HP & The Chamber of Secrets

Harry

Harry woke up on Sunday morning to find the hospital wing blazing with winter sunlight and his head all bandaged. He sat up quickly and looked over at Colin's bed, but it had been blocked from view by high curtains. Charles was already up and clumsily feeding himself porridge lefthanded. Seeing that Harry was awake, Charles grinned in relief, and Madam Pomfrey came bustling over with a breakfast tray and then began waving a wand over his head.

"All in order," she said as he clumsily fed himself porridge lefthanded. "When you've finished eating, you may leave. But if you feel any wooziness or nausea, you are to come to me immediately."

Harry dressed as quickly as he could and hurried off to look for his friends, desperate to tell them about Colin and Dobby. Charles, meanwhile, left for Gryffindor Tower. He found them, as expected, in the courtyard.

"Hey!" Jéricho was the first to spot him.

"How's your head?" Adrian squinted.

"Great." Harry hurriedly told them about the previous night. Sera hummed. "So, what're you gonna do, then?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess I do have a plan about Dobby, but I won't say it now. By the way, d'you guys know anything about when the Chamber was last opened?"

"Fifty years ago." Adrian instantly answered. "Draco was parading about in the common room, saying it was opened fifty years ago, and that a muggleborn had died."

Sera gasped. "That's horrible!"

"And that's not it." Jéricho glumly added. "I think it could be Moaning Myrtle."

Cedric blew a rasburry. "Figures."

"Slightly off-topic," Harry said in an effort to change the topic, "But how's the project coming along?"

Jéricho said, "We were thinking about a kind of advanced map with built-in communication features, and the map could be zoomed and made realistic."

"And if any name on the map is tapped, it shows the person's details," Sera added.

Cedric said, "Oh, and the map won't strictly be of Hogwarts. We can change locations at will."

"Not of whole bloody London, of course," Adrian said, "But of some specific places. Like Gringotts and the Ministry."

Harry nodded. "That sounds great. Maybe add something like... maybe make a spell or something, which, if put on a person, will show us their rough location on the map if we so wish? Like a tracking charm connected to a command and our map?"

Sera's eyes lit up. "That's brilliant." 

"Can you expand on the communication bit?" Harry asked.

"Well," Jéricho said, "It will be only for people signed in to it - the Prowlers, specifically - and we can communicate. How, we've not figured out yet."

"Now," Adrian said, "Cedric is the best artist, and I am good at remembering locations and all, so we both can be responsible for the designs."

Sera nodded, "I'll take care of the charms."

"I'll think up the communication bit and see what I can do," Jéricho said.

Harry nodded. "That's fine. I can create the tracking spell, I'm good at that."

That was true. He had created two spells in his four years at school; one to make objects flexible and elastic-like and bend and mould them in whatever shape one liked, and one to make humans wholly inflate, but without injuring them in the process at all. Like a better version of Engorgio.

He had tested the latter on students he didn't like much, and because they weren't harmed, he'd gotten away with a single detention. He'd had to officially record his spells in the ministry, though, and in the records, it stated that the spells were created by Harry Potter and Jéricho Black. Jéricho had helped him, too, after all.

This project they were working on was the Prowler Project. Something like the Marauders' Map, in respect to their group. They reckoned it'd be finished by the end of the year. 

"What about a proper place for us?" Sera asked, cutting through Harry's thoughts. "We can't make the Shrieking Shack our permanent place, in case we're caught out. Somewhere inside the Castle..."

"We'll all look for one," Cedric said. 

Charles

Charles didn't find Hermione and Ron in the Gryffindor Tower, and as he left to look for them, he felt slightly hurt that they weren't interested in whether he had his bones back or not. He pulled out the Marauders' Map and saw them in the Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom, and hurried over there. After making sure that neither Filch nor any prefects were around, he opened the door and heard their voices coming from a locked stall.

"It's me," he said, closing the door behind him. There was a clunk, a splash, and a gasp from within the stall and he saw Hermione's eye peering through the keyhole.

"Charles!" she said. "You gave us such a fright - come in. How's your arm?"

"Fine," Charles squeezed into the stall. An old cauldron was perched on the toilet, and a crackling from under the rim told Charles they had lit a fire beneath it. Conjuring up portable, waterproof fires was a specialty of Hermione's.

"We'd've come to meet you, but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion," Ron explained as Charles, with difficulty, locked the stall again. "We've decided this is the safest place to hide it. How's Harry, by the way?"

"Fine. He was discharged with me this morning." Charles started to tell them about Colin, but Hermione interrupted, "We already know - we heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning. That's why we decided we'd better get going -"

"The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better," snarled Ron. "D'you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin."

"There's something else," said Charles, watching Hermione tearing bundles of knotgrass and throwing them into the potion. "Dobby came to visit me in the middle of the night."

Ron and Hermione looked up, amazed. He told them everything Dobby had told him and Harry - or hadn't told them. Hermione and Ron listened with their mouths open.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?" Hermione said.

