Seventh Horcrux

Harry Potter vs. Gilderoy Lockhart

"Hermione, are you talking to ghosts?" I asked. "It's useless, you know. They're like paintings - not really sentient - so there's no point bothering with them."

"But you spent three hours arguing with a painting just last week," Ron very rudely interrupted.

I glared at him. "Yes, and, if it was capable of changing its mind, it would have that realized I was right. We learned a valuable lesson about the idiocy of paintings, and I think we've all grown since then."

Hermione giggled, sharing a traitorous grin with Ron. "Yes, well, I was just speaking with Sir Nicholas about ghosts and their very rich culture."

"I can hear another Hermione rant coming on," Ron groaned.

She ignored him, going on excitedly. "He's invited us to his two hundredth Death Day Party!"

"So we can go to a ghost party with rotted food but we can't go to the Halloween Feast?" Ron whined.

"Oh, hush, Ronald. You could have gone by yourself. Besides, Sir Nicholas' Death Day Party was a wonderful learning experience," Hermione chided.

He snorted. "Yeah, I learned that I never want to go again."

"...rip...tear...kill..."

I stopped in surprise. The Basilisk? If she was slithering around, it meant that someone else had been meddling in my Chamber of Secrets.

"...time to kill..."

"NO!" I hissed, "Bad snake! No killing."

Hermione glanced back. "Are you okay, Harry?"

"Oh, yes, I'm perfectly alright. Just, erm, clearing my throat. Probably shouldn't have tried the food at Nick's party..."

Shortly afterward, we stumbled upon a petrified cat and a bloody message telling everyone that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened.

This was exactly like what I did in my sixth year, down to the curl of my S's. This new "heir" was only a pale and pathetic imitation of my former glory.

Filch accused me of being the Heir of Slytherin (technically true), Dumbledore got me out of trouble through the power of favoritism, and Hermione began a new research project.

That night, I snuck into the girls' loo and changed the password needed to enter the Chamber of Secrets.

I leaned up against the cauldron, glancing about the abandoned loo. Myrtle had long since disappeared down the toilet in tears. Her death was accidental, just a case of poor timing. I might have felt bad about it if she'd had the dignity to just die.

"So, Hermione, you want to explain what we're doing here?"

She grinned, giving the potion a final stir and going into teacher mode. "This is Polyjuice Potion, or it will be in a month. It'll let us sneak into the Slytherin Common Room and ask Malfoy if he's the Heir of Slytherin."

I frowned. "Hermione, of course he's the Heir of Slytherin. Everyone's the Heir of Slytherin."

She wilted, confusion wrinkling her brow. "Come again?"

"Look, Slytherin lived a thousand years ago, right?"

"Nine-hundred and ninety-four."

"Right. A long time. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but the wizarding population is kind of tiny. Everyone is related to everyone, so everyone's related to Slytherin. In fact, the only people in the school who are not the Heirs of Slytherin are you and the other Muggleborns. Also, possibly Ron."