Nothing Left to Lose
Tuesday, May 25th, 1993
“Moaning Myrtle?” Draco asked Harry the next day at breakfast. “Really?”
He was under the confident belief that she was the girl killed fifty years ago, as she died in a bathroom and was, well, a girl, and… the theory wasn’t bad, by any means, especially considering how they had barely a lead to go off of, but Weasley was right in bitterly moping; it was hard enough under the watchful eyes of the teacher to look for spiders. Now they had to find a way to get to an ‘OUT OF ORDER’ girls’ bathroom when everyone got escorted… everywhere?
Not likely.
The mood was not helped by Transfiguration, when Draco got to be informed that, amid several attacks, the suspension of their Headmaster from the school, and just general bad vibes all around, they were still having exams.
“Exams?” Finnigan yelled from the back of the class. “We’re still getting exams?”
Longbottom had been so surprised as to drop his wand and vanish a leg of his desk. McGonagall fixed it with a wave of her wand and frowned down at Finnigan.
“The whole point of keeping the school open at this time is for you to receive your education,” she told him sternly. “The exams will therefore take place as usual, and I trust you are all studying hard.”
Draco scoffed. If they were seriously going to have exams, then at this point they should just close the school until September and say come back for a redo year, because no one was going to pass.
“Professor Dumbledore’s instructions were to keep the school running as normally as possible,” McGonagall now scowled at all of the class. “And that, I need hardly point out, means finding out how much you have learned this year.”
What had Draco learned this year? Oh, let’s see;
- His father was an evil maniac.
- The Chamber of Secrets was, in fact, a thing.
- Dumbledore was apparently okay with a pack of murderous Acromantula living in the Forbidden Forest, just outside of a school with children.
- Gilderoy Lockhart is probably (definitely) not all he was cracked up to be.
- He had a massive crush on Harry Potter.
Real useful stuff for his F.R.O.G.’s, Dad would be oh so proud to see him come home with seven T’s.
-*-*-*-
Saturday, May 29th
Three days before their first exam (still ridiculous, though when Draco had tried to pick up a book and actually remember what he had learned this year without Hermione it just felt sad) McGonagall made an announcement to them all at breakfast.
“I have good news,” she said, looking the most cheerful she had in a very long time. Draco looked up with interest and placed down his dittany salve, which Madam Pomfrey had given him for the scratch on his cheek. “Dumbledore’s coming back!”
Cheers rippled across the Hall, and a girl from Ravenclaw called out, “You’ve caught the Heir of Slytherin!”
“Quidditch matches are back on!” Wood roared.
“Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last,” McGonagall continued. “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.”
The hall erupted into cheers, and Draco couldn’t help joining in with a wide smile. If it ended now, then maybe no one would connect the dots that his father had worked with the Heir. He’d gotten away with working for Voldemort, hadn’t he?
“It won’t matter that we never asked Myrtle, then!” Weasley roared over the cheers across from Draco, looking just as happy, “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.”
Draco opened his mouth to agree, then wrenched it shut with a frown. Weaslette was walking over to them, looking as shy as ever, oblivious to the maddening jealousy she was causing in his stomach. She sat down beside Weasley.
“What’s up?” her brother asked her as he dumped porridge on his plate, but she didn’t answer, glancing up and down the Gryffindor table nervously, looking twitchy and scared.
Weasley stopped to watch her, frowning. “Spit it out.”
“I’ve got to tell you something,” She mumbled, and Draco noticed the jealousy in his stomach recede a little as he watched her curiously as well. She looked… very frightened, actually. It almost made him feel bad for instantly hating her. Almost.
“C’mon now,” he said, waving a hand, “Tell us. What is it?”
She seemed to be chewing on her tongue, trying to find the words.
“What?” asked Weasley and she opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
“If you’ve finished eating,” Weaslette jumped in her seat as Prefect Weasley stepped up, rubbing his forehead, looking exhausted. “I’ll take that seat, Ginny. I’m starving, I’ve only just come off patrol duty.”
Weaslette took one look at Prefect Weasley and scampered away, still looking terrified. Her brother sat down in her place with a long sigh.
“Percy!” gasped Weasley angrily. “She was just about to tell us something important!”
The Prefect choked on his mug of tea, coming up coughing harshly.