"This settles it," said Ron in a triumphant voice. "Lucius Malfoy must've opened the Chamber when he was at school here and now he's told dear old Draco how to do it. It's obvious. Wish Dobby'd told you what kind of monster's in there, though. I want to know how come nobody's noticed it sneaking around the school."

"Maybe it can make itself invisible," said Hermione, prodding leeches to the bottom of the cauldron. "Or maybe it can disguise itself - pretend to be a suit of armor or something - I've read about Chameleon Ghouls -"

"You read too much, Hermione," said Ron, pouring dead lacewings on top of the leeches. He crumpled up the empty lacewing bag and looked at Charles. "So Dobby stopped us from getting on the train, broke your arm, and almost killed Harry." He shook his head. "You know what? If he doesn't stop trying to save your lives he's going to kill you." 

Ginny

The news that Colin Creevey had been attacked and was now lying as though dead in the hospital wing had spread through the entire school by Monday morning. The air was suddenly thick with rumor and suspicion. The first years were now moving around the castle in tight-knit groups, as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone.

Ginny, who sat next to Colin in Potions, had to change Partners. She was quite upset, as he was her friend. The Slytherins were all smug, being pure-bloods and in no danger of being petrified.

In the second week of December, Professor Snape came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. Ginny, Amy, Josephine Yarrow, and Evan Wayland all signed his list; Ginny because she didn't want to go home and face her family yet, even though she knew they'd support her; Amy because she was Ginny's best friend and being a single child living with relatives (her parents had been killed in the first war), Christmas wouldn't be too fun for her; Evan had told them all that he wanted to experience Christmas at the Castle.

Josephine Yarrow was the vainest person Ginny had met, and that was saying something, knowing Sirius and Jéricho. She was just so beautiful that Ginny couldn't blame her, either. She had a proper schedule; woke up the earliest, took a full hour to get ready, and went to bed the earliest, after a small walk after dinner. She maintained a proper diet, too. Josephine was possibly also one of the most cunning people in Slytherin. She didn't seem to care much about friendships, but was polite with everyone. She saw people as acquaintances, and didn't seem to know how to make friends. Ginny felt sort of sorry for her, and so she and Amy always made an effort to include her.

Her personality made sense, though. After some research, Ginny found out that her mother was one of the most cunning and slippery lawyers there were. Josephine's father owned the biggest law firms in England, too, and they were a neutral family. 

There weren't too many people staying in the castle that year, though. Due to the petrifications, most muggle-borns and even half-bloods were going home. Harry and Charles were staying, and so were their friends, which was a bit suspicious, but Ginny didn't try to pry into their business. What was strange, though, was that Lyra and Blaise were staying, as well.

When Ginny asked Lyra why she wasn't going home, the answer was straightforward. Because all her cousins and brother were staying back, she'd have no one to talk to at home, save Effie and Monty, who were a bit young to hold intelligent conversations with. Blaise claimed that he would throw up if he had to meet another of his mother's boyfriends.

Charles

Charles, Ron, and Hermione were staying back because they had heard that Malfoy was staying, which struck them as very suspicious. The holidays would be the perfect time to use the Polyjuice Potion and try to worm a confession out of him.

Unfortunately, the potion was only half finished. They still needed the bicorn horn and the boomslang skin, and the only place they were going to get them was from Snape's private stores. Charles privately felt he'd rather face Slytherin's legendary monster than let Snape catch him robbing his office.

So, he asked Harry for them. 

Harry, understandably, was suspicious. "Why would you need those ingredients? I don't think they're needed in any of your potions this year. Actually, they wouldn't be needed for a few more years."

Charles shrugged with false bravado. If Harry caught on... "I've noticed you and your friends sneaking out to the Shrieking Shack frequently, you see, and I even have evidence... So, you don't ask me anything, and I won't ask you."

Harry looked very annoyed as he sighed. "Fine, as if I care. Just don't get into trouble, okay? I'll owl-order them and they'll be here in a day or two. But remember, if I'm using my money on this, then don't expect any Christmas gifts from me this year."

Charles quickly agreed. 

Lyra

Lyra, Daphne, and Blaise were walking across the entrance hall when they saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Charles beckoned them over, looking excited.

"They're starting a Dueling Club!" Seamus Finnegan exclaimed. "First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days ......

"What, you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" Blaise asked, but he, too, read the sign with interest.

"Could be useful," he said to Lyra and Daphne as they went to dinner. "Shall we go?"

The girls were all for it, so at eight o'clock that evening they hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.

"I wonder who'll be teaching us?" Daphne asked as they edged into the chattering crowd. "Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young - maybe it'll be him."

"As long as it's not -" Lyra began, but she ended on a groan: Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I, myself, have done on countless occasions - for full details, see my published works."

Blaise made a noise in the back of his throat.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry - you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Lyra muttered in Blaise's ear, who snorted.

