"So why did we agree to go to this thing again? All that food we're missing out on back there..." John said wistfully, looking back up towards the great hall.
"Harry made a promise to go, so he should! And it'd be selfish to let him go alone, imagine him being stuck there, the only non-ghost!", said Hermione sternly.
"Alright, mum", said John, smirking at her. Hermione scowled.
When they were outside the party itself, they certainly heard it long before they saw it. An unearthly, loud, screeching noise could be heard behind the door.
"Is that... music?", asked Ron.
"Great start", said John, stepping forward, opening the door, making a disgusted face and closing it immediately, waving his hand in front of his face.
"What?", asked Harry.
"The smell... Shit guys, it smells like something crawled in there and died", he said, looking slightly green already.
Ron snorted, but he wasn't amused when they entered the room. It smelled every bit as horrible as John said and worse. It was clearly coming from the food. The table at the centre had a fish which had clearly been dead for days and left to rot, cabbage that had gone mouldy, a cake that was covered in maggots (some of which were making their way towards the fish) and an assortment of food that was so far gone that no one could even identify what it once was.
"I expect they've let it rot so that it could pick up a stronger flavour", said Hermione through a pinched nose.
"Yeah but this smell will be stuck here for years", said a very green-looking John.
"At least it's in the dungeons - Slytherin's common room is down here somewhere", said Ron, smirking.
"I'm sure Dumbledore will have the smell washed out before long", said Hermione.
"We should ask him to leave it for a day or two at least. You know, in memory of Nick, nothing to do with Malfoy having to walk past it a few times a day of course!", said John, somehow with a straight face. Hermione, Ron and Harry laughed loudly enough to get the attention of Nick himself.
"Greetings my young friends, welcome, welcome!", he said in a sombre, yet somewhat grand manner.
It turned out the food was not the only thing unsuitable for living guests; the entertainment comprised of headless ghosts of the headless hunt juggling each others' severed heads, Nick's speech being interrupted and floating races. To Hermione's dismay, they bumped into a particularly morose ghost called Myrtle. Moaning Myrtle was her more commonly used name and with good reason.
"Let's get out of here, I think I might throw up if I get another whiff of that damn sea bass", said John, pointing at a very large, putrid fish in what seemed to be a state of advanced decay.
Simply stepping out from the deathday part was more than enough for the four youngsters. John in particular, began breathing as if he'd just gone freediving.
"Sensitive nose?", asked Hermione, smirking slightly. John nodded, still gasping the much cleaner air. Ron grinned and began to speak.
"Yeah, that smell was bad but it looked like it was going to-"
Kill.
"What?", asked Harry.
The other three looked at him in confusion.
"The voice! The one I heard in Lockhart's office, it's back!", said Harry urgently.
"Shh!", said Hermione, who now appeared to be listening as hard as she could.
Come to me... let me rip you. Let me tear you. So long... so hungry... kill. KILL!
"Can't hear anything", John muttered. Hermione and Ron both nodded.
"It's going to kill someone!", Harry whispered, starting to panic. He ran towards where he thought the voice was coming from, the other three following in his wake, one just as confused as the next.
They were met with a grisly scene. A cat, who upon closer inspection, they realised was Mrs. Norris, Filch's companion, was hung by the tail from an unlit torch. She was hanging just above a message, written in dark red letters on the wall. Harry had a nasty feeling it was written in blood.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
"That... we shouldn't be here", said Ron, looking and sounding uneasy.
"What? But shouldn't we try-", Harry started.
"Ron's right Harry, this is the last place we should be", said Hermione.
It was too late. Growing increasingly loud was the sound of hundreds of Hogwarts students walking and talking. They'd just left the Halloween feast. The crowd stopped on the corner of the corridor, a mere twenty feet away from the message and silence fell upon the scene in an instant.
"Enemies of the heir, beware? You'll be next, mudbloods!", came the all-too-familiar voice of Draco Malfoy.
