By the following day, the whole school knew about the writing on the wall. Gossip spread like wildfire among the student body, and before long it was common knowledge that Millicent Bullstrode's cat had been attacked. Some even said that they'd seen Harry Potter leaving Lockhart's office that night. Everyone was curious to know what he had been doing so close to the scene of the crime, but Harry wasn't in the mood to entertain. He kept apart, even from members of his own house, preferring the company of Blaise and Millie over the prying eyes of the other students.
Millie remained depressed and sullen. Harry and Blaise devoted themselves to cheering her up with reminders that Mamon would be cured soon. They thought they were making progress when she finally opened her mouth to speak, but it was only to snap at them for going on, so they let the subject drop.
By some silent agreement, they knew not to speak to anyone of the voice Harry heard that night. They hadn't even mentioned it among themselves, lest someone overhear. Harry knew the teachers would think he was lying, or worse, have him shipped off to St. Mungo's.
In spite of Harry's refusal to answer any questions put to him about the writing on the wall, the school went on buzzing with theories about what the message could mean. Harry asked Blaise again if he'd ever heard of a Chamber of Secrets within the castle, but Blaise only shrugged his shoulders.
"This placed is riddled with secret passages and the like. I'm sure there's more than one hidden chamber in the school. I mean, look at the third floor corridor."
"But that was just to protect the stone," Harry argued. Now that the Philosopher's Stone had been destroyed and the dangers protecting it removed, the formerly forbidden corridor had been reopened for regular use. "This must be chamber no one knows about."
They knew better than to ask Millie, though her parents, both graduates of Hogwarts, might have mentioned something to her if such a legend did exist.
They did not remain in the dark for long. While the other houses struggled to pry information from the professors, the Slytherin students gathered in their common room about a week after the words appeared. Harry, Blaise, and Millie were surprised on arriving back from dinner to see a crowd growing around the Slytherin prefects. The fire was the only light in the dark common room, and someone had dimmed the enchanted flames. With the water of the lake pressing against the windows, painting them black, the room was cast in an eerie, flickering light, illuminating the rapt faces of the Slytherin students. Sensing that something interesting was about to happen, Harry and Blaise selected a pair of armchairs tucked in a shadowy alcove, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. Millie apparently wanted nothing to do with the proceedings. Drawing her journal out of her pocket, she made her way silently up the stairs to the girls' dormitory to be left alone.
"It starts with the school," Gemma Farley began, once all the students had settled and the conversation died away, "Long ago, when witches and wizards were looked at with hatred by muggles and faced deadly persecution, four great sorcerers decided to build a school as refuge for young mages."
"You already know their names," interrupted the prefect Harry recognized as Adrian Pucey, a chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team, "They were Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin."
There was a murmur of approval as the last name was announced. Harry squirmed impatiently in his seat. He felt that now he was bound to get some answers.
"They knew it would be dangerous for muggles to find the school, so they built it with strong magic to keep those who weren't welcome far away," Gemma said, continuing as if she hadn't been interrupted, "For a while the four founders lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when Salazar Slytherin attacked."
"Well, he didn't attack, per se," Pucey corrected, "More like schemed... Connived?"
Gemma directed a withering glance at him for ruining the mood she was trying to create.
"Very well, let's say plotted," she resumed, "Salazar, once great friends with Godric, fought with him and the other founders over who should be admitted into the school. You see, Salazar did not trust magical children who were muggle-born. The muggles were their hated enemies, and inviting their children into the halls of Hogwarts would be admitting spies. Salazar felt that they were putting the children of pure-blood families in danger by allowing muggle-borns into the school.
"But the other founders wouldn't listen to Salazar's warnings. When he saw that they intended to proceed with their own plans without him, he vowed to leave the school, and would have no further part in it.
"And yet Salazar still cared for the students he was leaving behind, so he created a secret chamber, hidden away from the other founders. They say that inside the chamber, he left a fearsome beast, so there would still be a piece of Salazar to defend the school against invaders and those who would attempt to destroy it."
The Slytherin students broke into spontaneous applause while Gemma stood to take a few bows of gratitude for her audience. When the clapping died down, a lone student raised his hand.
"But what did he hide in the school? What sort of beast was it?" he asked loudly.
Harry felt his stomach clench with second-hand embarrassment. The speaker was none other than Colin Creevy.
