Chapter Eight: The Legend of the Chamber

Silence fell immediately among the corridor as everyone gaped at the three second years standing alone, everyone reading the horrible message on the wall. Nobody moved or said a thing, standing in stunned and horrified silence.

And then a voice shouted through the quiet, “‘Enemies of the heir, beware’? That’s you, Mudbloods!” It was Theodore Nott, one of the Slytherins in Hari’s year, earning several gasps from most of the others. He had pushed through to the front of the crowd with a few of his other Slytherin friends, all of whom seemed to be of the few that found this situation entertaining.

Hari saw Hermione standing in the crowd, looking back and forth between the message on the wall and her friends, looking fearful. Beside her were Pansy and Millicent looking equally horrified.

“What’s going on here? Why is everyone standing in the corridor?”

Argus Filch appeared, pushing through the crowd and scowling. When he saw the message on the wall and his cat hanging immobile from a torch, frozen stiff, his face contorted and he turned on Hari, Draco and Ron. “You’ve killed my cat! Why, you three will pay for this!” he roared, shaking with anger. Hari grabbed Ron and Draco’s wrists defensively, stepping in front of them.

“Argus, please step aside from these students.”

Hari breathed out a sigh at the familiar voice of Dumbledore. He parted the crowd easily, followed by several other teachers. Hari saw Minerva behind him and held his breath as she read the message on the wall, glanced at the cat and then looked at Hari. He could tell she was struggling to hold in her reaction. Dumbledore turned to the trio still standing frozen in front of the message on the wall and said, “If you three could please follow me. And Argus as well, please.”

Lockhart, of course, offered his office for them to visit as it was closest and Hari followed the staff members and his friends through the staring crowd. They stepped inside Lockhart’s office and Hari spotted a few of the Lockharts in the paintings jumping out of frame with their hair in rollers. Draco, Hari and Ron huddled in the corner together as Dumbledore placed the frozen Mrs. Norris on top of the desk and Minerva, Snape and Dumbledore inspected her while Lockhart talked about how he could have saved her from dying. Filch, meanwhile, was sitting in a chair sobbing.

“—and if only I had been there, then I could have saved her from dying,” Lockhart was saying much too happily as Hari shared eye rolls with his friends.

“She is not dead, Gilderoy,” said Dumbledore, standing up straight. Filch sat up in his chair, eyes wide. “She is just petrified. By how, I do not know. But she is alive.”

“Oh, yes. My thoughts exactly,” Lockhart said, not noticing the grim looks from the other teachers.

Filch turned towards Hari. “You’ve petrified my cat! I demand punishment!” he cried, shaking his fist in the air. Hari shuffled closer to Ron, eyes wide. “You must pay for this! They must!”

Minerva sighed, stepping towards Filch. “Calm yourself, Argus. They are twelve years old! I should hardly expect any of them to be capable of petrifying a cat like this!” she said, glaring pointedly at Filch.

“But—but he saw my letter! My Kwikspell letter!” Filch sputtered, red in the face and pointing directly at Hari’s face. “He knows I’m a… I’m a Squib… He’s done this just to spite me, I tell you!” He continued to point at Hari with a trembling hand, though it faltered at his comment about being a Squib.

Ron and Draco both snickered under their breaths, but silenced at the fierce looks both Snape and Minerva shot their way. Hari ignored them and brushed Filch’s accusatory finger out of his face, scowling defensively.

“I never touched that cat!” Hari blurted, shying away at the looks everyone in the room was giving him. “I don’t care if you’re a Squib or not and I didn’t Petrify her!” He scowled at Filch again. “And neither did Ron or Draco,” he added, glancing sideways at them.

Professor Snape cleared his throat, turning all heads away from Hari to look at him. “If I may, Headmaster,” he said slowly, eyeing the three twelve year olds still huddled together uncomfortably, “Perhaps they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time? As Minerva has pointed out, I hardly presume any of them to be capable of such highly advanced and Dark magic as this.” He glanced at Dumbledore with an unreadable expression, his dark eyes staring intensely at the older man.

“As it stands,” continued Professor Snape, “we do have some… concerning and suspicious circumstances. Why exactly were you three not at the feast and instead in a corridor nowhere near anywhere of value?”

“I had a Quidditch practice that ran long and I got soaked, so I was getting a shower and Ron and Draco waited for me,” said Hari as Draco and Ron nodded in agreement. “But by the time we were coming back, the feast ended.”

“But the other students from the Gryffindor Quidditch team were all at the feast. Why were you particularly slow getting ready?” Professor Snape asked, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. Hari shifted uncomfortably. He had always felt as though Professor Snape could read his mind, feeling strangely like he was being pulled apart by those sharp dark eyes.