"What's going on here? Go on, make way, make way... Potter! What have you-", Filch had started, preparing for an angry tirade directed at Harry, but he then caught sight of his cat, hanging from the torch. Harry's stomach lurched uncomfortably. There was only one conclusion that someone like Filch would come to here.
"You've. Murdered. My. Cat", he snarled, looking as if he was ready to commit a murder of his own.
As if the situation couldn't become any more dire, Filch was followed by Snape, McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick and Dumbledore.
"Argus, I-", said Dumbledore, seemingly freezing on the spot upon catching sight of the situation.
"Everyone will return to their dormitories immediately. Except you four", said Dumbledore. Once the sound of the footsteps had faded away and (unfortunately), Lockhart joined them, Dumbledore turned back to Harry.
"Such a shame. It looks like the transmogrifian torture killed. Such a shame, I know exactly how I could have saved-"
"She is not dead, Argus", said Dumbledore, acting as if Lockhart hadn't even arrived. "She has indeed, been petrified"
"Just as I thought!", said Lockhart. Shape looked ready to throttle him.
"We will be able to cure her. Madame Pomfrey will be able to administer a mandrake draught and Professor Sprout will be able to guide our Mandrakes to maturity", Dumbledore added calmly.
"I'll make the draft! I must've whipped up a dozen Mandrake restoratives-", Lockhart started.
"I believe I am the potions master of this school", Shape interjected sharply.
The awkward silence that ensued was broken by Filch.
"My cat... has been petrified! I want to see some punishment! It was him!", Filth shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at Harry.
"That's insane, how the hell would Harry-", John started.
"Well the circumstances are suspicious Potter. None of you were at dinner. You were the first on the scene as well. May I ask why you were not at the feast?", asked Snape.
"Did you take a register for the feast? Why would you even-", John started, but Hermione, standing behind him, elbowed him in the back.
"We were at Nick's Deathday party, there were loads of ghosts there, ask them!", said Harry.
"And you headed off to bed without supper?", asked Shape, unable to contain a particularly nasty smile. "Ghosts do not serve food fit for mortals as far as I am aware"
"We just weren't hungry", said Ron. His face and tone told a convincing lie. His stomach, however, betrayed him with a particularly loud grumble.
"If I may, headmaster, I would suggest that Potter should be taken off the Quidditch team until he is ready to be truthful", Shape said, still doing a poor job of hiding his vindictive pleasure.
"Don't be ridiculous Severus. Potter would not be capable of causing a petrification of this strength. He was in the wrong place, at the wrong time", McGonagall said.
"None if you saw anything out of place prior to discovering Mrs. Norris?", asked Dumbledore.
All four youngsters shook their head simultaneously.
"Very well. Off to bed", he said.
"Should I... Should I have told Dumbledore about that voice?", asked Harry.
"Fuck no, are you insane?", asked John.
"John, don't swear!", Hermione said, almost reflexively.
"He's right though Harry. Doesn't matter where you are, hearing random voices is not a good sign. I mean how would that sound to Dumbledore? Sir, I heard some really sinister voice, a voice only I could hear, followed it because it said it wanted to kill someone and found a message written in blood and a cat dangling by its tail?", Ron explained.
Harry had to admit, Ron had a point. whoever the voice belonged to was responsible for the attack on the cat. Why only he, Harry could hear it though... that could be incriminating.
"I want to know about the message. it mentioned the Chamber of Secrets, and I'm sure I read about it in Hogwarts: A History, but I left my copy at home!", said Hermione frustratedly.
"You left a book at home?", John asked, teasingly.
"You try fitting a nine hundred page book in your trunk with the Standard book of spells, 1,000 Magical Herbs and Fungi, A History of Magic, Magical Drafts and Potions, Seven Lockhart Books, Uniforms, Potions ingredients, parchment-", Hermione started.
"Shit, you can just rattle off our entire school list like that?", John asked, looking impressed.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"I'll check the library in the morning", she said, yawning and heading up to her dormitory.
"Right. goodnight then", said Ron, stretching and walking up to the boys' dorm room.
Ron and John, and indeed the others in their room, slept much more easily than Harry that night.