“What sort of thing?” he asked, not at all casually.
“Dunno,” Weasley shrugged, “But it felt important. Maybe she saw something odd. Maybe it had something to do with -”
“Oh - that - that’s nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets,” said the Prefect, and Draco frowned at him, unimpressed and unconvinced.
“How do you know?” Weasley asked, raising his eyebrows.
“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 -”
Draco smirked as he met Weasley’s eyes across the table, and the redhead broke out into a grin as he regarded his brother. “What were you doing, Percy? Go on, tell us, we won’t laugh.” He was lying of course, and the Prefect caught this a mile away, scowling, effectively ending the conversation.
-*-*-*-
For once, Lockhart got met with a cheerful set of faces as he led them to History of Magic at noon, who were so thrilled, they didn’t even seem to mind his boasting as much. Nor did Draco find even a tiny bit of him dashing; his hair and gotten quite lank over the weeks he’d spent patrolling into the night.
“Mark my words,” he told them as they turned a corner, “The first words out of those poor Petrified people’s mouths will be 'It was Hagrid. Frankly, I’m astounded that Professor McGonagall thinks all these security measures are necessary.”
“I agree, sir,” several people turned in surprise but, when Harry shot them a quick look, didn’t say anything, leaving Draco to yelp and Weasley to drop his books in surprise at his sudden appearance. As Lockhart turned to grin at him, letting a line of Hufflepuffs pass, Draco turned and saw that, from the corridor the Hufflepuffs came down, a line of Slytherins was walking. Harry must’ve snuck through in the mix of the crowd to join Draco and Weasley, which could only mean he had something planned.
“Thank you, Harry,” said Lockhart, not seeming to mind his sudden appearance, as daft as he was. “I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with, without walking students to classes and standing guard all night…”
“And especially you sir,” said Draco, plastering on a big fake smile. “You should be out in the field, not harbored down escorting us kids around.”
“That’s right,” said Weasley, nodding as he realized what Draco had. “Why don’t you leave us here, sir, we’ve only got one more corridor to go -”
“You know, Weasley, I think I will,” said Lockhart. “I really should go and prepare my next class -”
He turned and hurried off and Weasley’s fake smile dropped to a sneer. “Prepare his class…” he growled, “Gone to curl his hair, more like.”
They watched as the Gryffindors walked on ahead, and Harry opened his mouth, about to say something when -
“Potter! Weasley! Malfoy! What are you doing?” The three of them spun around to see McGonagall walking towards them, mouth in a thin tight line.
“We were - we were -” Weasley stammered and Draco looked, panicking, from Harry Slytherin robes to his Gryffindor ones, unable to work out an excuse. “We were going to - to go and see -”
“Hermione.” But, as always, Harry was ten steps ahead. Brilliant Harry… “We haven’t seen her for ages, Professor,” Harry continued, stepping on their feet to indicate he had a hold on this, though Draco of course trusted him completely with much more than a ‘feeling.’ “and we thought we’d sneak into the Hospital Wing, you know, and tell her the Mandrakes are nearly ready and, er, not to worry -”
McGonagall looked at them very strangely then, after a moment, in a choked voice said, “Of course.”
Merlin, she was crying. Harry made her bloody cry.
“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 Flitwick where you’ve gone, and I will inform Professor Binns Weasley, Malfoy. Tell Madam Pomfrey I have given my permission.”
They walked away, on sure whether to hurry jittery, hardly believing they’d gotten away with it, or walk calmly for the facade. As they turned a corner they heard professor McGonagall blow her nose and Draco quietly high fived Harry.
“That,” said Weasley, “was the best story you’ve ever come up with.”
Of course, it meant they had to go to Madam Pomfrey first, but then at last they’d be able to visit Hermione, even if it felt kind of worthless now knowing she’d be awake in twenty four hours. This became even more clear as they pulled up seats beside her, and realized that it was plainly impossible for her to know they were inches from her, whispering she’d be okay soon.
“Wonder if she did see the attacker, though?” Weasley wondered, a sad look on his face as he leaned closer to Hermione’s. “Because if he sneaked up on them all, no one’ll ever know…”
Harry did a sudden glance over his shoulder then nudged them, pointing at Hermione’s frozen hand. It was clenched, and they could see a piece of parchment scrunched up and tucked in it.
