"What's going on here? What's going on?"
Attracted no doubt by Malfoy's shout, Argus Filch comes shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he sees Mrs. Norris and falls back, clutching his face in horror.
"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieks.
His popping eyes fall on Harry.
"You!" he screeches. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll -"
"Argus!"
Dumbledore has arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he sweeps past Harry, Ron, and Hermione and detaches Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.
"Come with me, Argus," he says to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."
Lockhart steps forward eagerly.
"My office is nearest, Headmaster - just upstairs - please feel free -"
"Thank you, Gilderoy," says Dumbledore.
The silent crowd parts to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurries after Dumbledore; so does Professors McGonagall and Snape.
As they encounter Lockhart's darkened office there is a flurry of movement across the walls; Harry sees several of the Lockharts in the moving pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lights the candles on his desk and stands back. Dumbledore lays Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and begins to examine her. Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchange tense looks and sink into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching.
The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose is barely an inch away from Mrs. Norris's fur. He is looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall is bent almost as close, her eyes narrow. Snape looms behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: It's as though he is trying hard not to smile. And Lockhart is hovering around all of them, making suggestions.
"It was definitely a curse that killed her - probably the Transmogrifian Torture - I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her...."
Lockhart's comments are punctuated by Filch's dry, racking sobs. He is slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs. Norris, his face in his hands. As much as he detests Filch, Harry can't help feeling a bit sorry for him, though not nearly as sorry as he feels for himself. If Dumbledore believes Filch, he will be expelled for sure.
Dumbledore is now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand but nothing happens: She continues to look as though she has been recently stuffed.
"...I remember something very similar happening in Uagadou," says Lockhart, "a series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once...."
The photographs of Lockhart on the walls are all nodding in agreement as he talks. One of them has forgotten to remove his hair net.
At last Dumbledore straightens up.
"She's not dead, Argus," he says softly.
Lockhart stops abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he has prevented.
"Not dead?" chokes Filch, looking hesitantly through his fingers at Mrs. Norris. "But why's she all - all stiff and frozen?"
"She has been Petrified," says Dumbledore ("Ah! I thought so!" says Lockhart). "But how, I cannot say...."
"Ask him!" shrieks Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Harry.
"No second year could have done this," says Dumbledore firmly. "It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced -"
"He did it, he did it!" Filch spits, his pouchy face purpling. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! - in my office - he knows I'm a - I'm a -" Filch's face works horribly. "He knows I'm a Squib!" he finishes.
"I never touched Mrs. Norris!" Harry says loudly, uncomfortably aware of everyone looking at him, including all the Lockharts on the walls. "And I don't even know what a Squib is."
"Rubbish!" snarls Filch. "He saw my Kwikspell letter!"
"If I might speak, Headmaster," says Snape from the shadows, and Harry's sense of foreboding increased; he is sure nothing Snape has to say is going to do him any good.
"Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time," he says, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubts it. "But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione launch into an explanation about the deathday party. "...there were hundreds of ghosts, they'll tell you we were there -"
"But why not join the feast afterward?" says Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. "Why go up that corridor?"
Ron and Hermione look at Harry.
"Because - because -" Harry says, his heart thumping very fast; something tells him it will sound very far-fetched if he tells them he was led there by a bodiless voice no one but he and Polaris can hear, "because we were tired and wanted to go to bed," he says.
"Without any supper?" says Snape, a triumphant smile flickering across his gaunt face. "I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties."
"We weren't hungry," says Ron loudly as his stomach gives a huge rumble.
Snape's nasty smile widens.
"I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," he says. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest."
"Really, Severus," says Professor McGonagall sharply, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. The cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong."
Dumbledore is giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze makes Harry feel as though he is being X-rayed.
"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he says firmly.
Snape looks furious. So does Filch.
"My cat has been Petrified!" he shrieks, his eyes popping. "I want to see some punishment!"
"We will be able to cure her, Argus," says Dumbledore patiently. "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."
"I'll make it," Lockhart butts in. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep -"
"Excuse me," says Snape icily. "But I believe I am the Potions master at this school."
There is a very awkward pause.
"You may go," Dumbledore says to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He then turns to Snape "Severus, please bring Mr. Lestrange to me." He says. Snape nods and walks out of the office, Harry, Ron, and Hermione behind him.
They go as quickly as they can without actually running. When they are a floor above from Lockhart's office, they turn into an empty classroom and close the door quietly behind them. Harry squints at his friends' darkened faces.
"D'you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?"
"No," says Ron, without hesitation. "Hearing voices almost nobody else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world."
Something in Ron's voice makes Harry ask, "You do believe me, don't you?"