The following day, Hermione angrily told them that all of the copies of Hogwarts: A History had been checked out. The school at large was clearly trying to find the legend of the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione however, circumvented it by convincing Professor Binns to retell the legend. It made John in particular, surprisingly pensive after the History of Magic lesson.
"You'd have said something by now, what're you thinking?", Ron asked, elbowing John as they sat together in the library.
"It's just... this is the sort of stuff that they warn you about in muggle schools. Not secret chambers hidden in schools, but the whole 'you were born this way, so I hate you' thing", said John.
Hermione nodded as he spoke.
"I suppose it shouldn't be surprising that it takes place in the wizarding world too. But there's more important things we need to think about. Who is the heir of Slytherin?", she asked.
"Let's think! Who do we know that thinks all muggleborns are scum?", asked Ron sardonically.
"Oh you can't be talking about-", Hermione started.
"Of course I'm talking about him! You've only got to look at his foul rat-face to know it's him!", said Ron.
"Draco or Elena? I know they'd both technically be the heir, but which of the two would try something like this?", asked John.
"Both probably. Both were raised by Lucius Malfoy after all", said Harry.
"But Malfoy, either of them, the heir of Slytherin?", Hermione asked sceptically.
"The whole Malfoy family's been in Slytherin for centuries. Draco told me that once. Wouldn't be surprised if Elena was just as proud of that", said Harry.
"Has Elena Malfoy ever said anything like that as well? Has she ever acted like she looks down on muggleborns?", asked John, clearly thinking hard.
"She kind of acts like she looks down on everyone. She barely says a word to anyone besides Daphne Greengrass, but all the Slytherins want her attention, just like her rat-faced brother", said Ron.
"Lucius Malfoy is a powerful man and he would raise his children to think of themselves as better than the rest of us, that's true. You know... I think there might be a way to find out if it really is the Malfoy family", said Hermione.
"Go on", said Ron, eagerly.
"There's a potion, Snape mentioned it in class a few days ago. Polyjuice potion, it's meant to be called. The idea would be that you drink it and take on the appearance of someone else", said Hermione.
"Where'd we get the recipe?", asked Harry.
"There's a book, called Moste Potente Potions, but it's in the restricted section. We'd need a signed note", said Hermione.
"Can't see why any teacher would sign off on us reading something like that", said John.
"If we made it out as if we were only interested in the theory though...", Hermione mused.
"No teacher'd fall for that! They'd have to be... really thick!, said Ron.
John snorted.
"I wonder where we'll find a really thick teacher", he said dryly. Harry and Ron looked confused for a moment, then burst out laughing. Hermione looked scandalised.
Harry wouldn't have willingly played along in Lockhart's flamboyant retellings of his adventures under normal circumstances, but as they needed to stay on his good side, he dutifully played his part as a struggling werewolf that Lockhart had somehow pinned to a wall with one hand.
Somehow, Harry managed to restrain himself from glaring at John, who was having a very hard time hiding his laughter. Ron had managed to hide his own mirth by pretending to look under his desk for a dropped quill.
"And another village will remember me forever", he concluded. "Your homework will be to compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf"
Hermione, Ron and John made a show of taking very long to pack away their books and quills, before joining Harry, waiting at Lockhart's desk.
"P-professor, I was wondering if you'd sign for us to have a look at this book from the restricted section. I think it'd help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venoms a lot better", said Hermione, stuttering at first and speeding up her speech as she spoke.
"Ah, Gadding with Ghouls...", Lockhart sighed, looking past Hermione with apparent nostalgia as he took her note. "Arguably my favourite book. Did you like it?"
"Oh yes!", said Hermione as Lockhart signed her note without taking so much as a single glance in its direction. "So clever, the way you trapped the last one with a tea-strainer!"
"In any case I'm sure none of the others will mind me giving the best student in the year a helping hand! The more you know about these venoms, the better!", said Lockhart. "Yes, very nice, isn't it?", he asked Ron, who was staring in horror at Lockhart's quill. It was roughly the size of his forearm. Lockhart had mistaken Ron's disgusted look for a look of awe and admiration. "I usually save it for large public book-signings".
