"𝖬𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖢𝗁𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗌 𝖧𝗈𝗀𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌!"
By next morning, however, the snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of the term was canceled: Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else, now that it was so important for the Mandrakes to grow quickly and revive Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey.
Y/n and Daphne wandered the halls, arms linked. Blaize and Theodore not far behind them. Y/n would turn and smile at Theodore causing him to turn bright red. Daphne would laugh while Blaize rolled his eyes.
"You know he fancies you, right?" Daphne said.
"He doesn't, nobody would like me. I'm a L/n, I'm supposedly feared," Y/n said as she looked down at the floor.
"You are as scary as Gilderoy is dangerous," Daphne said letting out a small chuckle.
"You're only saying that to make me feel better," Y/n said nudging Daphne.
"No, I'm telling you the truth."
"We get it, you guys are best friend," Blaize said in a loud voice.
Y/n looked over and made eye contact with Theo. Her face went up in temperature. She quickly looked away. Blaize looked in disgust, Theodore looked like he was about to faint. He shook his head, getting second hand embarrassment.
"ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"
Blaize grabbed Y/n and Daphne wanting to get away from the shouting, but Theodore grabbed him and pulled them towards it.
Crash — crash — crash — door after door flew open along the corridor and people flooded out. For several long minutes, there was a scene of such confusion that Justin was in danger of being squashed and people kept standing in Nearly Headless Nick. Harry was pinned against the wall as the teachers shouted for quiet. Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class, one of whom still had black-and-white-striped hair. She used her wand to set off a loud bang, which restored silence, and ordered everyone back.
Y/n ran towards the common room, Daphne following behind her.
"This is getting out of hand," Y/n said as she paced around, her fingers tugging on her hair.
Daphne sat on the couch, waiting for Y/n to calm down. Jasper jumped onto her lap and stared at his owner. Daphne ran her pale fingers through his dark fur. She made eye contact with her best friend. Patting the couch, she smiled. Y/n let out a shaky sigh as she ambled. Plopping next Daphne, Y/n played with her blonde hair. She couldn't help but smile as she twirled a strand of her friends hair.
"Everything will sort itself out, Professor Dumbledore along with the others will take care of it. You don't have anything to worry about," Daphne stated.
"What would I do without you," Y/n asked as she shooed Jasper so she could lay an Daphne's lap.
"Probably die from stupidity."
Letting out a chuckle, Y/n closed her eyes and fell into slumber.
The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick turned what had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. Curiously, it was Nearly Headless Nick's fate that seemed to worry people most. What could possibly do that to a ghost? people asked each other; what terrible power could harm someone who was already dead?
There was almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that students could go home for Christmas.
"At this rate, we'll be the only ones left," Ron told Harry, Y/n, and Hermione. "Us, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. What a jolly holiday it's going to be."
Crabbe and Goyle, who always did whatever Draco did, had signed up to stay over the holidays, too. But Harry was glad that most people were leaving. He was tired of people skirting around him in the corridors, as though he were about to sprout fangs or spit poison; tired of all the muttering, pointing, and hissing as he passed.
Fred and George, however, found all this very funny. They went out of their way to march ahead of Harry down the corridors, shouting, "Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through. . . ."
Percy was deeply disapproving of this behavior.
"It is not a laughing matter," he said coldly.
"Oh, get out of the way, Percy," said Fred. "Harry's in a hurry."
"Yeah, he's off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant," said George, chortling.
Ginny didn't find it amusing either.
"Oh, don't," she wailed every time Fred asked Harry loudly who he was planning to attack next, or when George pretended to ward Harry off with a large clove of garlic when they met.
Harry didn't mind; it made him feel better that Fred and George, at least, thought the idea of his being Slytherin's heir was quite ludicrous. But their antics seemed to be aggravating Draco Malfoy, who looked increasingly sour each time he saw them at it.
"It's because he's bursting to say it's really him," said Ron knowingly. "You know how he hates anyone beating him at anything, and you're getting all the credit for his dirty work."
"Not for long," said Hermione in a satisfied tone. "The Polyjuice Potion's nearly ready. We'll be getting the truth out of him any day now."
"I still think it isn't him," Y/n muttered.
At last the term ended, and a silence deep as the snow on the grounds descended on the castle. Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Y/n had the entire common to themselves. They would practice dueling, stay up as late as possible. Y/n even dragged Draco around the castle during night hours.
"We're going to get in trouble," Draco hissed.
"That's if we get caught," Y/n said with a big grin.
She held his hand as they pattered from hallway to hallway. The stone cold walls gave off an eerie feeling, making Draco more paranoid. Echo's could be heard but they didn't know from where it came from. They climbed up the stars until they reached the Astronomy tower. She smiled as she looked at the starry sky. They slowly stopped and sat down.