"'Course I do," says Ron quickly. "But - you must admit it's weird...."
"I know it's weird," says Harry. "The whole thing's weird. What was that writing on the wall about? 'The Chamber Has Been Opened'.... What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know, it rings a sort of bell," says Ron slowly. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once...might've been Bill...."
"And what on earth's a Squib?" says Harry.
To his surprise, Ron stifles a snigger.
"Well - it's not funny really - but since it's Filch," he says. "A Squib is someone who was born into a wizarding family but hasn't got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of Muggle-born wizards, but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch's trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much." Ron gives a satisfied smile. "He's bitter."
A clock chimes somewhere.
"Midnight," says Harry. "We'd better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else."
Meanwhile
Polaris walks into Lockhart's office with Snape behind him "You wanted to see me, professor?" He asks Dumbledore. "Yes I did, Mr. Lestrange. I need to ask you a few questions." Dumbledore replies, looking into Polaris's purple eyes. Polaris nods and sits down in a nearby chair. "Did you open the chamber of secrets?" Dumbledore asks. Polaris furrows his brows. "No sir, I haven't." Polaris responds in a confused tone. Polaris then feels a tugging in the back of his head. He immediately empties his mind. Dumbledore looks surprised.
"Can you not look through my mind? It's giving me a headache." Says Polaris, rubbing his forehead. Dumbledore ignores this and continues questioning Polaris "Where were you during the feast?" Dumbledore asks. "In the thestral enclosure, I was reading in there." Dumbledore nods and tries to look through Polaris's mind again. He is instantly blocked by Polaris.
"Please stop, I don't like my privacy being invaded." Says Polaris, looking at Dumbledore with an annoyed expression. "Last question, did you know Mr. Filch is a squib?" Asks Dumbledore, in a serious tone. "Not until now, but it does explain a lot." Polaris responds, glancing at Filch.
"That is all, you can go now."
Time skip
For a few days, the school can talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch keeps it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where she was attacked, as though he thinks the attacker might come back. Harry has seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no effect; the words still gleam as brightly as ever on the stone. When Filch isn't guarding the scene of the crime, he is skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like "breathing loudly" and "looking happy."
Ginny Weasley seems very disturbed by Mrs. Norris's fate. According to Ron, she is a great cat lover.
"But you haven't really got to know Mrs. Norris," Ron tells her bracingly. "Honestly, we're much better off without her." Ginny's lip trembles. "Stuff like this doesn't often happen at Hogwarts," Ron assures her. "They'll catch the maniac who did it and have him out of here in no time. I just hope he's got time to Petrify Filch before he's expelled. I'm only joking -" Ron adds hastily as Ginny blanches.
The attack also has an effect on Hermione. It is quite usual for Hermione to spend a lot of time reading, but she is now doing almost nothing else. Nor can Harry and Ron get much response from her when they ask what she is up to, and not until the following Wednesday do they find out.
Harry has been held back in Potions, where Snape has made him stay behind to scrape tubeworms off the desks. After a hurried lunch, he goes upstairs to meet Ron in the library, and sees Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Hufflepuff boy from Herbology, coming toward him. Harry opens his mouth to say hello but Justin catches sight of him, turns abruptly, and speeds off in the opposite direction.
Harry finds Ron at the back of the library, measuring their History of Magic homework. Professor Binns has asked for a three-foot-long composition on "The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards."
"I don't believe it, I'm still eight inches short...." says Ron furiously, letting go of his parchment, which springs back into a roll.
"And Hermione's done four feet seven inches and her writing's tiny," Ron continues, measuring the large writing on his parchment to be four inches short.
"Where is she?" asks Harry, grabbing the tape measure and unrolling his own homework.
"Somewhere over there," says Ron, pointing along the shelves. "Looking for another book. I think she's trying to read the whole library before Christmas."
Harry tells Ron about Justin Finch-Fletchley running away from him.
"Dunno why you care. I thought he was a bit of an idiot," says Ron, scribbling away, making his writing as large as possible. "All that junk about Lockhart being so great -"
Hermione emerges from between the bookshelves. She looks irritable and at last seems ready to talk to them.
"All the copies of Hogwarts, A History have been taken out," she says, sitting down next to Harry across from Ron. "And there's a two week waiting list. I wish I hadn't left my copy at home, but I couldn't fit it in my trunk with all the Lockhart books."
"Why do you want it?" says Harry.
"The same reason everyone else wants it," says Hermione, "to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets."
"What's that?" says Harry quickly.
"That's just it. I can't remember," says Hermione, biting her lip. :And I can't find the story anywhere else -"
"Hermione, let me read your composition," says Ron desperately, checking his watch.