“Go on and get it out,” Weasley whispered, and shifted casually in his chair to block Harry from Madam Pomfrey’s view so that he could work at Hermione’s fingers, solid as stone, and try to pry the piece of parchment from them.
But after several tense minutes he pulled it out and spread it out on top of her legs, so that they could bend over to read from it.
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.
Beneath this, in Hermione’s clipped, clean scrawl, was written one word: pipes.
Draco blinked, and, as Harry spoke, found his own thoughts the same as his words. It was a basilisk. Of course it was a basilisk. The monster of Slytherin, house of snakes, was a giant snake.
“This is it,” Harry said, “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…”
“And you can’t spot it because it’s moving through the pipes!” Draco exclaimed.
Harry looked around at the curtained beds. “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 -”
Weasley’s jaw dropped. “And Mrs. Norris?” he whispered, fully immersed in Harry piecing this all together. Draco thought hard, then the two of them locked eyes.
“The water!” he exclaimed in unison with Harry.
“Of course,” Weasley beamed, “The floor from the bathroom! Mrs. Norris must’ve seen a reflection, same as the mirror.
“'…The crowing of the rooster… is fatal to it!’” Harry read aloud as he ran a hand down the page. “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!”
Weasley looked back at the ‘pipes’ line and grabbed Harry’s sleeve. “The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets!” he gasped in a hoarse voice. “What if it’s a bathroom? What if it’s in -”
“Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom,” said Harry.
“We have to talk to her,” Draco nodded, but with the excitement of all their realizations, they couldn’t think to move just yet, instead sitting them, breathing hard, soaking it all in.
“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.”
“What’re we going to do?” said Weasley, eyes flashing. “Should we go straight to McGonagall?”
“No,” Draco shook his head, shifting in his seat, thinking only of stepping the monster before his dad could get caught, “We should talk to -”
“No, Ron’s right,” Harry cut in, and jumped to his feet. “Let’s go to the staff room. She’ll be there in ten minutes. It’s nearly break.”
They ran off and Draco, with an exasperated sigh and one last look at Hermione, turned and ran after them, straight into the staff room. There they, light on their feet, hearts racing, couldn’t sit, instead pacing around and rubbing their hands together anxiously.
But ten minutes passed, and a good number after that, and nothing happened. So avid was their excitement that they didn’t even think for a moment something could be wrong, however, until echoing through the corridors sounded McGonagall’s voice, magnified.
“All students are to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please.”
Harry turned to stare at them, and all of them were clearly thinking the same thing.
“Not another attack?” Harry gasped. “Not now?”
“What’ll we do?” said Weasley, looking around the deserted staffroom as if it held the answers. “Go back to the dormitory?”
“No,” said Harry, glancing around as well. Draco did too, but he only saw the usual; tables and chairs, a fire, some shelves stacked with books, some flagged with the names of their different Professors…
“In here,” he wheeled around. Harry was walking over to an ugly wardrobe. “Let’s hear what it’s all about. Then we can tell them what we’ve found out.”
“What?” Draco exclaimed, blinking confusedly at the boys as they clambered in. “Why can’t we just tell them now -”
“Just get in, Draco, I can hear footsteps!”
With a high eye roll he climbed in and they shut the door slowly, pressed up against each other awkwardly.
Sure enough, a moment later the door slammed open and the boys opened the wardrobe a crack to see through. McGonagall strode in, a number of teachers following.
“It has happened,” she spun on the spot to tell the silent and concerned looking staff room. “A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself.”
Flitwick released a high pitched squeal. Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth. Snape gripped the back of his chair concernedly and asked, “How can you be sure?”
“The Heir of Slytherin,” said McGonagall, with the air of someone on their last leg of staying strong and calm, “left another message. Right underneath the first one. ‘Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.’”
Flitwick began to cry uncontrollably.
“Who is it?” asked Madam Hooch, sinking into a chair as if her legs had given out on her. “Which student?”
“Ginny Weasley.”
As Weasley sank down onto his own knees as best he could in the wardrobe, Draco felt his heart sink too. The jealous dragon melted away, leaving a puddle of pure guilt. After a year of hating her unreasonably, she was going to die, surely becoming the next Moaning Myrtle. And she probably did know something at breakfast, but Draco hadn’t cared enough to urge her forward…
“We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow,” said McGonagall gravely. “This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said…”
The door banged open, and Draco shifted in the wardrobe to see who it was, only to find Lockhart of all people striding in with a grin.