A few of the students glared at him, but many more turned their heads back to Gemma, awaiting an explanation.
Gemma shrugged, "Nobody knows. Supposedly it's something that only Salazar Slytherin could control."
"But would he really have used it to attack muggle-borns?" Colin asked. Harry knew what must have been running through his head. After all, Colin was muggle-born.
Gemma smiled at Colin kindly and said in a reassuring voice, "It's alright, Colin. It's just an old legend. It's not real."
"That's not true," Pucey said. Harry saw his face redden as eyes of the anxious students were riveted on him. "I mean, it's been opened before. The chamber..."
Now it was Pucey who commanded the attention of his peers. While he'd been fine stealing the spotlight from Gemma before, he seemed unable to cope with being the main attraction.
"My gran told me about it," Pucey said, "She was just a first-year at the time, but she said the chamber had been opened. Salazar's curse came true, and they nearly had to close the school."
"What happened?" someone from the crowd called out breathlessly.
Pucey shrugged. "Someone died. A student. A girl, I think Gran said."
Harry felt a chill rush through him as he heard these words. Someone had died? A student? Here? He felt like he was going to be sick, and that feeling worsened as another voice called out in a familiar drawl.
"Probably a mudblood. Good riddance, if you ask me."
It wasn't the first time Harry had heard the slur used. There had been times when he'd hear it in snatches of conversation, whispered in a mocking tone by the older Slytherin students. He'd never asked what it meant, because he had a pretty good guess. Hearing it used by Malfoy in this situation, and seeing the color rise in Colin's cheeks, Harry knew his assumption, however horrible, had been correct.
Harry found himself rising from his seat, prepared to take on Malfoy, but he didn't need to. Colin's voice rose again, slightly trembling, but loud and passionate at the same time.
"Well I think it's terrible, and I hope it's not true. It's all well and good to say he was trying to defend the school, but from who? From kids like us? The other founders were right. If muggles were really persecuting witches and wizards, then muggle-borns were the most at risk. And if Slytherin really did create a chamber, then as one of his students, I hope it was for a more noble cause than trying to murder children."
The rest of the Slytherins shifted uncomfortably in their places. There was probably not a student among them who didn't know that Colin was muggle-born. Having said his peace, Colin rose from his seat and began picking his way through the assembled students sitting on the floor, most of them his fellow first-years. No one was able to meet his eye, though Malfoy glared at him as he passed, and stuck his foot out to trip him. Colin stumbled slightly, and Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle laughed, but they were the only ones. Colin collected himself with as much dignity as his small, scrawny frame could muster, and proceeded up the stairs to the boy's dormitory without another word.
Harry felt himself go hot all over in his anger toward Malfoy and the Slytherin students who were not able to meet Colin's gaze. He bolted from the room in pursuit of the first-year, angrily shoving his shoulder against Malfoy as he passed. He called out to Colin, stopping him on the landing just outside the first-year dormitory.
"That was really brave of you," Harry said when he'd caught up to him, "Are you sure you weren't supposed to be a Gryffindor?"
He was trying to make light of the awkward situation, but Colin wasn't his usual smiling self. He stared back at Harry wordlessly, which is not something he could usually maintain in Harry's presence. Just has Harry was wondering if he was going to leave without saying anything, Colin replied.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Me?" asked Harry, stupefied by this response. He'd meant to give Colin a bit of encouragement, to show him that there was someone among his house who felt as he felt. He had not been expecting this accusation.
"Your mum was muggle-born, wasn't she?" Colin asked.
Harry took a step back. He knew Colin was right, and he felt ashamed of himself.
But no one likes to feel like they are in the wrong, and Harry was no exception. He immediately thought of an excuse to defend his silence, and found himself saying, "Listen, Colin. I agree with you. But you need to be careful, especially around the other Slytherins. Most of them come from pure-blood families and..."
He faltered under the force of Colin's stare. He saw something flicker in the younger boy's eyes. It was the unmistakable dimming of his admiration for Harry. It was the realization that someone he'd considered a hero was no more than a boy himself.
"I didn't realize you were more concerned about making friends than doing what's right," Colin said coldy.
"No... That's not..." Harry tried to explain that he was only worried about Colin's safety. If the Chamber of Secrets really had been opened and the legend was true, then Colin could be a target. But Colin had already turned his back on Harry, and closed the door of his dormitory in Harry's face.