"No, I won't," says Hermione, suddenly severe. "You've had ten days to finish it -"
"I only need another two inches, come on -"
The bell rings. Ron and Hermione lead the way to History of Magic, bickering.
History of Magic is the dullest subject on their schedule. Professor Binns, who teaches it, is their only ghost teacher, and the most exciting thing that ever happens in his classes is him entering the room through the blackboard. Ancient and shriveled, many people say he didn't notice he was dead. He simply got up to teach one day and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staffroom fire; his routine has not varied in the slightest since.
Today is as boring as ever. Professor Binns opens his notes and begins to read in a flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class are in a deep stupor, occasionally coming to long enough to copy down a name or date, then falling asleep again. He has been speaking for half an hour when something happens that has never happened before. Hermione puts up her hand.
Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looks amazed.
"Miss - er -?"
"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," says Hermione in a clear voice.
Dean Thomas, who has been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerks out of his trance; Lavender Brown's head comes up off her arms and Neville Longbottom's elbow slips off his desk.
Professor Binns blinks.
"My subject is History of Magic," he says in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends." He clears his throat with a small noise like chalk snapping and continued, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers -"
He stutters to a halt. Hermione's hand is waving in the air again.
"Miss Grant?"
"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"
Professor Binns is looking at her in such amazement, Harry is sure no student has ever interrupted him before, alive or dead.
"Well," says Professor Binns slowly, "yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peers at Hermione as though he has never seen a student properly before. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale -"
But the whole class is now hanging on Professor Binns's every word. He looks dimly at them all, every face turned to his. Harry could tell he is completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.
"Oh, very well," he says slowly. "Let me see...the Chamber of Secrets...
"You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago - the precise date is uncertain - by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."
He pauses, gazes blearily around the room, and continues.
"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."
Professor Binns pauses again, pursing his lips, looking like a wrinkled old tortoise.
"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he says. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing.
"Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."
There is a silence as he finishes telling the story, but it isn't the usual, sleepy silence that fills Professor Binns's classes. There is unease in the air as everyone continues to watch him, hoping for more. Professor Binns looks faintly annoyed.
"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he says. "Naturally, the whole school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible."
Hermione's hand is back in the air.
"Sir - what exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?"
"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," says Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.
The class exchange nervous looks.
"I tell you, the thing does not exist," says Professor Binns, shuffling his notes. "There is no Chamber and no monster."
"But, sir," says Seamus Finnigan, "if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?"
"Nonsense, O'Flaherty," says Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. "If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found the thing -"
"But, Professor," pipes up Parvati Patil, "you'd probably have to use Dark Magic to open it -"
"Just because a wizard doesn't use Dark Magic doesn't mean he can't, Miss Pennyfeather," snaps Professor Binns. "I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore -"
"But maybe you've got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn't -" begins Dean Thomas, but Professor Binns has had enough.
"That will do," he says sharply. "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to history, to solid, believable, verifiable fact!"
And within five minutes, the class has sunk back into its usual torpor.
"I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony," Ron tells Harry and Hermione as they fight their way through the teeming corridors at the end of the lesson to drop off their bags before dinner. "But I never knew that he started all this pure-blood stuff. I wouldn't be in his House if you paid me. Honestly, if the Sorting Hat had tried to put me in Slytherin, I'd've got the train straight back home...."
Harry doesn't say anything. His stomach drops unpleasantly.
Harry hasn't told Ron and Hermione that the Sorting Hat seriously considered putting him in Slytherin. He can remember, as if it were yesterday, the small voice that spoke in his ear when he'd placed the hat on his head a year before: You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin would help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that....
But Harry, who had already heard of Slytherin House's reputation for turning out Dark wizards, had thought desperately, Not Slytherin! the hat said, Oh, well, if you're sure...better be Gryffindor....
As they squeeze in the crowd, Colin Creevey passes them.
"Hiya, Harry!"
"Hullo, Colin," says Harry automatically.
"Harry - Harry - a boy in my class has been saying you're -"
But Colin is so small he can't fight against the tide of people bearing him toward the Great Hall; they hear him squeak, "See you, Harry!" and he is gone.
"What's a boy in his class saying about you?" Hermione wonders.
"That I'm Slytherin's heir, I expect," says Harry, his stomach dropping another inch or so as he suddenly remembers the way Justin Finch-Fletchley ran away from him at lunchtime.
"People here'll believe anything," says Ron in disgust.
The crowd thins and they are able to climb the next staircase without difficulty.
"D'you really think there's a Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asks.
