Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Ch. Fifteen) GIANT CHANGE!!! YOU WON'T WANT TO MISS THIS!!!

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Enemy’s Fate

 

“All those times we were in that bathroom, and she was just three toilets away,” said Ron bitterly, “and we could’ve asked her, and now…”

It had been hard enough trying to look for spiders. Escaping their teachers long enough to sneak into a girls’ bathroom, the girls’ bathroom, moreover, right next to the scene of the first attack, was going to be almost impossible. But something happened in Harry’s first lesson, Transfiguration, that drove the Chamber of Secrets out of his mind for the first time in weeks.

Ten minutes into the class, Professor McGonagall told them that their exams would start on the first of June, one week from today.

“Exams?” howled Pete. “We’re still getting exams?”

Professor McGonagall turned, frowning, to Pete. “The whole point of keeping the school open at this time is for you to receive your education,” she said sternly. “The exams will therefore take place as usual, and I trust you are all studying hard.”

Studying hard! It had never occurred to Harry that there would be exams with the castle in this state. There was a great deal of mutinous muttering around the room, which made Professor McGonagall scowl even more darkly. “Professor Dumbledore’s instructions were to keep the school running as normally as possible, she said. “And that, I need hardly point out, means finding out how much you have learned this year.”

Harry looked down at the pair of white rabbits he was supposed to be turning into slippers. What had he learned so far this year? He couldn’t seem to think of anything that would be useful in an exam.

Later at lunch, Ron looked as though he’d just been told he had to go and live in the Forbidden Forest. (He hadn’t had Transfiguration yet today) “Can you imagine me taking exams with this?” he asked Harry, holding up his wand, which had just started whistling loudly.

 

Three days before their first exam, Professor McGonagall made another announcement at breakfast.

“I have good news,” she said, and the Great Hall, instead of falling silent, erupted.

“Dumbledore’s coming back!” several people yelled joyfully.

“You’ve caught the Heir of Slytherin!” squealed a girl at the Ravenclaw table.

“Quidditch matches are back on!” roared Oliver Wood excitedly.

When the hubbub had subsided, Professor McGonagall said, “Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit.”

There was an explosion of cheering. Harry looked down the Slytherin table and wasn’t at all surprised to see that Draco Malfoy hadn’t joined in.

Ron, however, was looking happier than he’d looked in days. “It won’t matter that we never asked Myrtle, then!” he said to Harry. “Hermione’ll probably have all the answers when they wake her up! Mind you, she’ll go crazy when she finds out we’ve got exams in three days’ time. She hasn’t studied. It might be kinder to leave her where she is till they’re over.”

Just then, Ginny Weasley came over and sat down next to Ron. She looked tense and nervous, and Harry noticed that her hands were twisting in her lap.

“What’s up?” said Ron, helping himself to more porridge.

Ginny didn’t say anything, but glanced up and down the Gryffindor table with a scared look on her face that reminded Harry of someone, though he couldn’t think who.

“Spit it out,” said Ron, watching her.

Harry suddenly realized who Ginny looked like. She was rocking backward and forward slightly in her chair, exactly like Dobby did when he was teetering on the edge of revealing forbidden information.

“I’ve got to tell you something,” Ginny mumbled, carefully not looking at Harry.

“What is it?” said Harry.

Ginny looked as though she couldn’t find the right words.

“What?” said Ron.

Ginny opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Harry leaned forward and spoke quietly, so that only Ginny and Ron could hear him. “Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets? Have you seen something? Someone acting oddly?”

Ginny drew a deep breath, and, at that precise moment, Percy Weasley appeared, looking tired and wan.

“If you’ve finished eating, I’ll take that seat, Ginny. I’m starving, I’ve only just come off patrol duty.”

Ginny jumped up as though her chair had just been electrified, gave Percy a fleeting, frightened look, and scampered away. Percy sat down and grabbed a mug from the center of the table.

“Percy!” said Ron angrily. “She was just about to tell us something important!”

Halfway through a gulp of tea, Percy choked. “What sort of thing?” he said, coughing.

“I just asked her if she’d seen anything odd, and she started to say…”

“Oh — that — that’s nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets,” said Percy at once.

“How do you know?” said Ron, his eyebrows raised.

“Well, er, if you must know, Ginny, er, walked in on me the other day when I was — well, never mind — the point is, she spotted me doing something and I, um, I asked her not to mention it to anybody. I must say, I did think she’d keep her word. It’s nothing, really, I’d just rather —”

Harry had never seen Percy look so uncomfortable.

“What were you doing, Percy?” said Ron, grinning. “Go on, tell us, we won’t laugh.”

Percy didn’t smile back. “Pass me those rolls, Harry, I’m starving.”

Harry knew the whole mystery might be solved tomorrow without their help, but he wasn’t about to pass up a chance to speak to Myrtle if it turned up — and to his delight it did, midmorning, when they were being led to History of Magic by Gilderoy Lockhart.

Lockhart, who had so often assured them that all danger had passed, only to be proved wrong right away, was now wholeheartedly convinced that it was hardly worth the trouble to see them safely down the corridors. His hair wasn’t as sleek as usual; it seemed he had been up most of the night, patrolling the fourth floor.

“Mark my words,” he said, ushering them around a corner. “The first words out of those poor Petrified people’s mouths will be ‘It was Hagrid.’ Frankly, I’m astounded Professor McGonagall thinks all these security measures are necessary.”

“I agree, sir,” said Harry.

“Thank you, Harry,” said Lockhart graciously while they waited for a long line of Hufflepuffs to pass. “I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with, without walking students to classes and standing guard all night…”

“That’s right,” said Harry. “Why don’t you leave us here, sir, we’ve only got one more corridor to go —”

“You know, Harry, I think I will,” said Lockhart. “I really should go and prepare my next class —” And he hurried off.

