the man did not buy Harry's logic one bit. "I know you're hiding something, Potter," Snape said coldly. "I do not know what it could be, but out of respect for your mother, I will not share this belief with the Headmaster. Albus Dumbledore is a powerful wizard, and I would not recommend aligning yourself against him."

"I'm n-not!" Harry stammered in alarm. "He just...he intimidates me, that's all."

"That, I can believe," Snape sneered. "I suggest you start being more forthright, Mr. Potter, unless you'd like a repeat of last year's events. And I also suggest keeping your distance from Miss Weasley for now, lest you incur the wrath of her overly-protective brothers. Dismissed."

Harry nodded and exited the office. He felt that things could have gone worse – he had avoided detention, for one thing, and there was now a chance that the diary would be dealt with before Halloween. He was still sure to receive scorn from his peers, however, once word of the bathroom incident spread. Maybe that's why Snape let me off easy, Harry thought miserably. He knows better than anyone that being ostracized by your peers is the worst punishment of all.

Snape's words weighed heavily on Harry in the coming weeks. He had begun to pay more attention to how other students behaved around him, and found that the man's assessment had been correct: people saw him as aloof and entitled. So he began making a greater effort to connect with them – inviting his dorm mates for a game of Gobstones, joining his classmates for meals, and asking people how their day was going. It was stilted at first, but slowly people began to relax around Harry and trust that he had no ulterior motives.

Harry also sought out Cho Chang ahead of the first Ravenclaw Quidditch practice of the season, catching her on the way into the locker rooms. "I wanted to apologize for my actions in tryouts," he said. "I was frustrated and did something stupid. I hope you can forgive me for being a poor sport."

Cho regarded him suspiciously, but softened slightly at his sincere words. "It was rather stupid of you," she agreed. "Just don't get in my way again, Potter." It was an icy response, but no better than Harry deserved, and she at least graced him with a handshake. Harry made a similar apology to Roger Davies when he arrived, earning another begrudging acceptance. He had work to do in order to truly win the respect of the team back, but any progress was still welcome.

Harry was permitted to join the team for warm-up drills, but was relegated to the sidelines once team strategy talk began. Harry's instinct was to sulk and wallow in self-pity, but he swallowed his pride and remained engaged, paying attention to the team's activities. He also made sure to applaud and shout encouragement to his teammates when they made a good play, to prove that he was being a team player. The first couple of times they threw odd glances in his direction at these outbursts, but eventually accepted the praise without comment.

After joining the team in the showers, Harry headed down the hill towards Hagrid's hut. He'd been meaning to patch up his relationship with the half-giant ever since their ill-fated detention in the Forbidden Forest, but hadn't found the time. And right now, Harry felt that he needed to devote more of his time to building up his social capital, rather than neglect everyone else in favor of his studies.

He found the man in the garden outside his hut, cultivating some of the biggest pumpkins Harry had ever seen. "Hiya, Hagrid!" Harry shouted in greeting.

Hagrid looked up and frowned when he saw who it was. "Oh...Potter, is it?" he said. "Can I help yeh with something?"

"Actually, I thought I'd ask you the same thing," Harry offered. "I was walking by and saw that you looked rather busy."

Hagrid contemplated this for a few seconds, then shrugged. "S'pose an extra set o' hands couldn' hurt," he muttered. "Yeh wanna help me collect eggs?"

Hagrid showed Harry to the chicken coop just down the path, where several dozen hens sat clucking away in their cages. "Jus' stick yer hands in there an' grab any eggs yeh can reach," said Hagrid. "Throw 'em in the basket with the others."

Harry obliged, ignoring the painful pecks of some of the mother hens as he claimed their offspring. "I only see female chickens here, Hagrid," Harry remarked. "Where are the roosters?"

"Oh, well, about tha'," Hagrid said sullenly. He pointed to a separate, smaller coop a few feet away, which lay open and empty. "Used to keep a couple of 'em here fer reproductive purposes. But summat got into the cage an' killed 'em a few nights ago."

Harry's stomach fell at this news. Ginny had slaughtered Hagrid's roosters in the previous timeline, and this was yet another piece of evidence that Riddle's diary was already working its influence on her and preparing to unleash the basilisk. "That's awful," Harry said. "That must have been difficult for you to discover."

"Yeah...yeah," Hagrid said softly. Harry saw that the half-giant was near tears; he knew how much the man loved his animals and how heartbroken he must have been by their slaughter. "Nothin' ter be done about it, 'cept to keep a closer eye on the rest."