Harry merely stood there, starting at the door in shocked silence. Colin's rejection was a heavier blow than he'd expected. He'd thought of Colin as merely an annoyance, but in truth, he'd grown accustomed to the boy's admiration, and maybe even took for granted having someone look up to him as a role model.
He finally turned away from the door, his spirits low, and saw Colin's friend, Pandey, standing on the stair a few feet down. He was staring up at Harry with wide, curious eyes, but Harry merely pushed past him without a word. He couldn't shake the impression that the Sorting Hat was a fool sorting a boy like Colin into Slytherin. He had the makings of a Gryffindor in him, for sure.
"It's Draco. It has to be."
"No. If Draco were related to Salazar Slytherin, he'd never be able to keep it a secret. He'd've boasted about it the first time I met him."
Harry and Blaise strolled down the hall after class, headed toward the library to do some much needed studying prior to a Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. Harry was also hoping to find some literature on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets, and the pair ended up speculating on who the heir could be as they made their way past other students. Harry ignored the many stares he was getting from others. He was, after all, used to being stared at.
Harry was convinced that the culprit had to be in Slytherin with them. After all, Salazar was the house founder, a supporter of pure-blood families, and Syltherin House had the highest concentration of pure-blood students. It made sense that among them, there would be a descendant of Slytherin himself. The question was, who? And who held a grudge against muggle-borns so strong that they would pull a stunt like this?
"What if the Chamber hasn't really been opened?" Blaise asked, "Pucey said it had been opened before, right? Well, they never closed the school, so they must have caught the person responsible. They're probably still in Azkaban as we speak. Whoever left those words on the wall probably just heard about it from a grandparent or something and thought it'd be a funny joke. A way to freak people out on Halloween."
"And Millie's cat?"
Blaise cringed, "So the joke wasn't very funny. That was taking it a little far."
Harry conceded that it was possible, but he couldn't help remembering Dumbledore's words when he said that only powerful dark magic could have petrified the cat.
Their conversation dwindled as they passed a group of Gryffindor boys who were loitering in the hall. Harry recognized Ron Weasley among them, standing in the middle of three other boys whose names Harry couldn't recall at the moment. As Harry walked by, he could hear Ron clearly.
"I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony," he was saying to his friends. Evidently, the knowledge of the legend had spread to the other houses. "To think that all this pure-blood nonsense started with him! I wouldn't be in his house if you paid me. Honestly, if the Sorting Hat had tried putting me into Slytherin, I'd've got the train straight back home."
Ron pretended he was speaking to his friends, but this last comment was directed right at Harry. Harry felt his face flush with embarrassment, and he clenched his fists at his sides. He had begged the Sorting Hat to place him in Gryffindor last year, but it had insisted on placing him in Slytherin, the house he least wanted to be in at the time. He glared back at Ron's group of friends, who must have known the comments were made for his benefit. He wondered if things had been different, would he be with them, belittling Slytherin House without knowing a thing about it?
He could feel his anger mounting, but Blaise placed a hand on his arm and called out to Ron with a smile, "Are you sure you wouldn't take the payment, Weasley? Maybe if every member of your family got paid for being in Gryffindor, you wouldn't be in the state you're in now."
He made a gesture to Ron's tattered robes, a bit short for his tall, lanky frame. Ron took a step forward, but was stopped by his friends. It was no secret that Ron had a large family, and that their resources were often not sufficient to support them all. Blaise, who had never known want or need in his twelve years, laughed at Ron's embarrassment, and pulled Harry along to the library.
Harry didn't like the way Blaise made fun of Ron's family. Whatever his feelings toward the son, he couldn't forget the kindness of Mrs. Weasley the day he first boarded the Hogwarts Express. But he didn't want to start a fight with Blaise either, and knew his friend was merely trying to defend him from the Gryffindor's attacks. So he let Blaise go his own way, finding them a table to study, while Harry moved among the bookshelves, searching for something that might contain information on the Chamber of Secrets.