"He didn't even look at it!", said John, laughing as they headed back to the library.
"Because he's a brainless git, but who cares? We got what we needed", said Ron, smirking.
"He's not a brainless git!", Hermione shot back, glaring at her three grinning friends.
"Just because he said you're the best student in the year", said Ron, rolling his eyes.
"Pretty sure most teachers would say that", said Harry.
"Most students too. In fact pretty much anyone with more than half a brain", said John.
"I hate it when you idiots gang up on me", said Hermione, huffily.
"Oh you'd get bored without us, admit it!", said John, nudging her with his elbow.
Hermione answered with a characteristic roll of her eyes.
The potion however, was particularly difficult to make, as they found out when Hermione read out the ingredient list.
"Where are we going to get... we'll have to work that out later I guess", said John.
"And we'll also need a bit of whoever we're changing into", Hermione finished.
"A bit of-", Ron choked out, sounding outraged. "I'm not drinking anything with Crabbe's toenails in it!"
"And imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck looking like those Slytherins forever...", said Harry.
"Fine!", said Hermione, snapping the book shut. "If you lot are going to chicken out, then I'll hand the book in! But If you ask me, trying to stop the heir of Slytherin is a bit more important than that nonsense!"
"We've had a bad influence on you... you're actually convincing us to break rules! We'll do it, but no toenails... deal?", asked Ron. Hermione looked satisfied.
"So most of that is in the student cupboards, but there's about five ingredients that there's no way we'd have access to", John reminded them.
"I'm sure they'd be in Snape's private stores, but... how do we get in there?", asked Hermione.
"Cloak?" asked Ron immediately.
"No, we'd probably have to get past Snape's quarters to actually reach it. Wouldn't want to risk Snape even knowing we have the cloak", said John.
"In a lesson then? Great, that sounds easy", said Harry, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"It could be done", said Hermione.
"How?", asked John.
"Well, if you create a loud distraction, without Snape knowing it was you, I could sneak in and get the ingredients. It should be me as well; if you were caught in Snape's cupboard, you'd be expelled, but I have a clean record", said Hermione.
"OK... what distraction then?", Harry asked.
"I don't know, just cause some mayhem that'd need Snape's attention", said Hermione.
Harry gave a weak smile; deliberately causing mayhem in Snape's class felt about as save as diving out of an open window at the top of Gryffindor tower.
"Snape'll probably blame us without evidence too... maybe we can get the loser fired along the way", said John, rubbing his hands together, an evil grin spreading across his face.
Even Hermione didn't object to that being a potential perk of this plan of theirs.
It didn't play out in such a way of course. The plan did work; Hermione managed to steal ingredients due to Harry, John and Ron blowing up Goyle's cauldron with one of Fred and George's fireworks. Snape however, had his suspicions.
"He knew it was me", said Harry. "He wasn't just blaming me, he actually knew", said an ashen-faced Harry after the lesson.
"He can't prove it though", said Ron, clapping Harry on the back.
"Something tells me he'll try and get something else pinned on me", said Harry, looking down at his feet as he walked.
"Oh lighten up Harry, you'll be fine! Besides, did you see the look on Malfoy's face when that swelling solution hit his nose?", asked John, chortling as he spoke.
Harry did grin at that. The sight of Malfoy's nose swelling to the size of a large tomato and his head sagging with the weight wasn't one he'd forget in a hurry. Even Elena Malfoy seemed to find it at least slightly amusing.
"We've got what we were looking for anyway. Guess we've just got to wait for the thing to stew or something, right?", asked Ron, looking to Hermione.
"Well there are a lot of difficult steps", Hermione started, sounding unsure of herself.
"Yeah, but your brain is the size of a car, so you'll have those done in a couple of minutes", said John uncaringly.
Hermione smiled weakly. Even if John was right, they had to pray that no one was attacked in the month it'd take to brew the potion. And if someone was, they had to hope that petrification was the least of the victim's worries.