"Will you be getting more roosters soon?" Harry asked. "You know, to keep the population strong?"

"Not 'til spring, mos' likely," Hagrid shrugged. "They aren' native to the area, and winter's comin' soon. We got enough meat frozen to last us 'til March or April at least."

"I see," Harry frowned. Then, another idea struck him. "What did you use to feed the roosters?"

"Chicken feed, same as the hens," said Hagrid, pointing to a large sack of what looked like grain hanging from a post.

"D'you think I could take a little bit back to the castle with me?" Harry asked.

"What for?" Hagrid asked suspiciously.

"I, uh...I found an injured crow, up in the Astronomy Tower," Harry lied. "I've been nursing it back to health, and figured I could bring it some food to help it regain its strength."

Harry hoped that this fib would tug on the animal-lover's heartstrings, and it seemed to work perfectly. "Blimey, tha's mighty kind of yeh, Potter," said Hagrid with a small sniffle. "Sure, feel free to take a scoop."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry beamed. In truth, he hoped the feed would make it easier to learn how to transfigure a rooster. According to the textbooks he'd consulted on the matter, animal transfiguration worked best when using objects that are associated with the animal in question. For instance, ravens were attracted to shiny objects, making them ideal candidates to be turned into silverware like goblets (and vice versa). Hopefully by carrying around a small amount of rooster feed, Harry could successfully conjure the bird if he ever came across a certain serpent with a death glare.

After competing his task with the eggs, Harry bid Hagrid farewell, promising to come back and visit for tea sometime. It was nice to spend quality time with the people he cared about again, but he knew he still had to remain diligent and use his spare time wisely. Halloween was rapidly approaching, and he still felt trepidation about things going even more poorly than before. Hogwarts had been lucky to survive the basilisk with only a handful of petrifications last time – what if someone got a full look into the snake's eyes this time around?

Still, Harry felt lighter and happier than he had in months. Spending more of his time socializing was doing wonders for his mood – he'd forgotten just how starved for friendship he was in his first year. Luna was a wonderful reprieve from his studies, never failing to entertain him with her wild theories and bluntly-honest observations, and his dorm mates invited him to more gatherings now that they knew he would actually accept every once in a while. He also checked in with the trio every once in a while – Neville, Ron and Hermione were as tight as ever, and while Ron seemed wary of him, they accepted his presence whenever he approached.

But the good times would not last forever. Harry found himself walking alone one Friday afternoon as he left the Charms classroom for the seventh floor, intending to cram in some transfiguration practice in the Room of Requirement before dinner. But he sensed danger as he entered a narrow corridor, and turned to find Fred and George Weasley stalking towards him, wands drawn.

"We warned you about messing with our sister," Fred growled. "You think you can peep on her in a bathroom and get away without consequences?"

"I promise you this is all a misunderstanding," Harry said calmly, though he too drew his wand and kept it out at his side. "We don't need to be enemies."

"You expect us to just look the other way while you ogle our sister?" George demanded. "D'you think we're thick, Potter?"

"I think you're brilliant, actually," Harry said honestly. He'd seen first-hand how talented they were with charm work, and knew that despite his greater combat experience, they would be dangerous opponents in a duel – especially two on one.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Fred warned. "We're going to show you what happens when you mess with a Weas—"

Harry had no intention of seeing what the twins had in store for him. He twirled his wand and aimed it at a suit of armor on the wall, which sprang to life and ran headlong at Fred and George. The twins were startled into action, desperately casting hexes and jinxes at the thing, which pinged harmlessly off its metal shell. By the time one of them wised up with a Finite Incantatem to end the Animation Charm, Harry was halfway down the corridor, sprinting away from the twins.

Harry rounded a corner and dove through a false wall, which he knew was concealing a small alcove thanks to the Marauder's Map. The twins – who had never had access to the Map in this timeline – ran right past him, oblivious to the existence of his hiding spot. Harry pulled out the Map to ensure the coast was clear before sneaking out of the alcove and up several flights of stairs, keeping distance between himself and the twins until he was safely in the Room of Requirement.

Hopefully I can patch things up with the Weasleys soon enough, Harry thought. While he appreciated having loving parents in this timeline, he still missed Molly and Arthur, and knew the twins and Ginny would grow to be trustworthy friends as well. This year was bound to drive them apart as he fought to wrench the diary out of Ginny's hands, but once they realized the truth they would surely forgive him. Right?