Hari swallowed, rolling his shoulders back. “Well, when I was coming back, Filch dragged me to his office to punish me for making a mess of the entrance to the school,” he explained, glancing at Filch challengingly.

“Is this true, Argus?” Dumbledore asked the caretaker.

“Well, it was going to be more work for me cleaning up after him and his muck! The students deserve to be held responsible for the filth they give me to clean up!” Filch sneered at Hari, who simply stared back, refusing to back down.

“Potter, were you getting mud all over the castle when you were, as you said, ‘dragged’ to Argus Filch’s office?” Professor Snape asked, eyes still boring into Hari. He could tell Professor Snape wasn’t fully buying their story, but didn’t hear much accusation in his tone, regardless.

He shook his head. “No, sir. I was just entering and I was going to try to wipe my feet so that I didn’t make as much mess, but then Filch took me to his office instead.”

Silence fell once Hari finished explaining how Filch had taken Hari to his office. He almost expected them to let him and his friends leave, but then Dumbledore turned to Filch again and asked him, “How soon before the feast did you let Hari leave your office, Argus?”

“About ten minutes, Headmaster.”

“Then why,” asked Professor Snape, “did you take so long to get to dinner? And what exactly were you doing in a corridor two floors above the Great Hall?”

At this, Hari exchanged looks with Ron and Draco. They might have believed he wasn’t crazy because he was hearing voices, but he didn’t think the other teachers would be too happy to hear that Hari was hearing whispers in the walls that only he seemed to hear. He also feared that his original suspicions that he was crazy would simply become more real if he told the truth right now.

“We thought it would be shorter to get that way,” said Hari quietly. He wouldn’t believe himself if he heard it either.

“I still say he should be punished,” added Filch nastily, “He’s hiding something and he made a mess of the school. Maybe if you took away his Quidditch privileges, he’ll be a bit more honest about what happened to my cat!”

“Now, really, Argus,” protested Minerva sharply, “I hardly think that is necessary. Quidditch has nothing to do with this situation and perhaps if you didn’t take him up to your office on the other side of the building, Hari wouldn’t have continued to make a mess of the castle, as you insist. There is absolutely no evidence that Hari or any of these boys have done anything wrong.” She gave Hari a look from behind her spectacles, light blue eyes softening slightly.

Dumbledore gave Hari a searching look. Just like Professor Snape, Dumbledore’s bright blue stare also had an uncomfortable x-ray feeling when he looked at Harry.

“Innocent until proven guilty,” he said, smiling.

Minerva looked satisfied and even Professor Snape looked assuaged, if a little suspicious still. But Filch looked absolutely furious still.

“My cat has been petrified!” he shouted, “I demand to see some punishment!”

“She can and will be cured, Argus,” said Dumbledore calmly, “There is a potion made with Mandrakes, which I believe Professor Sprout has procured recently, which will be able to revive Mrs. Norris back to her regular state.”

Lockhart, who had been combing his hair in a small handheld mirror for the majority of the conversation, butted in, “Excellent! I’m an expert at the Restorative Mandrake Potion! I should be able to—”

“Excuse me, Gilderoy,” Professor Snape interrupted, eyes flashing venomously, “But I believe that Professor Sprout and myself, as the potions master of this school, are perfectly capable of making the potion without you.”

Minerva, clearly sensing the tension rising between the teachers in the room, glanced momentarily at Dumbledore before turning to Hari, Ron and Draco. “You three may go,” she said quietly, moving to open the door for them and letting them out into the corridor with a nod.

They made their way quickly away from Lockhart’s office, though Hari pulled Draco and Ron into an empty classroom a few floors above, shutting the door behind them.

“That was a load of rubbish,” Draco said as soon as the door shut, hopping up onto a desk and dangling his legs back and forth.

“You don’t think I should have told them about the voice, do you?” Hari asked anxiously, pacing across the classroom and chewing on one of his thumbnails.

Ron shook his head. “Definitely not. Hearing voices isn’t exactly regarded very well, is it?” he replied. Draco gave Ron a sharp look, making his ears burn scarlet.

“I’m not crazy, I swear. I know it’s not good, but I swear I wasn’t just hearing things,” insisted Hari. “I don’t know why you guys didn’t hear it, but I know I heard something real. You’ve got to believe me.” He stopped walking, pleading with his friends with his eyes.

“We do, Har. Of course we do.” Draco hopped off his desk and crossed over to Hari, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and looking sincerely at him. His light grey eyes soothed Hari as he looked back into them, grey meeting green.

“I believe you, too,” added Ron quickly, “But it is a little weird.”

Hari huffed, pulling away from Draco to continue his pacing. “I know it’s weird, thanks,” he said defensively. “But I know what I heard. And what was all that—that bullshit about the Chamber of Secrets? Or the ‘enemies of the heir’? What did that even mean?”