“So sorry - dozed off - what have I missed?” Draco was alarmed to see the sheer amount to hate in each teacher’s gaze. It was strangely unprofessional but, then again, this was the staff room, where they were supposed to be human, not teachers.
“Just the man,” Snape didn’t miss a beat, however, taking a step towards him. “The very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last.”
Lockhart turned quite pale.
“That’s right, Gilderoy,” said Sprout, stepping forward as well. “Weren’t you saying just last night that you’ve known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?”
“I - well, I -” Lockhart looked between the teachers, clearly alarmed and caught off guard.
“Yes, didn’t you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?” Flitwick took a step, if small, in comparison.
“D-did I? I don’t recall -”
“I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn’t had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested. Didn’t you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?” Snape sneered.
Lockhart looked around, wide eyed, at the face of his colleagues now much too close, as all had been walking towards him as if to push him forcefully from the room. He looked ready to run anyway, so it probably wasn’t even needed.
“I - I really never - you may have misunderstood -”
“We’ll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy,” McGonagall strode forwards, closing the gap between Snape and Sprout. “Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We’ll make sure everyone’s out of your way. You’ll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last.”
Draco was pleased, and a little relieved to find that at this point, all affections for his childhood hero were lost, replaced with a sad scared man intimidated by a room of angry teachers.
“V-very well,” he stuttered, his usual bravado on vacation (probably in Majorca). “I’ll - I’ll be in my office, getting - getting ready.”
As soon as the door closed McGonagall turned on her heel to face her colleagues once more, nostrils flaring.
“Right,” she said, “that’s got him out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories.”
The teachers left, Harry slowly pushed the door open, and the three of them stumbled out, falling into chairs and holding their heads in their hands. Only minutes ago they had been celebrating… And now this…
-*-*-*-
So subdued was the emotion in the castle, not one witch or wizard blinked an eye when Harry climbed into the Common Room. Instead, they listened carefully as Weasley told them, choking on his words, that Weasl - Ginny had been taken, and comforted him as best they could.
Prefect Weasley, looking grim, had hurried off to owl his parents, leaving Draco, Harry, Weasley, and the twins sitting in a corner. Nobody spoke.
Lee Jordan didn’t even point out this was the third attack on a Gryffindor; there wasn’t any point to theories anymore. They’d lost.
Slowly, people trekked upstairs early to pack, and some students wandered around sadly, touching random things in the Common Room, as if saying goodbye.
At sunset, the twins stood and left, leaving the three boys alone.
“She knew something,” said Weasley, almost immediately. “That’s why she was taken. It wasn’t some stupid thing about Percy at all. She’d found out something about the Chamber of Secrets. That must be why she was -” Weasley rubbed his eyes, surely to stop himself from crying in front of them. “I mean, she was a pureblood. There can’t be any other reason.”
Draco sank into his seat, suddenly finding the table very interesting as he thought about how it really didn't make any sense, but for the first time ever, he remembered his mother mentioning how his father wanted to get back at Mr. Weasley.
Those damn raids… His father was so petty he was willing to kill Ginny Weasley to get back at her father.
And he hadn’t been able to stop it, because he was just a kid, and had never felt smaller than he did now.
“D’you think there’s any chance at all she’s not - you know -”
Draco pushed himself out of his chair and paced around the table, rubbing his hands together anxiously. He couldn't let her die but… what could they do? The basilisk theory seemed like a fact, but their wild idea that Myrtle could be the key to solving this all was just that; wild.
“D’you know what?” Weasley stood as well, “I think we should go and see Lockhart. Tell him what we know. He’s going to try and get into the Chamber. We can tell him where we think it is, and tell him it’s a basilisk in there.”
Draco stopped in his pacing, looked at Harry and Weasley, and shrugged. “Let’s go,” he mumbled and, slumped with grief, they trudged out of the Common Room.
-*-*-*-
As they crept up to the door to Lockhart’s office, they slowed down and got more apprentice due to the strange noises coming from inside. Someone was moving, and frantically, causing a good deal of scrapes and thuds.