Harry did his best to put the incident out of his mind by throwing all his effort into transfiguring a rooster. He had several piles of chicken feed set up on various tables throughout the room, trying to see how many roosters he could generate at the same time. Right now he was struggling to get just one; his first few attempts resulted in the vague shape of a rooster being formed, but it crumbled back into feed before it could solidify itself.

Harry didn't even know if this plan would work in the first place. Could a transfigured rooster even make sound like a real rooster? Would the cry of a transfigured rooster even affect the basilisk, or was a real one required to kill it? What if he wasn't able to reliably produce a rooster at all when confronted with the snake? But he couldn't afford to second-guess himself right now, so he put such doubts out of his mind and continued practicing.

With Halloween just a few days away, Harry stayed behind after a Potions lesson to confront Snape. "Can I help you with something, Mr. Potter?" the professor drawled.

"I wondered if...if you've had any success locating the diary yet," Harry asked awkwardly. "Has Ginny Weasley been searched?"

Snape gave Harry an odd look at this question. "As a matter of fact, Potter, she has," he said coolly. "I informed Minerva McGonagall that I believed she had a Dark artifact in her possession, which triggered a search of her dorm. No such diary was recovered from her belongings."

That's not good, Harry thought. "Is it not possible that she hid it somewhere McGonagall couldn't find?" he wondered aloud.

"Is it not also possible that your visions have, once again, led you astray?" Snape asked sharply.

"But—" Harry tried to protest, but he couldn't exactly reveal what he knew without admitting his Seer abilities were a fabrication. "I just have a really bad feeling about Halloween. I think that's when something bad is going to happen."

"Then I suggest," Snape growled, pinning Harry with a severe look, "that you do not put yourself in any compromising positions that day, lest you get yourself into yet another situation you cannot explain your way out of."

Harry was supremely frustrated by this obvious dismissal. Snape clearly did not believe him – and why should he? His predictions about Quirrell last year had proven disastrously wrong, after all. But things were progressing almost identically this year to his last timeline, and Harry worried that the basilisk could cause far more havoc this time than a few Petrified students.

But there was no point arguing with Snape about it now, so Harry hustled off to rejoin his students (lest he find himself alone and vulnerable to the Weasley twins again). If he couldn't convince the staff that something was wrong, he would have to take matters into his own hands once again. But he had to be smarter about it than he was during the Philosopher's Stone incident – he couldn't just charge in blindly and hope to fix everything. He had to plan ahead.

So he prepared a stakeout. Harry researched alarm wards (which were thankfully easy to set up) and placed one over the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He would know if anyone came in or out, including a murderous serpent. He consulted the Marauder's Map multiple times a day, checking on Ginny's whereabouts. So far everything seemed normal; she spent much of her time in the library with Dahlia or in Gryffindor Tower. And speaking of Dahlia, Harry was pleased to see that she had taken his advice and avoided Myrtle's bathroom entirely, instead frequenting another lesser-used one near the dungeons. Maybe she is listening to me after all, Harry thought hopefully.

Harry also spent every afternoon and evening in the Room of Requirement continuing his transfiguration practice. He had finally managed to conjure multiple roosters at once, though he was now having difficulty getting them to crow. Hopefully, under threat of being eaten by a hungry serpent, the birds would have the wherewithal to protest vocally.

But that was only Plan B anyway. Plan A was to catch Ginny in the act of trying to enter the Chamber, and taking the diary straight to Dumbledore. Harry was prepared to spend hours camped inside Myrtle's bathroom, if it meant saving his fellow students from a gruesome fate.

They had regular classes on Halloween, but Harry was too distracted to pay attention. Even Flitwick seemed cross with Harry, docking him two points for zoning out and missing his cue when the professor asked him a question. Why should Harry care about second-year material when the school could be hours away from tragedy?

When the final class of the day released, Harry hung back from his classmates, ditching them en route to the Halloween Feast and heading for the first floor corridor. He walked into Myrtle's bathroom, hearing the small ping of the alarm ward in his head as the door entered one of the stalls and settled atop the rickety toilet, prepared to sit for as long as it took to catch Ginny in the act.

Harry sat with his back to the door, a mirror propped up in front of him to keep an eye on it through the reflection (just in case). He pulled out the Marauder's Map every few minutes, keeping tabs on Ginny's whereabouts. He spotted her name in a mass of Gryffindors headed to the Great Hall, but eventually lost her in the sea of hundreds of students crammed into one space on the tiny bit of parchment. It was one of the flaws of the Map: it had difficulty distinguishing between multiple people in close proximity to one another.

