A/N: Chapter revised as of November 4, 2024.

"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 that 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. "Vera verto," he intoned, pointing his wand at the raven, which cawed in protest shortly before morphing into a gleaming silver goblet.

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.

"Go on, get out of here!" Harry groaned, shooing the cat off down the hall. He would need to have a word with Dahlia about keeping a closer eye on her pet. 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 pounded on the door to the bathroom. "DAHLIA!" he shouted. "Are you alright?"

The hushed voices inside the bathroom ceased, and a moment later, the door opened, revealing a perplexed Dahlia. "Harry?" she asked, bewildered.

"What're you two doing here?" he demanded.

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

"I was...checking to make sure you're safe," Harry stammered. "Is anyone else…?" He tried to crane his neck to look into the bathroom, but Dahlia blocked his view.

"We're fine, creep," she huffed. "Are we not allowed to talk in private without you spying?"

"I was not spying!" Harry denied. "You shouldn't be in here anyway...this bathroom's out of order."

"I know; that means we have privacy!" Dahlia shouted. "What's it to you, anyway?"

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?"

"Let go of me," Dahlia muttered, struggling to wrench free of Harry's grasp.

"Not until you promise 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 hallway behind him.

"I confess I didn't think you could stoop any lower, Mr. Potter," Snape said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Intimidating young girls in 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.

"Sorry," Harry sighed to his sister, who merely folded her arms and shook her head at him. Harry reluctantly followed the professor down the hall.

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.

"Look, I know what it looks like," Harry sighed. "But I was just looking out for my sister, alright? I have good reason for doing what I do."

"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 has informed me of these visions of yours," Snape muttered. "And that he instructed you to go straight to him with any concerns. 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."

Snape looked at him with bewilderment. "You cannot possibly know all of this for certain," he said. "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."

A frustrated Harry left the office, stewing over what had transpired. He knew Snape was right, of course – he should have gone straight to Dumbledore with his concerns about the diary from the beginning. But his trust in the man was at an all-time low, and he thought he could fix the issue with the diary without involving him at all.

Then again, what if he was mistaken? What if the diary hadn't entered the school at all, and all of this was a moot point? He was wrong about Quirrell, after all – maybe Lucius Malfoy never slipped that diary into Ginny's cauldron that day. Maybe Harry was in for a quiet, peaceful year at Hogwarts for once in his life (or lives, rather). He resolved to put his head down and let the adults handle things for once – it was about time they stepped up and took some ownership, after all.

Harry dove head-first into Quidditch training, determined to prove his worth to the team if the opportunity to prove himself arose. He 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 completing 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 – 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."

"Is it not possible that she hid it somewhere McGonagall couldn't find?" Harry 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. And for all he knew, things would play out differently this year as well. Maybe the Chamber wouldn't be opened at all – maybe Harry was mistaken about Ginny receiving the diary at all.

Dumbledore knew about his suspicions, and he'd taken action already to prevent something bad from happening. Maybe, for once, Harry had to just accept that and relieve himself of the burden of fixing everything himself.

So he awoke on Halloween determined to keep his nose clean for once. He consulted the Marauder's Map multiple times that day, checking on Ginny's whereabouts. So far everything seemed normal; when she wasn't in classes, she was 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.

When the final class of the day released, Harry joined his classmates in the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast. Spirits were high – literally and figuratively, as students chatted excitedly while ghosts flitted about overhead, playfully spooking younger students to keep with the atmosphere.

Halloween had always been a rather dour holiday for Harry – the anniversary of his parents' death and the day that always seemed to go wrong in one way or another. But he forced himself to relax and enjoy his classmates' company, eating and drinking to their hearts' content. He glanced over at the Gryffindor table multiple times, but he saw Ginny sitting there with her older brothers, laughing and looking totally care-free.

Looks like I was wrong after all, Harry thought with relief. There is no diary. We're in for a normal year at Hogwarts after all. And he finally relaxed, able to enjoy the company of his peers and have a normal evening like a normal twelve-year-old.

Once they'd eaten and drank their fill, the students stood to head back up to their common rooms. Harry walked with a group of Ravenclaws, laughing and joking about nothing in particular. But as they entered Central Hall, there was suddenly a pile-up, and Harry noticed that the festive atmosphere had become more muted and reserved.

"What's the hold-up?" Michael Corner wondered aloud.

Harry pushed up towards the front of the murmuring crowd to see what was going on. He inched around a group of sixth-years to get a better view of the middle of the Hall, 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," an older girl muttered under her breath. Harry noticed that most of the students were not looking at the cat. They 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."

"Everyone stay back," a voice instructed the crowd, as Snape pushed through to the center of the space. "Make room for the Headmaster." He made eye contact with Harry, arching an eyebrow in surprise, but Harry could only shrug.

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?!" Ginny pulled her close to comfort her; Harry wanted to do the same, but he could see the other Weasleys lurking nearby and did not want to cause a scene.

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."

So much for staying out of it, Harry thought bitterly. Time to put my foot down and fix this.

"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 several 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?" 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."

"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, seeking an explanation for leading them on an inadvertent wild goose chase. "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. The Chamber of Secrets had indeed been opened, and yet he could do nothing to stop him. Was the entrance 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 during the search of her belongings? Did she even possess the diary at all?

Harry could not make heads or tails of this situation in his mind. One thing was becoming abundantly clear: he could not solve this one on his own. He pushed through the crowds, doing his best to block out the gossip following him on his way to Dumbledore's office.

A/N: You've likely noticed by now that my Harry is heavily flawed and makes plenty of mistakes. I've done some rewrites to soften the blow a bit, but this will continue to be the case for a while. That said, 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 taking L's forever – his turning point is coming!