Harry scanned the selves, skimming the titles of the books, unsure of what he was really looking for. He thought of asking Madame Pince, the librarian, but she was always very stern and unpleasant to talk to. He was sure his asking for information on the Chamber would be viewed with suspicion by a woman like her. That was when, to his luck, he spied Ned Willowby moving among the shelves. Harry caught his eye, and knew Ned had noticed him too, but Ned quickly ducked behind a corner. Harry ran swiftly along the shelf, turning around the corner and cutting Ned off on the other side.
"Ned!" Harry said in a hoarse whisper. Loud conversations were frowned on in the library, "I haven't talked to you in ages!"
"A-Alright, Harry?" Ned whispered back nervously. Harry confronted him with a big smile, refusing to notice that Ned was clearly trying to avoid him.
"Maybe you can help me with something," he said. "I was hoping I could find some information on the Chamber of Secrets."
Ned's eyes widened. He cast his eyes around the library, as if fearful of being overheard. Harry worried he would make some excuse to get away, but instead he said in a small voice, "You and everyone else in the school."
"Well, you're a Ravenclaw. Know of any good books?"
Ned considered, "There's Hogwarts: A History. But all the copies are checked out."
"All?"
"Everyone is as eager to learn about the Chamber as you."
Harry rolled his eyes, cursing his luck. He thought about asking Ned if he had heard anything about the legend of the Chamber from someone in Ravenclaw House. If anyone knew any of the facts surrounding the mysterious chamber, that house seemed the most likely to divulge some useful information. But Ned was looking at him with open curiosity, and seemed burning to ask Harry a question of his own. Harry smiled at him, encouraging with a look the question he knew would inevitably follow.
Ned appeared to gather his courage and finally said, "Harry... Do you know what they're saying about you?"
"That I'm the heir of Slytherin?"
Ned's eyes grew wider, "Is it true?"
"Of course not, Ned. Do I look like the heir of Slytherin?"
Harry had no idea what the heir of Slytherin was supposed to look like, and his question could have easily backfired, but fortunately, this answer seemed to satisfy the Ravenclaw boy, who gave a huge sigh of relief.
"I knew it wasn't true," he said, bestowing a genuine smile on Harry, "I tried to tell the others that you were nice, you know?"
"Er, thanks..."
Ned shot a glare over Harry's shoulder. Harry glanced in the direction of the gaze, and saw that Ned was looking toward the table where Blaise sat, bending over his books and pouring over his charms essay. Harry understood the meaning behind Ned's look. Harry may seem nice, but Ned was casting suspicion on his friend.
Harry couldn't keep a slight edge out of his voice when he said, "Blaise isn't the heir. He can't be. His mother didn't even go to Hogwarts, and her parents live in another country, I'm pretty sure."
Ned gave a nod to show that he heard and accepted what Harry said, but then he asked, "But what about his dad?"
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Blaise had had a lot of fathers, and Harry had heard a number of stories about them all, but Blaise's real father, his biological father, had died before Blaise was born. Blaise knew little about him, and Harry far less. Who had his family been?
Harry shook his head to dispel the doubt that started to cloud his mind. Blaise could not be the heir of Slytherin. Even if his father was somehow descended from Salazar Slytherin, Blaise would never do something so horrible to Millie's cat. Millie was their friend.
"I trust Blaise," Harry said simply.
Ned gave a shrug, saying, "Just be careful, Harry. I believe that you're not the heir, but someone at this school clearly thinks they are, and they might be taking advantage of your fame to avoid getting caught."
"Thanks, Ned," said Harry. The two parted with a nod of mutual respect, and Harry made his way back to Blaise's table, certain that his search for more helpful information would yield no results.
"Fancy a study break?" Harry asked, shoving Blaise's books back into his school bag.
Blaise opened his hands to indicate the parchment and ink spread before him, "I've only just started! And you haven't done anything."
"I've done plenty," Harry replied, "Besides, now's not the time for studying. We have a mystery to solve."
"What?" said Blaise, but Harry was already hurrying out the door, taking Blaise's books with him. Blaise had no choice but to follow.
Harry didn't like the direction that the school gossip was running. He could stand the rumors circulating about himself. He was used to people talking about him, for good or evil. But he couldn't stand it if his friends were viewed with suspicion, and Harry's conversation with Ned showed him that it was only a matter of time before Harry's poor reputation with the rest of the school spread to the people close to him. The best way to clear away all the doubt was to find the real prankster responsible. And to do that, they'd have to investigate. Harry thought he had a pretty good idea of where to start.