Harry knocked, and the three of them glanced at each other, confused, as they waited for a long moment of sudden silence for Lockhart to answer.
The door opened a crack, enough for one forget-me-not blue eye to poke through.
“Oh - Mr. Potter - Mr. Malfoy - Mr. Weasley -” Lockhart said, opening the door enough for them to see his face. “I’m rather busy at the moment - if you would be quick -”
“Professor, we’ve got some information for you,” said Harry, speaking as strongly as he could manage. “We think it’ll help you.”
“Er - well - it’s not terribly -” He looked between each of their scared faces uncomfortably then seemed to make up his mind. “I mean - well all right -”
They all entered, and the exact reason he was in such a hurry became evident in seconds; he was leaving. His office was stripped, his robes all packed, his photos in boxes and his books in stacks. Ginny was going to die soon or was already dead, and he was leaving.
“Are you going somewhere?” asked Harry accusingly.
“Er, well, yes,” said Lockhart as he rolled up a life size poster of himself that was tacked to the door. “Urgent call - unavoidable - got to go -”
“What about my sister?” Weasley demanded.
“Well, as to that - most unfortunate -” He persistently avoided their eyes, continuing in his packing. Draco’s hands tightened to fists at his sides as a wave of anger began to rise up in him. “No one regrets more than I -”
“You’re the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!” Harry yelled. “You can’t go now! Not with all the Dark stuff going on here!”
“Well - I must say - when I took the job - nothing in the job description -”
“You’re supposed to be a hero,” Draco glared down at his shoes so as not to explode looking into his arrogant face. “Look at your books, you save people, but now you’re -”
“Books can be misleading,” Lockhart said and Draco gritted his teeth to keep from screaming.
“You wrote them!” Harry shouted.
“My dear boy,” said Lockhart, daring to sound like a teacher lecturing a child now of all times. “Do use your common sense. My books wouldn’t have sold half as well if people didn’t think I’d done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He’d look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a harelip. I mean, come on -”
Draco let go of his palms, which had deep half crescent indents in them now, to slowly look up at his childhood hero.
Now, he only saw a lying crook.
“So you’ve just been taking credit for what a load of other people have done?” Harry demanded.
“Harry, Harry,” said Lockhart, shaking his head, as if the teacher was now upset with the student, the arrogant git. “It’s not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn’t remember doing it. If there’s one thing I pride myself on, it’s my Memory Charms. No, it’s been a lot of work, Harry. It’s not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog.”
He turned to his trunks and began locking them. “Let’s see. I think that’s everything -”
Harry and Weasley gasped and Lockhart let out a yelp but Draco ignored them. He had stomped forward, unable to take anymore of this, and now grabbed Lockhart by the back of his cloak and spun him around, pinning him to his desk.
“You’re a right foul git!” he yelled, “People trusted you, I trusted you! I looked up to you! Thought you were a great hero! Well, I guess you can never meet your heroes?” Lockhart was fumbling for his wand, so Draco ripped it out of his hand easily, because he really was a bumbling buffoon, and probably had the strength of a child.
“Wands, eh?” He said, twirling the long stick in his hand, “An extension of the wizard himself, our greatest weapons, but,” he pressed it against the desk and held it by the ends, “boy howdydoo they break like fucking TWIGS!”
With that he used strength he didn’t even know he had to snap the thing in half, and Lockhart gave a little weak whimper of surprise. He took one half of the wand, its dragon heartstring hanging out of the stick, and waved it in his terrified face.
“I’ve had a really bad year, and all I want is for this Chamber of Secrets nightmare to end, so unless you want me to throw you in the back of a car and send you into the Forbidden Forest to be devoured by very hungry Acromantula, you’re going to swallow your arrogant pride and come with us, and we’re going to save Ginny Weasley, even if we die trying.”
Lockhart looked at him, pale and wide eyed, and squeaked out weakly, “What d’you want me to do? I don’t know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There’s nothing I can do.”
“No need to worry about that, Gilderoy,” Draco said, yanking him off the desk by the collar of his robes and turning him around, pointing his very intact wand at his back, “Just follow our lead.”
He nodded to Harry and Weasley, who were staring at him, gobsmacked, and they shut their mouths and nodded, pulling out their own wands and opening the door, forcing Lockhart to leave with three wands pointed at him.