In the meantime, he focused his energies on the small pile of chicken feed at his feet, practicing his transfiguration. "Vera Verto," he whispered, conjuring the silent rooster once more, before canceling the effect and returning it to feed. He still wasn't sure if the conjured rooster would even work against the basilisk, but it was a better plan than fist-fighting it and dying a horribly painful death.

"What are you doing here?!" a voice demanded, startling Harry so badly that he nearly toppled off the toilet. He hadn't heard the alarm ward go off, but realized why when he turned to see Moaning Myrtle staring at him, looking affronted at his presence.

"Hello, Myrtle," Harry said in terse greeting. "I'm making sure nothing bad happens in here tonight."

"Nothing bad ever happens here," Myrtle protested. "Except when you're involved! Like when you harassed those two poor girls last month—"

"I was not harassing them!" Harry shouted. "And besides, bad things have happened here...isn't this the place where you died?"

Myrtle was shocked into silence for a moment, then burst out into a great wail. "How dare you remind me of that awful day?" she demanded, and she swooped directly through Harry and into the toilet beneath him, sending water shooting upwards and soaking him head to toe. Harry swore; he pulled out his wand and hastily cast a Drying Charm on himself. Why couldn't things ever go smoothly for him these days?

Suddenly, Harry heard something that made the hairs on the back of his head raise: footsteps. The alarm ward didn't go off, Harry thought. Was someone already in here with me...or did they just arrive from somewhere else?

Had he missed Ginny entering the Chamber? Was she heading into the Chamber, or on her way out of it, with a companion in tow? He was momentarily frozen, unsure if he ought to chance a look into the mirror….

Then a pair of rough hands grabbed Harry from behind and lifted him to his feet, spinning him around. Harry slammed his eyes shut, wondering if perhaps he was in the clutches of the Heir of Slytherin and being forced to look upon the eyes of the basilisk….

"Open your eyes, you foolish boy."

Harry reluctantly did so, and found himself face to face with the black eyes of Severus Snape. "I thought you might be up to no good," the professor said with a glint of annoyance in his eye. "You did not appear for the Halloween Feast, so I came looking for you in the one place I knew you'd likely be. And lo and behold, here you are, with flimsy wards set up and everything."

"I'm just keeping an eye on things," Harry stammered. "I swear I'm not—"

"I thought I told you not to stick your nose in things you don't fully understand," Snape growled. "And once again, you've found yourself in quite the compromising position. What if a girl had walked in here and found you sitting where you are now?"

"My reputation's already shot," Harry said stubbornly. "Might as well embrace it, if it means saving the school."

"Saving the school," Snape scoffed. "You're even more arrogant than your father, Potter. Come with me." And he once again led the way out of Myrtle's bathroom towards his office, with Harry following close behind.

"You may not realize it, Potter, but I've bent over backwards to protect you these past few weeks," Snape lectured Harry as they walked towards the dungeons. "If I didn't respect your mother so much, I would have reported you to Dumbledore several times over for your boorish behavior."

"Uh huh," Harry said glumly, not really in the mood to be reprimanded.

"But you continue to force my hand," Snape continued as he rounded a corner. "I cannot keep covering up your misdeeds if you refuse to learn from your mist—"

Snape abruptly cut off mid-sentence, and Harry nearly ran into the man when he also froze mid-step in front of him. It took a moment for Harry to realize why. They had just walked into Central Hall, en route to Snape's office in the dungeons. The cavernous space was empty, but Snape's eyes were fixed upon something at the center of the hall. Harry inched around the man and took a shuddering breath at what he saw.

There was something suspended from the statue of a unicorn adorning the large fountain at the center of the room. Something small, furry and brown. For a split second, Harry thought it must be Mrs. Norris, as in the first timeline. But when they got closer, he saw that it was in fact Calvin, Dahlia's Kneazle. It was frozen in a rigid posture, as though in mid-step, and smoking slightly. Petrified.

"Oh, Merlin," Snape muttered under his breath. Harry noticed that the man was not looking at the cat. He was staring down at the marble floor, slick with both water and blood. A message was scrawled in the sticky red substance, an all-too-familiar message that made Harry groan:

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

"P-professor…?" Harry began uncertainly, but Snape held up a hand for silence, drawing his wand with a flourish.