"It wouldn't be like this back at home," She said to her blonde friend.
"Its always like this at my home," Draco said looking at her deadpanned.
"I live in the city, there was too much light that you couldn't see the constellations clearly, but here you can," The stars could be seen swirled with the storm brewing in her eyes. "Like there, that's Ares."
Draco didn't look at the stars, he looked at Y/n. Her hair messily done, a bit of drool from her earlier nap, and her chubby cheeks; he enjoyed looking at her.
Y/n laid her head on his lap, she tugged on his night shirt, "You haven't even looked at it."
He let out a sigh of annoyance. He looked up, he always saw the stars, so what was so important about them?
"There's Orion, Cassiopeia, and look!" She pointed excitedly, "Pisces, you could never find it in the city."
He stared. They didn't seem that special.
"There's Castor and Pollux, the twin. And Sirius!"
"There's the seven sisters," Draco lazily pointed out.
"Wait really, I didn't see them."
"What's do special about stars anyway."
"Nothing," Y/n stated with a small smile. "They're just there. They will always be there."
Taking a deep breathe, Y/n stood up. She extended her hand.
"Coming?"
Draco placed his hand in hers, awaiting the anxiety he'll feel on their way back to the common room.
Morning dawned on the school. Y/n awoke to loud screaming. Worried, she bolted out of bed nearly stepping on Jasper. Opening the door she saw Draco on top of Crabbe and Goyle at the bottom of the stairs. Barely being able to containing herself she burst out laughing.
Draco scrambled to get up, red face and still in his pajamas. Y/n began to walk down the stairs, Draco stepped on the first step. The stairs turned into a slide causing Y/n to fall and slide down. Draco ran to the other side of the common room as Y/n tried catching up to him. They ran around the common room, Draco using Crabbe and Goyle as a shield at moments. The chase ended with Draco getting hit with a pillow.
"Merry Christmas Draco," Y/n said, her round cheeks red from running.
"Merry Christmas Y/n"
Crabbe and Goyle stared, waiting for them to open the presents with them. Y/n mom got her muggle book about a boy whose dad is Greek god. Daphne got her a warm knitted sweater with a sunflower in the center. Theodore sent her a necklace with her last initial. Y/n admired it, her cheeks beginning to flush pink. Draco stared at it.
"Who got you that?" he asked her.
"Oh, Theo did, isn't it lovely."
Draco gave a shrug, he couldn't help but feel bad that he didn't get Y/n anything. She gave him a hand knitted sweater. She was really bad at hiding it. She would scold her cat when he'd play with the yarn and leaving the crime scene out for him to see it.
The Great Hall looked magnificent. Not only were there a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. Dumbledore led them in a few of his favorite carols, Hagrid booming more and more loudly with every goblet of eggnog he consumed. Draco kept making loud remarks on his sweater, Y/n blushed with embarrassment.
Having a stuffed stomach, they headed to the common room. Crabbe and Goyle went ahead, hoarding an armful of muffins and other sweets. Y/n began to shove some in her sweater but stopped as Draco dragged her away from the table.
"Now where did those buffoons go off to?" He asked out loud as he looked around the Great Hall entrance.
"They probably went ahead, come on."
Y/n laced her hand into his and pulled him to the common rooms.
She sat on the couch, her head on Draco's lap as he read a clipping of the Daily Prophet. Y/n plucked it out of his hand and began to read
INQUIRY AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, was today fined fifty Galleons for bewitching a Muggle car.
Mr. Lucius Malfoy, a governor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the enchanted car crashed earlier this year, called today for Mr. Weasley's resignation. "Weasley has brought the Ministry into disrepute," Mr. Malfoy told our reporter. "He is clearly unfit to draw up our laws and his ridiculous Muggle Protection Act should be scrapped immediately."
Mr. Weasley was unavailable for comment, although his wife told reporters to clear off or she'd set the family ghoul on them.
"Poor Mr. Weasley," Y/n said.
"Come on Y/n, this is hilarious," Draco admired it. "We need to show this to Crabbe and Goyle."
"Where are they anyway?"
Draco gave a shrug. They got up and went looking for them. When they found they were by the entrance of the dungeon they saw them with Percy Weasley.
"There you are," Draco drawled, looking at them. "Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I've been looking for you; I want to show you something really funny."
He glanced witheringly at Percy.
"And what're you doing down here, Weasley?" he sneered.
Percy looked outraged.
"You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect!" he said. "I don't like your attitude!"