Harry let the rest of the Slytherins draw ahead of him, then darted down a side passage and hurried off toward Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. But just as he was congratulating himself on his brilliant scheme.

“Potter! What are you doing?” It was Professor McGonagall, and her mouth was the thinnest of thin lines.

“I was- I was-” Harry stammered. “I was going to — to go and see — Hermione,”

Professor McGonagall both looked at him.

“I haven’t seen her for ages, Professor,” Harry went on hurriedly. “and I thought I’d sneak into the hospital wing, you know, and tell her the Mandrakes are nearly ready and, er, not to worry —”

Professor McGonagall was still staring at him, and for a moment, Harry thought she was going to explode, but when she spoke, it was in a strangely croaky voice.

“Of course,” she said, and Harry, amazed, saw a tear glistening in her beady eye. “Of course, I realize this has all been hardest on the friends of those who have been… I quite understand. Yes, Potter, of course you may visit Miss Granger. I will inform Professor Binns where you’ve gone. Tell Madam Pomfrey I have given my permission.”

Harry walked away, hardly daring to believe that he’d avoided detention. As he turned the corner, he distinctly heard Professor McGonagall blow her nose.

 He had no choice now but to go to the hospital wing and tell Madam Pomfrey that he had Professor McGonagall’s permission to visit Hermione.

Madam Pomfrey let him in, but reluctantly. “There’s just no point talking to a Petrified. person,” she said, and he had to admit she had a point when he’d taken his seat next to Hermione.

It was plain that Hermione didn’t have the faintest inkling that she had a visitor, and that they might just as well tell her bedside cabinet not to worry for all the good it would do.

“Wonder if she did see the attacker, though?” muttered Harry to himself, looking sadly at Hermione’s rigid face. “Because if he sneaked up on them all, no one’ll ever know…”

Something caught Harry’s interest in Hermione’s right hand. It lay clenched on top of her blankets, and bending closer, he saw that a piece of paper was scrunched inside her fist. Making sure that Madam Pomfrey was nowhere near, he shifted his chair so that he blocked what he was doing from Madam Pomfrey’s view. It was no easy task. Hermione’s hand was clamped so tightly around the paper that Harry was sure he was going to tear it. He tugged and twisted, and at last, after several tense minutes, the paper came free. It was a page torn from a very old library book. Harry smoothed it out eagerly.

Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken’s egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.

And beneath this, a single word had been written, in a hand Harry recognized as Hermione’s. Pipes. It was as though somebody had just flicked a light on in his brain.

“This is it.” He breathed “This is the answer. The monster in the Chamber’s a basilisk — a giant serpent! That’s why I’ve been hearing that voice all over the place, and nobody else has heard it. It’s because I understand Parseltongue…” Harry looked up at the beds around him. “The basilisk kills people by looking at them. But no one’s died — because no one looked it straight in the eye. Colin saw it through his camera. The basilisk burned up all the film inside it, but Colin just got Petrified. Justin… Justin must’ve seen the basilisk through Nearly Headless Nick! Nick got the full blast of it, but he couldn’t die again… and Hermione and that Ravenclaw prefect were found with a mirror next to them. Hermione had just realized the monster was a basilisk. I bet you anything she warned the first person she met to look around corners with a mirror first! And that girl pulled out her mirror — and — And Mrs. Norris?” Harry thought hard, picturing the scene on the night of Halloween. “The water…” he said slowly. “The flood from Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. I bet you Mrs. Norris only saw the reflection…”

He scanned the page in his hand eagerly. The more he looked at it, the more it made sense. “… The crowing of the rooster… is fatal to it”! he read aloud. “Hagrid’s roosters were killed! The Heir of Slytherin didn’t want one anywhere near the castle once the Chamber was opened! Spiders flee before it.! It all fits!”

Harry pointed at the word Hermione had scribbled at the foot of the page. “Pipes,” he said. “Pipes… it’s been using the plumbing. I’ve been hearing that voice inside the walls…

“The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets!” Harry said hoarsely. “What if it’s a bathroom? What if it’s in — Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom,” said Harry.

He sat there, excitement coursing through him, hardly able to believe it. “This means,” said Harry, “I can’t be the only Parselmouth in the school. The Heir of Slytherin’s one, too. That’s how he’s been controlling the basilisk.”

I’ve got to go to the staff room. Harry thought. Warn McGonagall. She’ll be there in ten minutes, it’s nearly break.

He ran downstairs. Not wanting to be discovered hanging around in another corridor, He went straight into the deserted staff room. It was a large, paneled room full of dark, wooden chairs. Harry paced around it, too excited to sit down.

But the bell to signal break never came. Instead, echoing through the corridors came Professor McGonagall’s voice, magically magnified. “All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please.”

Harry mind whirled. Not another attack? Not now?

Harry glanced around. There was an ugly sort of wardrobe to his left, full of the teachers’ cloaks.

Let’s hear what it’s all about. Then I can tell Ron what I’ve found out.

He hid himself inside it, listening to the rumbling of hundreds of people moving overhead, and the staff room door banging open.

From between the musty folds of the cloaks, he watched the teachers filtering into the room. Some of them were looking puzzled, others downright scared.

Then Professor McGonagall arrived. “It has happened,” she told the silent staff room. “A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself.”

Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth.

Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, “How can you be sure?”

“The Heir of Slytherin,” said Professor McGonagall, who was very white, “left another message. Right underneath the first one. ‘His skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.’”

Professor Flitwick burst into tears.

“Who is it?” said Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair. “Which student?”

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath. “Draco Malfoy.”