"Expecto Patronum," Snape muttered. A great silvery bat emerged from Snape's wand, fluttering in the air before them. "Send for Dumbledore. Tell him it's urgent." The bat immediately flew away from the hall and out of sight down a corridor.

"Sir, we need to find Ginny Weasley," said Harry at once. "If you'll just give me that bit of parchment back—"

"We do nothing under the Headmaster arrives," Snape said shortly. He was scrutinizing the scene, as though trying to determine how best to proceed. "Speak of this to no one, Potter."

"That might be difficult," Harry muttered as he turned at the sound of a commotion. Students were pouring into the Hall, fresh off the Halloween Feast on their way back to their dormitories. There were gasps and shrieks of surprise and fear as they realized the scene they had just walked upon, cramming into the space as everyone jostled for a better view of what was happening.

"Everyone stay back," Snape instructed the crowd. "Make room for the Headmaster."

There was suddenly a loud wail of despair, and a first-year girl forced her way to the front of the crowd towards the fountain. "Calvin!" screamed Dahlia, a look of horror on her face. "Who did this?!"

"That boy did it!" another girl in the crowd yelled, pointing a finger at Harry. "We saw him try to kick it the other day!"

"That's not true!" Harry protested. "I mean...I did try to kick it, but I didn't do this—" But Dahlia now looked at Harry with a look of utmost betrayal and shock, clearly not buying a word he said. Harry was at a loss for words as seemingly the entire student body stared at him with horror.

Dumbledore arrived soon after, radiating intense energy that had students scrambling out of his way. He quickly surveyed the scene, turning to share a grim look with Snape. "Everyone please return calmly to your dormitories," he said in a calm but authoritative voice. "We must lock down the school and find the culprit."

"Sir, please, I know who did it!" Harry said aloud, once again feeling all eyes in the room upon him.

"Who, Mr. Potter?" asked Dumbledore calmly.

Harry blanched; he didn't exactly want to out Ginny to the entire school, not when she wasn't in full control of her own actions. "I can't say here," he said slowly. "But I know where the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets is. I can take you there now."

There were quiet murmurs throughout the gathered crowd at this – mingled surprise and doubt. Dumbledore and Snape both looked at Harry oddly. "Very well," said Dumbledore. "You will escort myself and Professor Snape there at once."

"We'll need a Parselmouth to open it," Harry said.

"Preposterous," Snape scoffed. "There are no living Parselmouths in all of magical Britain."

"Neville is one," Harry corrected, pointing out the boy in the crowd. "He can help us."

The crowd seemed to part for Neville as the confused boy was thrust forward towards them. "That's not true," Ron Weasley defended his friend. "Tell them it's not true, Neville!"

"Erm…" Neville stammered, going very red in the face. "Yeah, it is."

Again the crowd broke out in whispers of disbelief at this revelation. Harry kicked himself mentally for spilling Neville's secret, but right now, he was focused on one thing only: dealing with the Chamber now before it became an even bigger issue.

Snape looked equally as shocked by the news as everyone else, but Dumbledore did not appear fazed one bit. "Very well," he said placidly. "Lead the way, Mr. Potter. Mr. Longbottom, if you would be so kind as to join us?"

So Harry, trailed by Dumbledore, Snape and Neville, led the way out of Central Hall, headed for the first floor corridor where Myrtle's bathroom lay. Harry knew that students would be stealthily following the group from a distance, despite the orders to return to their common rooms. With any luck, this would be the conclusion of the intrigue for the rest of the year, and then they could all go back to their studies in peace.

Harry strode directly into the out-of-order bathroom, the other three filing in behind him. Moaning Myrtle was splashing about in the toilets, making a mess of the place, but she fell still once she realized Dumbledore was present. The Headmaster ignored the ghost for the moment and turned to Harry.

"Well?" he asked. "Is there a hidden door somewhere?"

"It's hidden inside the plumbing," Harry explained, beckoning them over to the large, circular column of sinks at the center of the room. "Neville, come here and ask it to open for us."

A bewildered Neville stepped forward up to the sink, where Harry indicated. "Erm...what am I supposed to do, exactly?" he asked.

"Speak to the sink in Parseltongue," Harry urged him. "Pretend it's a snake."

Neville glanced back at Snape and Dumbledore; the former looked mildly perturbed, while the latter merely nodded his consent to continue. Neville cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the sink. "Open," he managed in a shaky voice.