Draco sneered and motioned for Goyle and Crabbe to follow him. Y/n gave Percy an apologetic smile. She gave Draco a slight push, who said as they turned into the next passage, "That Peter Weasley —"
"Percy," Crabbe corrected him.
"Whatever," said Draco. "I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single-handed."
He gave a short, derisive laugh. Goyle and Crabbe exchanged excited looks. Y/n raised a brow at them.
Draco paused by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall.
"What's the new password again?" he said to Goyle.
"Er —" said Goyle.
"Oh, yeah — pure-blood!" said Draco, not listening, and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open. Draco marched through it holding onto Y/n's hand, and Goyle and Crabbe followed them.
"Wait here," said Draco to Harry and Ron, motioning them to a pair of empty chairs set back from the fire. "I'll go and get it my father's just sent it to me —"
"So, Polyjuice potion?" Y/n said looking at them.
"H-how did you know?!" Goyle said.
"Ron corrected Draco, Crabbe wouldn't do that," Y/n said as she plopped herself onto the couch.
Draco came back a minute later, holding the newspaper clipping. He thrust it under Crabbe's nose.
"That'll give you a laugh," he said.
Goyle and Crabbe's eyes widen in shock. He read the clipping quickly, gave a very forced laugh, and handed it to Goyle.
"Well?" said Draco impatiently as Goyle handed the clipping back to him. "Don't you think it's funny?"
"Ha, ha," said Goyle bleakly.
"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them," said Draco scornfully. "You'd never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave." Y/n gave him a slight nudge
Crabbe' face was contorted with fury.
"What's up with you, Crabbe?" snapped Draco.
"Stomachache," Crabbe grunted.
"Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those mudbloods a kick from me," said Draco, snickering. "You know, I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet," he went on thoughtfully. "I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves muggleborns. A decent headmaster would never let slime like that Creevey in."
Draco started taking pictures with an imaginary camera and did a cruel but accurate impression of Colin: "'Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?"'
He dropped his hands and looked at Goyle and Crabbe. "What's the matter with you two?"
Far too late, Harry and Ron forced themselves to laugh, but Malfoy seemed satisfied; perhaps Crabbe and Goyle were always slow on the uptake.
"I think you're just jealous Draco," Y/n said Jasper jumped onto the couch.
"Jealous of what? Not having a scar on my head?"
Y/n shrugged as she ran her fingers through her cat's dark fur. "He is quite a looker."
Draco's face went red in anger while Goyle's went pink.
"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," said Draco slowly. "He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped up Granger mudblood. And people think he's Slytherin's heir!"
Crabbe and Goyle waited with bated breath: Draco was surely seconds away from telling them it was him — but then "I wish I knew who it is," said Draco petulantly. "I could help them."
"You must have some idea who's behind it all..." Goyle said fast
"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?" snapped Draco. "And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing — last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time...I hope it's Granger," he said with relish.
Crabbe's gigantic fist began to clench. Goyle shot him a warning look and said, "D'you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?"
"Oh, yeah...whoever it was was expelled," said Draco. "They're probably still in Azkaban."
"Azkaban?" said Goyle, puzzled.
"Azkaban — the wizard prison, Goyle" said Draco, looking at him in disbelief "Honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going backward."
He shifted restlessly in his chair and said, "Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"
Y/n could tell Harry tried to force Goyle's dull face into a look of concern.
"Yeah..." said Draco. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor —"
"Ho!" said Crabbe.
Draco looked at him. So did Y/n. Ron blushed. Even his hair was turning red. His nose was also slowly lengthening — their hour was up, Ron was turning back into himself..
They both jumped to their feet.
"Medicine for my stomach," Ron grunted, and without further ado they sprinted the length of the Slytherin common room, hurled themselves at the stone wall, and dashed up the passage.
"What was that about?" Draco asked her.
"I don't know, they probably ate something they weren't supposed to."
"Probably."
"If I'd sprouted whiskers, I'd take a break from work," said Ron, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione's bedside table one evening.
"Don't be silly, Ron, I've got to keep up," said Hermione briskly. Her spirits were greatly improved by the fact that all the hair had gone from her face and her eyes were turning slowly back to brown. "I don't suppose you've got any new leads?" she added in a whisper, so that Madam Pomfrey couldn't hear her.
"Nothing," said Harry gloomily.
"I was so sure it was Malfoy," said Ron, for about the hundredth time.
"I kept telling you it wasn't," Y/n said with a triumph smile. If they'd listen to her then Hermione wouldn't have grown a tail. "Still, sorry you got Jasper's hair."
"What's that?" asked Harry, pointing to something gold sticking out from under Hermione's pillow.