Draco shook his head. “I don’t even want to begin thinking about what it means. Maybe we should just deal with it in the morning? It’s late.”

The trio made their way back to the common room together in silence. Hari was thankful no one else was there and everyone else in their dormitory was already fast asleep. He didn’t think he wanted to deal with any more stares yet.

¤¤¤

The days following Mrs. Norris’ attack were pure torture for Hari. The school could talk of little else than the attack and the Chamber of Secrets and many people were staring at Hari like he was a particularly gross exhibit in a zoo. Draco and Ron, as well, were getting their own fair share of stares and mutters from people of all houses. People were convinced that the three of them had caused the attack, particularly accusing Ron and Draco of being blood purists. No one could go past the corridor where the attack happened either without being shouted at by Filch, who was making it his life’s mission to catch anyone else in the act, as if they would return to the scene of the crime for a second attempt.

Draco arrived one evening a few days into November, shaking with furious tears after being accused by a group of fourth year Ravenclaws of being ‘a pure-blood enthusiast just like his father’. It took a good half hour for him to calm down after ranting about it to his friends in the common room.

Ginny Weasley also seemed particularly upset about Mrs. Norris. She was little comforted by Ron’s insistence that the world was better off without the cat roaming the corridors, calling her owner to catch them up to no good at every moment. This had only served in making her more upset, in fact, earning glares from his other siblings after Ginny stormed off to her dormitory in tears.

As usual when strange things happened, Hermione was spending much of her free time up in the library researching, often dragging Draco along with her. She, of course, believed them when they recounted the whole story to her at breakfast the morning after the attack, insisting that she knew none of them were capable or cruel enough to do such a thing. Hermione was completely incoaxable out of her books, checking out piles and piles of books and returning from the library barely before curfew.

One afternoon, Hari and Ron were trying to finish the last of their two foot long essay for History of Magic while Draco searched the shelves for books about the origin of mandrakes for Herbology class. Hermione, as usual, was nowhere to be found, somewhere in the depths of the library.

“I don’t believe it. It’s still five inches too short…” said Ron, measuring his scroll with a tape measure. “Draco has over two and a half feet and Hermione’s is a good four feet. It isn’t fair how smart they are.”

“Ron, it has nothing to do with intelligence and you know that,” said Draco’s voice from behind, returning with a small stack of books that he dropped onto the table with a bang. “Hermione and I simply put effort into our work.”

Hari rolled his eyes and pulled the tape measure from Ron’s hands. “Speaking of Hermione, where is she?” he asked, measuring out his essay. He was thankful to see that it was exactly two feet and an inch long, letting it roll up to put inside his bag.

“Looking for another book, as usual,” Draco replied, sighing. “Speaking of which, I just ran into Justin Finch-Fletchley. I’ve never seen someone abandon their books so fast,” he added seriously, lowering his voice.

“Oh, yeah. He’s been giving me some weird looks, too. I tried to say hello to him during Herbology yesterday and he accidentally shattered a flower pot and moved to the other side of the greenhouse,” said Hari with a frown.

“I dunno why either of you care so much,” said Ron, measuring his essay once again as if it would have magically grown longer in the last minute of inaction. “He’s a bit of an idiot. All that junk about Lockhart’s success and—”

He was cut off by Hermione’s sudden reappearance, dropping into the seat beside Draco with a heavy sigh. She looked frazzled and irritable, her dark eyebrows furrowed and her curly hair falling into her face.

“Every single copy of Hogwarts: A History has been checked out of the library and the waiting list is two weeks,” she complained, scowling and dropping her head onto Draco’s shoulder. “I forgot to pack my own copy before I went to stay with Ron and now I can’t read it.”

“Why do you need to read it? Haven’t you read it about a hundred times now?” asked Hari, slightly amused.

“Well, for the same reason everyone else has checked them out of the library,” said Hermione irritably. “Everyone wants to read about the Chamber of Secrets.”

“You can borrow my copy that Remus got me, if you like. It’s got my dad’s scribblings on it, but it’s still legible and stuff,” Hari offered.

Hermione brightened, lifting her head off Draco's shoulder. “Oh, really? That’s wonderful! Thank you so much, Hari,” she replied cheerfully.

“Why d’you need to read about the Chamber of Secrets?” asked Ron, rolling up his essay to put away, evidently giving up on writing any further.

“Because of the writing on the wall, obviously. I can’t remember it and I can’t find the story anywhere else…”

The bell overhead rang to signal their next class, Transfiguration and the four of them packed away their things and made their way there.

“Why don’t we ask Minerva if she knows. She knows just about everything there is to know about Hogwarts,” Hari suggested as they followed the crowd of students making their way to their different classes.

“That might be a good idea, actually,” said Hermione.