They found Millie in the common room. She was seated in an armchair, thankfully alone, as she was most of the time. She was curled up near the fire, passing her time with doodling in her notebook, as usual.
"Hello, Millie," Harry said in greeting, plopping onto a couch directly facing his friend.
"I don't want to talk, Harry," Millie said, still in an irritable mood.
"Not even to find the person who hurt Mamon?"
Millie's eyes flicked to Harry's face, piercing him with a cold stare. Harry knew he'd have to choose his next words carefully.
"The night we found Mamon, there was water on the ground. You said it was from a ghost who flooded the girl's lavatory."
"Moaning Myrtle," Millie confirmed.
Harry wet his lips, prepared for the next assault, "Do you think you could introduce us to her?"
To his surprise, it was not Millie who objected, but Blaise.
"Introduce us? To a mopey ghost who haunts a toilet?" Blaise gasped. Harry tried to shush him, as several other students inhabiting the common room looked over.
"She might have seen something," Harry hissed, "She might even have seen the person who did it! Would anyone have thought to ask her?"
"Probably not," Millie said quietly. "Do you really think she might know?"
"It happened right outside her bathroom. It's worth a shot."
Millie closed her notebook and stood suddenly, "Let's do it. I mean, I don't have as much faith in Myrtle as you, Harry. But like you said, it can't hurt, can it?"
Harry was delighted with his success. Millie had been so sorrowful the past few days, he'd counted on some more resistance from her. It was good to see her energized about something, and he prayed that the ghost did have some information for them, as a lead might keep Millie motivated to catch the person who harmed her cat. Harry knew it was wrong, but he did pity whoever it was. Millie was not going to be pleasant if they were able to catch the culprit.
Millie lead the way, the three of them walking quickly down to the first floor. The paused at the end of the hall. The red writing was still displayed on the wall. Filch had been at it with every enchanted cleaning solution available, but it was stubbornly remaining in place. Harry suspected this had been accomplished through dark magic as well. Harry worried that the sight of it would put Millie off, but after a brief pause, she pressed onward, her steps more determined than ever.
Harry and Blaise did not hesitate to enter the lavatory, in spite of it being for girls. Millie seemed confident when she told them that no one ever used that toilet, given the annoyance of Myrtle's haunting. And so they followed, not in the least embarrassed, though slightly curious to see how a girl's bathroom compared to the boys, and slightly worried that there would be some spell in place to stop them, like the one to keep the boys out of the girl's dorms.
He was disappointed that there was no real difference in the bathrooms. There were the same rows of wooden stalls, the same line of sinks with age-spotted mirrors behind. Except for the water that covered the flagstone floor, it was no different from any other bathroom. That, and the quiet moaning issuing from the last stall.
Harry could hear why Myrtle had been given her nickname. Millie's impressions, however mean-spirited, were nonetheless very accurate. The wails seemed to swell as they walked into the bathroom, perhaps for their benefit, as the ghost was clearly aware that she had an audience.
Harry nudged Millie in the side, giving her a look to tell her to introduce them. Millie shot Harry a glare that he understood as plainly as if she had spoken aloud. Millie agreed to bring them before the ghost, but she had not expected the job of spokesperson.
Harry felt he would be better at making the first introduction, and he cleared his throat politely before making the first assault.
The moaning cry abruptly stopped, and a harsh, nasal voice called out, "Who's there?"
"Erm, hello," Harry said.
"A boy!" cried the voice shrilly, "This is a girl's toilet! Boys aren't allowed!"
"Sorry," Harry said quickly. He shot Millie another glare, as if to blame her for not speaking first. They were already off to a bad start. "I'm not here to, er, interrupt or anything, but we were actually hoping to talk to you?"
"Who is we?" asked the voice, but before Harry could respond, the spectral body of Myrtle passed right through the bathroom stall door, and she floated before them, staring through a pair of thick, transparent glasses at the three of them.
"I'm Harry..."
"I know who you are." Myrtle said. Her gaze was directed at Blaise.
"These are my friends, Blaise and Millicent."
After Harry dispensed with the introductions, he gave a polite pause, allowing time for Myrtle to introduce herself properly if she chose. But Myrtle only continued to stare at him, her expression guarded and suspicious.