"Just a get well card," said Hermione hastily, trying to poke it out of sight, but Ron was too quick for her. He pulled it out, flicked it open, and read aloud:
"To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award."
Ron looked up at Hermione, disgusted.
"You sleep with this under your pillow?"
But Hermione was spared answering by Madam Pomfrey sweeping over with her evening dose of medicine.
"Is Lockhart the smarmiest bloke you've ever met, or what?" Ron said to Y/n as they left the infirmary and started up the stairs. Snape had given them so much homework, Y/n thought she was likely to be in the sixth year before she finished it. Ron was just saying he wished he had asked Hermione how many rat tails you were supposed to add to a Hair Raising Potion when an angry outburst from the floor above reached their ears.
"That's Filch," Harry muttered as they hurried up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening hard.
"You don't think someone else's been attacked?" said Ron tensely.
They stood still, their heads inclined toward Filch's voice, which sounded quite hysterical.
"— even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore —"
His footsteps receded along the out-of-sight corridor and they heard a distant door slam. They poked their heads around the corner. Filch had clearly been manning his usual lookout post:
They were once again on the spot where Mrs. Norris had been attacked. They saw at a glance what Filch had been shouting about. A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Now that Filch had stopped shouting, they could hear Myrtle's wails echoing off the bathroom walls.
"Now what's up with her?" said Ron.
"Let's go and see," said Y/n, and holding their robes over their ankles they stepped through the great wash of water to the door bearing its OUT OF ORDER sign, ignored it as always, and entered.
Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, louder and harder than ever before. She seemed to be hiding down her usual toilet. It was dark in the bathroom because the candles had been extinguished in the great rush of water that had left both walls and floor soaking wet.
"What's up, Myrtle?" said Harry.
"Who's that?" glugged Myrtle miserably. "Come to throw something else at me?"
Harry waded across to her stall and said, "Why would I throw something at you?"
"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me. . . ."
"But it can't hurt you if someone throws something at you," said Harry, reasonably. "I mean, it'd just go right through you, wouldn't it?"
He had said the wrong thing. Myrtle puffed herself up and shrieked, "Let's all throw books at Myrtle, because she can't feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha, ha, ha! What a lovely game, I don't think!"
"Who threw it at you, anyway?" asked Harry.
"I don't know... I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head," said Myrtle, glaring at them. "It's over there, it got washed out. . . ."
Harry, Y/n and Ron looked under the sink where Myrtle was pointing. A small, thin book lay there. It had a shabby black cover and was as wet as everything else in the bathroom. Y/n stepped forward to pick it up, but Ron suddenly flung out an arm to hold her back.
"What?" said Y/n.
"Are you crazy?" said Ron. "It could be dangerous."
" Dangerous ?" said Y/n, laughing. "Come off it, how could it be dangerous?"
"You'd be surprised," said Ron, who was looking apprehensively at the book. "Some of the books the Ministry's confiscated — Dad's told me — there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read Sonnets of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading! You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And —"
"All right, we get the point," said Y/n.
The little book lay on the floor, nondescript and soggy.
"Well, we won't find out unless we look at it," she said, and she ducked around Ron and picked it up off the floor. Harry quickly followed behind and looked over her shoulder.
Y/n saw at once that it was a diary, and the faded year on the cover told her it was fifty years old. She opened it eagerly. On the first page she could just make out the name "T. M. Riddle" in smudged ink.
"Hang on," said Ron, who had approached cautiously and was looking over Harry's shoulder. "I know that name. . . . T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago."
"How on earth d'you know that?" said Harry in amazement.
"Because Filch made me polish his shield about fifty times in detention," said Ron resentfully. "That was the one I burped slugs all over. If you'd wiped slime off a name for an hour, you'd remember it, too."
Y/n peeled the wet pages apart. They were completely blank. There wasn't the faintest trace of writing on any of them, not even Auntie Mabel's birthday, or dentist, half-past three.
"He never wrote in it," said Harry, disappointed.
"I wonder why someone wanted to flush it away?" said Ron curiously.
Y/n turned to the back cover of the book and saw the printed name of a variety store on Vauxhall Road, London.
"He must've been Muggle-born," said Y/n thoughtfully. "To have bought a diary from Vauxhall Road. . . ."
"Well, it's not much use to you," said Ron. He dropped his voice. "Fifty points if you can get it through Myrtle's nose."
Y/n, however, pocketed it.
Looking it at as laid one her bed. Daphne wrapped her arms around her shoulders an looked at.
"Still nothing?" She asked.
"Still nothing," Y/n confirmed.
"Had you even tried writing in?"
Y/n felt extremely stupid.