"I don't know," Hermione says, frowning. "Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs. Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be - well - human."
As she speaks, they turn a corner and find themselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack happened. They stop and look around. The scene is just as it had been that night, except that there is no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stands against the wall bearing the message "The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened."
"That's where Filch has been keeping guard," Ron mutters.
They look at each other. The corridor is deserted.
"Can't hurt to have a poke around," says Harry, dropping his bag and getting to his hands and knees so that he can crawl along, searching for clues.
"Scorch marks!" he says. "Here - and here -"
"Come and look at this!" says Hermione. "This is funny...."
Harry gets up and crosses to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione is pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders are scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack. A long, silvery thread is dangling like a rope, as though they have all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.
"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" says Hermione wonderingly.
"No," says Harry, "have you, Ron? Ron?"
He looks over his shoulder. Ron is standing well back and seems to be fighting the impulse to run.
"What's up?" says Harry.
"I - don't - like - spiders," says Ron tensely.
"I never knew that," says Hermione, looking at Ron in surprise. "You've used spiders in Potions loads of times...."
"I don't mind them dead," says Ron, who is carefully looking anywhere but at the window. "I just don't like the way they move...."
Hermione giggles.
"It's not funny," says Ron, fiercely. "If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my - my teddy bear into a great big filthy spider because I broke his toy broomstick.... You wouldn't like them either if you'd been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and..."
He breaks off, shuddering. Hermione is obviously still trying not to laugh. Feeling they better get off the subject, Harry says, "Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone's mopped it up."
"It was about here," says Ron, recovering himself to walk a few paces past Filch's chair and pointing. "Level with this door."
He reaches for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdraws his hand as though he's been burned.
"What's the matter?" says Harry.
"Can't go in there," says Ron gruffly. "That's a girls' toilet."
"Oh, Ron, there won't be anyone in there," says Hermione, standing up and coming over. "That's Moaning Myrtle's place. Come on, let's have a look."
And ignoring the large OUT OF ORDER sign, she opens the door.
It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom Harry has ever set foot in. Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror are a row of chipped sinks. The floor is damp and reflects the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the stalls are flaking and scratched and one of them is dangling off its hinges.
Hermione puts her fingers to her lips and sets off towards the end stall. When she reaches it she says, "Hello, Myrtle, how are you?"
Harry and Ron go to look. Moaning Myrtle is floating above the tank of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin.
"This is a girls' bathroom," she says, eyeing Ron and Harry suspiciously. "They're not girls."
"No," Hermione agrees, stepping forward. "I just wanted to show them how - er - nice it is in here."
She waves vaguely at the dirty old mirror and the damp floor.
"Ask her if she saw anything," Harry mouths at Hermione.
"What are you whispering?" says Myrtle, staring at him.
"Nothing," says Harry quickly. "We wanted to ask -"
"I wish people would stop talking behind my back!" says Myrtle, in a voice choked with tears. "I do have feelings, you know, even if I am dead -"
"Myrtle, no one wants to upset you," says Hermione. "Harry only -"
"No one wants to upset me! That's a good one!" howls Myrtle. "My life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along ruining my death!"
"We wanted to ask you if you've seen anything funny lately," says Hermione quickly. "Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door on Halloween."
"Did you see anyone near here that night?" says Harry.
"I wasn't paying attention," says Myrtle dramatically. "Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I'm - that I'm -"
"Already dead," says Ron 'helpfully'.
Myrtle gives a tragic sob, rises up in the air, turns over, and dives headfirst into the toilet, splashing water all over them and vanishing from sight, although from the direction of her muffled sobs, she has come to rest somewhere in the U-bend.
Harry and Ron stand with their mouths open, but Hermione shrugs wearily and says, "Honestly, that was almost cheerful for Myrtle.... Come on, let's go."
Harry barely closes the door on Myrtle's gurgling sobs when a loud voice makes all three of them jump.
"RON!"
Percy has stopped dead at the head of the stairs, prefect badge agleam, an expression of complete shock on his face.
"That's a girls'bathroom!" he gasps. "What were you -?"
"Just having a look around," Ron shrugs. "Clues, you know -"
Percy swells in a manner that reminds Harry forcefully of Mrs. Weasley.
"Get - away - from - there -" Percy says, striding towards them and starting to bustle them along, flapping his arms. "Don't you care what this looks like? Coming back here while everyone's at dinner -"
"Why shouldn't we be here?" says Ron hotly, stopping short and glaring at Percy. "Listen, we never laid a finger on that cat!"