“What was that?” Harry whispered to Draco once they were in the hallway, walking beside him, keeping Weasley in front of Lockhart.
“Comeuppance,” Draco huffed, “A school year in the making.”
Harry smirked and nudged him with his shoulder. “Glad you finally came around.”
“Thanks,” Draco looked to the side, trying to hide the blushing in his cheeks.
They reached the bathroom, pushing Lockhart inside first, smirking as he shivered.
Myrtle was perched on the tank of her usual toilet.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, rising with interest when she spotted Draco, “What do you want this time?”
Harry looked to Draco, trusting him to speak to her, and he smiled charmingly, stepping forwards. “Pardon us, Myrtle, but we’ve got a little problem on our hands, and we think you can help us. But you’ll have to tell us how you died.”
She didn’t seem offended at all, however, in fact she grinned widely, as if flattered. “Ooooh, it was dreadful,” she said. “It happened right here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I’d hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then -” Myrtle looked like someone about to reveal the punchline of a campfire story, “I died.”
“How?” Harry pressed.
“No idea,” Myrtle said quietly, “I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away…” She gave Harry a dreamy smile, “And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she’d ever laughed at my glasses.”
“Where exactly did you see the eyes?” asked Harry.
“Somewhere there,” said Myrtle, and gestured to the sink in front of her toilet.
Glancing at each other with wide eyes, the boys ran towards the sink, leaving Lockhart to cower against a wall.
But it was just an ordinary sink, and as they examined every inch of it, they saw as much. The pipes were even quite small; too small for a basilisk.
“Look,” Draco looked up and saw what Harry was pointing to; a tiny snake scratched on the side of one of the taps.
“Harry,” whispered Weasley, “Say something. Something in Parseltongue.”
“But -” Harry looked conflicted and confused, and Draco recalled he didn’t know when he was doing it, but then, he stared hard at the tiny snake and, after a moment… “Open up.”
Draco clicked his tongue and Weasley shook his head. “English,” they said and Harry sighed. Again, he screwed up his eyes, concentrating, and Draco looked away, so as not to get distracted by how cute he looked thinking so hard. But, after a moment, he heard someone hissing and turned to see Harry had done it.
The tap glowed bright, brilliantly white bright, and began to spin, and then the sink lowered. Sank into a sudden hole in the ground and out of sight. The hole was a pipe, a wide pipe, certainly big enough for a basilisk to escape from.
“You’d think the staff would notice the pipes in this place are a little too big,” Draco drawled as they gazed down into the dark depths.
“I’m going down there,” said Harry, sounding as foolhardy as always.
“I am too,” Draco nodded, feeling his own heart swell, a sudden rush of courage flooding his veins. After all, at this point, they all had nothing left to lose.
“Me too,” said Weasley.
A long pause, as the three of them slowly turned to face Lockhart, who had only the shadow of his old self on his terrified features now.
“Well, you hardly seem to need me,” he said, beginning to back away towards the door, “I’ll just -”
He reached the doorknob and the three of them raised their wands, pointed them at his perfect little face.
“You can go first,” Weasley snared.
“Unless you want Witch Weekly’s Most Toothless Smile Award,” Draco said with a smirk, prodding him as he slowly approached the pipe, shivering.
“Boys,” he said feebly, “boys, what good will it do?”
Harry jabbed him harder with his wand and Lockhart resigned himself to his fate, lowering to drop his legs into the pipe.
“I really don't think -” Weasley shoved him hard and he fell out of sight, screaming.
Harry immediately followed, sliding down the pipe and into the dark as well.
“Fare thee well, Myrtle,” Draco nodded to the ghost, who gave him a small wave, then turned and dropped down the pipe as well.
It was like a sort of slide, which he moved very fast down due to the slimy film around it. It was pitch black, so he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face and, filled with resolve to save Ginny, and used to a deep fall after last year, he didn’t scream.
Was he absolutely terrified? Yes, but he knew what he had to do; stop his father from winning, whatever it took. He’d meant what he said to Lockhart.
After a good long while the pipe curved to level out, and he shot out of the end, landing on damp floor with a wet thud.