"That was still English," said Harry.

"Sorry; it's hard to speak it unless there's actually a snake around!" Neville groaned.

"Try talking to the snake carving on the faucet," Harry supplied helpfully.

Neville squinted down at the sink, then frowned in confusion. "What snake carving?" he asked.

Harry bent down to examine the faucet. He was sure it was the correct one, but the spigot was shiny and clean – no snake in sight. Harry turned to the other faucets around it, examining each one closely...not a single one bore the mark of a snake. "Strange," Harry muttered.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance here," Dumbledore spoke up. "While I am not a natural Parselmouth myself, I have studied the language, and can perform a passable imitation. If the entrance is triggered by Parseltongue, it should work."

Harry and Neville stepped aside as Dumbledore approached the sink. The Headmaster cleared his throat, then made an intricate hissing sound with his tongue. Harry recognized it at once – it sounded uncanny, as though Dumbledore were in fact a native speaker himself. He waited with bated breath as all four of them stared at the sink in anticipation.

But nothing happened. There was no scraping of porcelain, no grand unveiling of a massive pipe entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Just a run-down old sink in a bathroom that hadn't been well-maintained in the past five decades.

Dumbledore finally turned his attention to Moaning Myrtle across the room, who was watching them with high interest. "Good evening, Miss Warren," he greeted her. "May I ask you a few questions?"

"Of course, Headmaster," Myrtle said reverently, looking quite honored.

"Have you noticed anyone coming in and out of this bathroom in the past twenty-four hours, besides Mr. Potter here?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh, no," Myrtle said gloomily. "I've been in here all day, moping because I wasn't invited to Sir Nicholas' Deathday Party. Nobody came to see me. Dahlia Potter and Ginny Weasley used to visit me sometimes, until a few weeks ago, when he rudely barged in on them." Myrtle pointed an accusing finger at Harry.

"So, to be clear, Ginny Weasley has not entered this bathroom today, or in the past few days for that matter?" Dumbledore clarified.

"Sadly, no," Myrtle moaned. "If you do see her, tell her I miss her, will you? She's a very kind girl, and easy to talk to."

Dumbledore again glanced at Snape, exchanging a significant look. Harry knew at once what it meant: Snape had indeed gone to Dumbledore with Harry's suspicions about Ginny. And now it appeared that, once again, Harry's theory was proving incorrect.

"Thank you for your time, Miss Warren," Dumbledore bowed to the ghost. "Severus, would you please escort Mr. Longbottom back to his common room?"

"Certainly, Headmaster," Snape bowed. And with a jerk of the head, he beckoned Neville to follow him from the bathroom, leaving Harry alone with Dumbledore – the last place Harry wanted to be in that moment.

"Sir, I'm sorry," Harry stammered at once. "I had another vision...this one was so vivid, I was sure it must be true—"

Dumbledore held up a hand to quiet him. "We will discuss this shortly, Mr. Potter," he said. "First, I must head to the Owlery and write to the Ministry to inform them of what has happened. I would like for you to head directly to my office and wait for me there."

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered.

"Good," Dumbledore nodded. "The password is lemon drops." And the Headmaster swept from the room, leaving Harry alone. Harry gave one more glance at Moaning Myrtle (who was eyeing him with high suspicion), as well as at the sink that had betrayed him. Then he exited the bathroom, ignoring the gaggle of students staring at him from down the corridor, gossiping loudly about him.

Harry's mind was once again flooded with disparate thoughts. Was the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets different in this timeline? Could it be moved at will, or was it fixed in a stationary spot? Had Ginny somehow hidden the diary from the professors, or pawned it off to somebody else? Did she even possess the diary at all?

But one thought dominated all the others, as Harry pushed through the crowds, doing his best to block out the gossip following him on his way to Dumbledore's office….

All that hard work rehabilitating my image for nothing!

A/N: I want to clarify quickly that, while I have been disheartened by the flood of intensely negative comments on recent chapters, I am still listening and responding to constructive feedback. While my Harry is heavily flawed and will remain so, I recognize now that it isn't much fun for you guys to read about him getting beaten into the dirt over and over again. So I'll be making more of an effort to give him more wins along the way, and I'll reiterate that we are still VERY early in the story with a lot of time for him to grow and improve! You should start to see a more competent Harry very soon – as early as next chapter, in fact. So if you've decided to stick around this far, just know that he won't be a pathetic loser forever – his turning point is coming!