They reached the class just as Minerva was coming around the corridor, gesturing to the students waiting outside the classroom to get inside. Hari stopped her before she could enter. “Er, sorry. Hermione wanted to ask you something,” he said quietly.

Minerva shooed them inside and to their seats. As she walked down the aisle between the desks and the students got their stuff out and sat at their desks, she said, “What was it you wanted to ask, then, Miss Granger?” She stopped in front of their table, which was at the very front of the room.

“Ma’am, Hari was just saying that I should ask you,” she said as others in the class watched curiously, “about whether you knew about the legend of the Chamber of Secrets?” The room seemed to freeze suddenly at her question and everyone turned to stare up at Minerva.

“My subject is Transfiguration, Miss Granger,” replied Minerva, eyeing Hari. He shuffled lower in his seat. “If you have any relevant questions to the task of turning animals into a water goblet, as that is today’s topic, I will be happy to answer those. But as the Chamber of Secrets does not fall under that category, I suggest you ask me that after class.”

“But Min—Professor, we all want to know about the Chamber of Secrets, don’t we? And wouldn’t it be better if we heard it from someone knowledgeable about the school than from rumours going around?” chimed in Hari, hoping to appease Minerva's affection even slightly. He knew it was likely futile, as she tended to avoid favouritism as much as she could, but he figured it was worth a try if it meant they could get some answers.

Minerva gave Hari a knowing glance, seeing right through his attempts. She sighed. “Fine. I will answer your questions regarding the Chamber of Secrets for the first ten minutes of class and then we will be moving onto the task at hand, is that a deal?” she asked, turning her attention to the rest of the eagerly watching class as well. There was a murmur of general affirmation and she moved towards her desk. “Very well. Ask away.”

Dean raised a tentative hand in the air and Minerva nodded to him. “What exactly is the legend of the Chamber of Secrets, Professor? Everyone’s been talking about it, but I don’t know what it actually is.”

Minerva went on to explain to the class the entire story about the rivalry between Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor, the alleged chamber that Slytherin hid somewhere in the school after he was left no choice but to flee from the school. She went on to explain about how there was rumoured to be ‘horrors within’ the Chamber, which only a true heir of Slytherin would be able to unleash upon their enemies.

Lavender Brown, a pretty girl with dark hair in tight twists and a lace choker around her neck, raised her hand as well. “Professor, what do you mean by the ‘horrors within?’” she asked, nervously twisting her finger around one of the twists in her hair.

“There is believed to be a sort of monster inside the chamber that only the heir will be able to control,” replied Minerva. At the alarmed looks on her students’ faces, she continued, “Of course, as that is likely impossible for only one person to be able to control something, I doubt that there is any sort of creature inside this school that you need to worry about.”

“When that writing mentioned ‘enemies of the heir’, was that referring to Muggleborns?” asked Seamus, earning a glare for talking out of turn.

“Yes, Finnigan, I believe it would be. As many sources have stated, the disagreement between Slytherin and Gryffindor was caused by Slytherin’s want to be selective about which students were permitted to learn at Hogwarts,” she explained.

Parvati, sitting beside Lavender Brown, raised her hand as well. “Why would someone write that message on the wall if they hadn’t opened the Chamber of Secrets? And surely Dark magic would be needed to open it, like the kind that made Filch’s cat like that, so that’s why no one’s found it yet.” She glanced nervously at Hari, Ron and Draco at the front and Hari had to elbow Ron in the side to keep him from glaring back at her.

Minerva sighed, adjusting her large pointy black hat on top of her grey hair. “Certainly, I see your point, Miss Patil,” she replied calmly but stiffly, “But even if a wizard or witch chooses not to use Dark magic, that does not mean they cannot perform it themselves. For example, I am sure Professor Dumbledore would have found it himself if the Chamber of Secrets really existed.”

“But to be Slytherin’s heir, you’d have to be related to him, wouldn’t you? Suppose Dumbledore can’t find it either if he’s not related to him,” suggested Draco. A few whispers among the students erupted at his statement and Draco shifted uncomfortably. Hari subtly knocked his shoulder into Draco’s, turning to glare at the students whispering in their directions.

Minerva regarded the students whispering, eyes falling onto Draco looking uncomfortable and cleared her throat. “That will do, now,” she said, causing silence to fall immediately, “Your ten minutes are now up. As I have said, there is no need to worry about the Chamber of Secrets, I promise you that much. If there were any such chambers, I can assure you that the staff are fully equipped to handle it.” She turned towards her chalkboard and lifted up a piece of white chalk. “Now, if you could all take out your quills, I would like to talk about turning animals into goblets, if you please.”

Within a minute, the class fell into silence once more as Minerva explained the spell and their quills rapidly scratched notes as if nothing had happened.