Lockhart was on his feet a few ways away, white faced and covered in slime, and Harry was standing beside him, holding out his hand.
Draco looked at it, felt his cheeks burn and scrambled away, muttering a ‘Thanks, anyway’ as Weasley landed where he’d been seconds ago.
“We must be miles under the school,” said Harry, his voice echoing, “Below the dungeons, at least.”
“Under the lake, probably,” said Weasley.
“Makes sense,” Harry nodded, “The Slytherin Common Room is in the lake.”
The four of them turned and stared at the dark, dark, darkness down the path ahead. Their only path.
“Lumos,” Harry muttered, holding up his wand. Draco did the same. “C’mon.”
They walked off, their footsteps making slapping noises as they trudged through the wet floor. The tunnel was dark and wide, and with each step Draco got more scared, wanted to turn back, but thought of Ginny Weasley, and his father, and how he’d already practically failed this year. This was his last chance to make up for it.
“Remember,” Harry spoke quietly, as if scared they’d be heard, even though it was still and quiet, no sign of life in sight. “Any sign of movement, close your eyes right away…”
After a minute of walking, Draco was startled by a crunch and whipped his wand around, only to see Weasley had stepped on a rat skeleton. In fact, the entire floor ahead of them was littered with small animal bones.
Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever…
Draco screwed up his mouth in resolve and forced his feet to keep moving to follow Harry.
“Harry - there’s something up there -” Weasley grabbed Harry’s shoulder, looked scared.
They stopped moving and saw, in their wandlight, the dim outline of something huge, curving, coiling, lying across the tunnel.
“Maybe it’s asleep,” Harry breathed, for it wasn’t moving, still and silent.
Lockhart had pressed his hands over his eyes, and Draco had half a mind to call him a coward but if this was the basilisk -
He began squinting his eyes, ready to close them at the first sign of movement.
Harry did the same, ever so slowly, edging forwards to shine more light across the thing.
There would be no need to worry about movement, as it was a giant snake skin, bright green, and the creature it came from would’ve had to have been at least twenty feet long, but coiled as it was, probably a lot more.
“Blimey,” Weasley breathed.
There was the sound of robes and a clatter of bones. The boys turned around to see Lockhart had collapsed on the floor. Weasley rolled his eyes and walked over, pointing his wand at him. “Get up,” he said sharply.
Lockhart did, diving for Weasley and knocked him to the ground. Harry and Draco tried to move forwards but Lockhart had stood already, with Weasley pinned to the floor, his own wand raised and pointing at them all, his smile back on his face, gleaming in Harry and Draco’s wand light. But he didn’t look handsome still, no, no, he looked mad.
“The adventure ends here, boys!” he declared, “I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and that you two tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body - say goodbye to your memories!”
He raised the wand high over his head, and Draco watched as a bit of the Spellotape holding it together peeled back.
“WAIT -”
“Obliviate!”
The wand exploded and Draco was thrown backwards from the force, he and Harry slipping on the snakeskin and rolling out of the way of stone chunks of the ceiling coming down hard onto the tunnel floor. It was as if a bomb had exploded, caving in the tunnel and leaving a solid wall of broken rock where Lockhart and Weasley had just stood, and a great deal of powdery dust in Draco’s lungs.
“Ron!” Harry shouted as Draco coughed and coughed, struggling to his feet. “Are you okay? Ron!”
“I’m here!” called out Weasley’s voice, and Draco and Harry pressed against the rock wall to hear more clearly, Draco grabbing a rock and trying to pull it away. “I’m okay - this git’s not, though - he got blasted by the wand -”
A thud and a loud “ow!” told them Weasley had given Lockhart a well deserved kick in the shins.
“What now?” Weasley sounded desperate, and Draco felt the same as he fell back from pulling on the rock and winced; it had cut straight across his palm, and now he was bleeding. Fantastic.
Harry turned at the sound of his cry but Draco waved a hand, definitely not needing the blushing and fluttering he’d get in this situation if Harry nursed him, instead tearing off a piece of his own robe sleeve to tie around his palm. After he finished tying the knot Harry answered Weasley.
“Wait there,” he called, “Wait with Lockhart. Draco and I’ll go on… If we’re not back in an hour…”
A pause, Draco scrambled to his feet and poked through the small hole his pulling on that rock and formed. “We will be. We’ll bring Ginny home, I promise.”