"That's what I told Ginny," says Percy fiercely, "but she still seems to think you're going to be expelled, I've never seen her so upset, crying her eyes out, you might think of her, all the first years are thoroughly overexcited by this business -"
"You don't care about Ginny," says Ron, whose ears are now reddening. "You're just worried I'm going to mess up your chances of being Head Boy -"
"Five points from Gryffindor!" Percy says tersely, fingering his prefect badge. "And I hope it teaches you a lesson! No more detective work, or I'll write to Mum!"
And he strides off, the back of his neck as red as Ron's ears.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione choose seats as far as possible from Percy in the common room that night. Ron is still in a very bad temper and keeps blotting his Charms homework. When he reaches absently for his wand to remove the smudges, it ignites the parchment. Fuming almost as much as his homework, Ron slams The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 shut. To Harry's surprise, Hermione follows suit.
"Who can it be, though?" Hermione says in a quiet voice, as though continuing a conversation they had just been having.
"Who'd want to frighten all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?" says Hermione thoughtfully.
"Let's think," says Ron in mock puzzlement. "Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum?"
He looked at Hermione and Harry. Harry looks back, unconvinced.
"If you're talking about Malfoy -"
"Of course I am!" says Ron. "You heard him - 'You'll be next, Mudbloods!' - come on, you've only got to look at his foul rat face to know it's him -"
"Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?" says Hermione skeptically.
"Look at his family," says Harry, closing his books, too. "The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin; he's always boasting about it. They could easily be Slytherin's descendants. His father's definitely evil enough."
"They could've had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries!" says Ron. "Handing it down, father to son...."
"Well," says Hermione cautiously, "I suppose it's possible.... But that would also mean that Polaris could also be the heir of Slytherin"
"That's a good point, I didn't think about that. Maybe that's why Dumbledore wanted to talk to Polaris, he might've wanted to interrogate him." Says Harry
"If Malfoy or Polaris is in fact, the heir, how do we prove it?"
"There might be a way," says Hermione slowly, dropping her voice still further with a quick glance across the room at Percy. "Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We'd be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect -"
"If, in a month or so, you feel like explaining, you will let us know, won't you?" says Ron irritably.
"All right," says Hermione coldly. "What we'd need to do is to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask both of them a few questions without him realizing it's us."
"But that's impossible," Harry says as Ron laughs.
"No, it's not," says Hermione. "All we'd need would be some Polyjuice Potion."
"What's that?" says Ron and Harry together.
"Snape mentioned it in class a few weeks ago -"
"D'you think we've got nothing better to do in Potions than listen to Snape?" mutters Ron.
"It transforms you into somebody else," Hermione explains. "Think about it! We could change into three of the Slytherins. No one would know it was us. Malfoy would probably tell us anything. He's probably boasting about it in the Slytherin common room right now, if only we could hear him."
"This Polyjuice stuff sounds a bit dodgy to me," says Ron, frowning. "What if we were stuck looking like three of the Slytherins forever?"
"It wears off after a while," says Hermione, waving her hand impatiently. "But getting hold of the recipe will be very difficult. Snape said it was in a book called Moste Potente Potions and it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library."
There are only two ways to get out a book from the Restricted Section: You need a signed note of permission from a teacher, or have Polaris get it.
"Hard to see why we'd want the book, really," says Ron, "if we weren't going to try and make one of the potions."
"I think," says Hermione, "that if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance...."
"Oh, come on, no teacher's going to fall for that," says Ron. "They'd have to be really thick...."
"Can you think of no one?" Harry smiles.
Meanwhile
Polaris sits in the darkened enclosure, reading in silence. The sound of small footsteps makes Polaris look up. He sees Ginny walking up to him with a black book in her arms "Hey Ginny, what are you doing here?" Polaris asks. "I need someone to talk to." She replies, sitting down next to him. "Alright, what's up?" says Polaris. Ginny sighs "I have this journal that writes back whenever I write in it." She says. Polaris suddenly becomes alert, but he doesn't show it "what does it say?" He asks. "Usually nice stuff, and helping me through my issues." Ginny replies, smiling.
"Do they have a name?" Polaris asks, becoming more and more concerned each second "yes it does, his name is Tom. He is really nice." Says Ginny in a joyful tone. "Ginny, can I tell you something?" Polaris asks. "Sure, go ahead." Says Ginny
"That book is evil, Ginny. I wrote in it once when I was like six. My uncle found me writing in it and he immediately took it away and told me it was cursed. Tom seems nice at first, but the more you write in it, the more he shows his true colours. Get rid of it, Ginny, please." says Polaris in a worried tone. Ginny gets up and says with an angry tone "Tom isn't evil! You're just jealous you don't have anyone to talk to!" Ginny storms off, leaving Polaris stunned and worried.