"Why did you want to talk to me? No one ever wants to talk to me. Who would want to talk to poor, miserable, dead Myrtle?"
"We would," Blaise said. Myrtle's eyes hadn't strayed from him the whole time she was speaking. Blaise could sense a frail ego like a shark smells blood in water, and he was equally used to attention of the female persuasion. He offered Myrtle his most charming smile, "At the very least, I would."
Myrtle's transparent cheeks turned slightly more opaque, and Harry had a suspicion that Myrtle was blushing.
"We wanted to ask you about Halloween night. You do remember that night, I suppose?"
"Of course, that's all anyone's been talking about. Even the ghosts, you know." Myrtle said. Harry noticed that she couldn't keep a smug tone of superiority out of her voice.
"Well you must know a good deal about it," Harry said, risking taking Myrtle's attention from Blaise, "After all, you, er, stay just down the hall from where the message was found."
Myrtle gave a sniff. "Maybe..." she said, as if not willing to disclose her knowledge so quickly. Perhaps she was worried they would leave again as soon as they knew what information she had. Or, what seemed more likely, perhaps she knew they would lose interest if they discovered she knew nothing more than anyone else.
"Did you see anyone that night?" Harry asked, determined to press for more.
"Of course, I saw you," Myrtle replied, pointing a finger at Millie.
Millie rolled her eyes, "I know you saw me. You soaked my robes, remember? Did you see anyone else?"
Harry saw that Millie had made a mistake instantly. Millie's response had been short and rather rude, and the effect on Myrtle was instantaneous. Her face screwed up, at even more of a disadvantage with the force of her emotions. Myrtle was apparently very sensitive, and this comment of Millie's, so direct and so obviously full of dislike, set her off.
"You needn't be so rude! You probably deserved to be soaked, just like all the others! You think I don't know what you all say about me? What you all call me behind my back! You're not different, you're just like the rest!"
And with a great desperate wail, she darted back into her toilet, sending a torrent of toilet water spraying into the air, high enough to strike the ceiling and sprinkle back onto them all, covering them in water from head to toe.
"Brilliant idea, Harry," Blaise said, giving his robes a shake. Millie said nothing, but she gave Harry a stern glare, obviously blaming him for being the brains behind this idea.
Harry said nothing to defend himself. It was true that they hadn't gotten any useful information out of the ghost. It was frustrating. This first obstacle, cutting away their only lead, was a bitter pill to swallow.
They returned to the hall, though the sight at the end nearly sent them running back into the bathroom again. Filch had returned to his post. He had dragged a step ladder in front of the heir's message, and was busy trying yet another cleaning solution. The stubborn words remained, and he was muttering to himself under his breath, clearly furious that his efforts were in vain.
He was so bent upon his work that he did not notice the three children enter the hall from the lavatory. And they were able to keep watch on him for some moments in silence.
Harry murmured to the others, "Perhaps we can search for a clue? Myrtle was no help, but maybe the heir left something behind other than the message?"
They conducted a brief, quick search, trying to keep silent to avoid Filch's wrath if they were detected in that part of the school, but their brief search yielded no results. Blaise finally lifted his head from staring at the floor.
"This is just sad," he said, suddenly directing his steps directly toward Filch. Harry had just detected some faint scorch marks on the floor that he thought might be a clue, and he would have directed his friend's attention to it, had Blaise not already been at the base of Filch's ladder.
"I may know a charm that could take care of that," Blaise announced boldly, "Care for me to give it a try?"
Filch gave a jump of fright, not realizing before that moment that he had not been alone in the hall. He nearly tumbled off his ladder, and he turned his bulging eyes and sweaty brow toward Blaise in indignation.
"What do you think you're doing here? Students shouldn't be here while this... this..."
"This is a hallway," Blaise argued, "And we have to use it to get to class. I don't see why..."
"Suspect! Suspect! Get out of here before I bring you in front of the headmaster under suspicion of … conspiracy, that's what this is! Ought to take you to detention to myself! Conspiracy to commit further vandalism!"
Blaise turned on his heel and rushed with Harry and Millie out of the hall while Filch continued to hurl his abuse at their backs. Blaise's expression was sour, and Harry distinctly heard Blaise mutter, "Bloody Squib..." under his breath.
Harry had no idea what a squib was, but it certainly sounded mean.