Harry stared at him with wide eyes, and he knew he shouldn’t be promising such things, but he was. He’d made up his mind; they were going to do this, no matter what.
“I’ll try and shift some of this rock,” said Weasley, clearly not knowing how to respond to that, “So you can - can get back through. And… guys -”
“See you in a bit,” said Harry, and Draco turned, horrified, to hear his voice shaking. He turned and set off, but Draco suddenly felt a new rush of fear flood through him as he stumbled to his feet to follow Harry. If he was scared… he was scared he wasn’t going to make it back, he realized, and it was Draco’s fault.
He slipped on the slime and fell to his knees, struggling back onto his feet to keep on trudging. He had to keep moving…
You should’ve told him. This is all your fault. Why didn’t you tell anyone? You selfish git -
Draco slipped again but didn’t get back up, instead kneeling with his hands pressed flat against the slimy stone, staring at the darkness of it and feeling enveloped in it. Feeling he deserved that.
“Draco?”
“I’m so sorry,” he croaked, feeling hot tears slip down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry… I knew, this whole time, and I did nothing. She’s going to die and it’s all my fault…”
“Draco, please stop crying,” Harry, sweet, perfect Harry, had knelt down beside him and was holding his shoulders, and when he raised his head he saw he looked only concerned. He didn’t -
“You don’t understand!” Draco gasped, “It’s all my fault!” He took in a deep shuddering breath then finally said what he’d been itching to say for months. What had been worrying at his very core, eating away his heart.
“My dad,” he panted through endless hot tears Harry was using his robes sleeve to wipe away with a tight, concerned frown, “My dad’s doing all of this. He’s working with the Heir of Slytherin. He wanted a… a perfect Hogwarts for You-Know-Who to return to. A Muggle-born free school, and he’s going to kill Ginny to do it. I knew he wanted her dead too. I knew he hated the Weasleys, but I did nothing, Harry. I knew about the Chamber of Secrets all year… and I did nothing…”
He buried his face in his hands, sobbing, and moving away from Harry. Not because he was blushing or feeling fluttery inside, but because he simply didn’t deserve his comfort.
“Ginny’s going to die, and all I’ve done is hurt her this year.”
He cried for his family, he cried for the petrified students, cat, and ghost, and his best friend Hermione. He cried for Ginny Weasley, he cried for Hagrid, away in Azkaban, and he cried for the hand of cards life had dealt him.
“I don’t deserve this,” he clawed uselessly at the mucky Gryffindor patch on his slimy robes, “And I don’t deserve you,” he looked into Harry’s eyes, and instantly slumped.
Harry’s wide, green eyes, full of life and care, that anyone could fall head over heels for, showed no signs of hatred to him at all.
“How can you sit there?!” Draco yelled at him, still crying, “How can you not hate me?”
“Why would I hate you, Draco?” asked Harry, sounding genuinely, bizarrely confused. “You’re my friend,” he reached out his arms again, pulling him into an awkward, teary hug, “And you did try to stop this. We’ve been trying all year. But there was nothing we could’ve done.” He pulled away, looking him strongly in the eyes.
“You are not responsible for your father’s actions,” he said, speaking slowly and strongly as if driving his words into Draco’s head, “Okay? You aren’t. He may be an evil maniac who started all of this, but you know what?” He stood up, holding out his hand, and giving Draco his stupid, stupid, unabashedly attractive smile. “You’ll be the Gryffindor who finishes it.”
Draco looked from the dark hand to Harry’s brilliant green eyes for a long moment.
Then, silently, he took his hand, and let him help him to his feet, jerkily letting go and rubbing his sweaty palm on his cloak.
The two gave each other a sniff nod, and walked on, silently. After several bends and turns through the long dark tunnel, they finally reached a solid wall, on which two stone carved serpents were entwined, great big glinting emeralds the color of Harry’s own eyes set in theirs.
Harry stepped ahead, and without a long wait this time, only a clearing of his throat, he opened his mouth and hissed something out in cold, creepy Parseltongue.
The serpents parted, the wall cracked open in two halves that slid smoothly out of sight.
Harry was shaking head to foot. Draco stepped up beside him, and together, they walked on forwards into the Chamber of Secrets.