Snape's upper lip was curling. Lyra wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; anyone in their right minds would have been running as fast as they could in the opposite direction if Snape had been looking at them like that.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Lyra murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth.

"One - two - three -"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Lyra and Blaise cheered, along with Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins. Lyra hated Lockheart even more than Snape, after all. Hermione was dancing on tiptoes nearby. "Do you think he's all right?" she squealed through her fingers.

"Who cares?" Lyra and Charles said together.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm - as you see, I've lost my wand - ah, thank you, Miss Brown - yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see..."

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me -"

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape reached their side first.

"Time to split up the dream team, I think," he sneered. "Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter -"

Charles moved automatically toward Hermione.

"I don't think so," said Snape, smiling coldly. "Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Granger - you can partner Miss Bulstrode."

Malfoy strutted over, smirking. Behind him walked Milicent, and Lyra winced as Hermione gave her a weak smile that she did not return.

"Ms. Black," Snape drawled, "Why don't you partner with Mr. Thomas."

Lyra scowled at his retreating back. Blaise and Daphne paired together and Lyra went off to where Dean Thomas was standing.

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"

Lyra barely inclined her head, not taking her eyes off her partner.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents - only to disarm them - we don't want any accidents - one ... two ... three -"

Lyra pointed her wand straight at Thomas and shouted, "Rictusempra!"

A jet of silver light hit Thomas in the stomach and he doubled up, wheezing.

"I said disarm only!" Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Thomas sank to his knees; Lyra had hit him with a Tickling Charm, and he could barely move for laughing. Lyra quickly disarmed Thomas and countered the charm, and Thomas sat up, wheezing.

"Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge.

"Finite Incantatem!" he shouted. 

A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene, and Lyra looked up. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, and so were Charles and Malfoy, panting; Ron was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus, apologizing for whatever his broken wand had done; but Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode were still moving; Millicent had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain; both their wands lay forgotten on the floor. Lyra leaped forward and pulled Millicent off. It wasn't difficult: Millicent didn't resist when Lyra scowled.

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered amidst the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair - Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you -"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Neville's round, pink face went pinker.

"How about an older and more advanced pair? The elder Potter and... Mr. Flint, perhaps?" said Snape with a twisted smile.

Lyra watched as Harry and Flint went over and got ready.

"Three - two - one - go!" Lockheart shouted.

They both quickly started their duel. It was clear that Harry was much more quicker and advanced, while Flint had more brute strength. Unfortunately, Lyra could see the duel going darker and darker... till they were both aiming to maim.

Lockheart yelled for them to stop, but they didn't. It was a mesmerizing sight; how colorful sparks were shooting around, and how Harry seemed to dance among them to dodge. Then, Flint bellowed, "Serpensortia!"

The end of his wand exploded. Lyra watched, aghast, as a long black poisonous snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor. Lyra was already wondering if she should do something.

"Don't move, Potter," Snape drawled lazily, "I'll get rid of it..."

"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Harry

Harry wasn't sure what made him do it. He wasn't even aware of deciding to do it. All he knew was that his legs were carrying him forward as though he was on casters and that he had shouted stupidly at the snake, "Leave him alone!" And miraculously - inexplicably - the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry. He felt the momentary fear drain out of him. He knew the snake wouldn't attack anyone now, though how he knew it, he couldn't have explained.

And suddenly he realized, with a jolt, what he'd actually done... had he just talked to the bloody snake?!

Dread and panic rising in him, he looked up at Justin, who looked angry and scared.

"What do you think you're playing at?" Justin shouted, and before Harry could say anything, Justin had turned and stormed out of the hall.

Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape, too, was looking at Harry with a shrewd and calculating look. He was also dimly aware of an ominous muttering all around the walls. Then he felt a tugging on the back of his robes, and turned to see Sera there, with Jéricho, Cedric, and Adrian all standing behind her.

"Come on," Sera hissed in his ear. "Move - come on -"

She steered Harry out of the hall, the others hurrying alongside them. As they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away as though they were frightened of catching something. When they were finally in a corner of a deserted corridor, Cedric gritted, "You're a Parselmouth. Why didn't you tell us?"

"I didn't know." Harry honestly said. "Didn't have a clue before today..."

Jéricho groaned. "Bloody hell, Harry, this is bad."

"I know." Harry sighed.

"What did you say to it?" Sera asked.

"To not attack Justin -"

Cedric huffed. "No wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something - it was creepy, you know -"

Adrian shook his head. "And now the whole school's going to think you're Salazar Slytherin's great-great-great-great-grandson or something -"

"But I'm not," said Harry, with a panic he couldn't quite explain.

"You'll find that hard to prove," Sera said. "He lived about a thousand years ago; for all we know, you could be."

Harry just shook his head. "I know our family tree backward, and I'm not related to Slytherin in any way. If anyone is, it's Jéricho here. One of his ancestors married into the Gaunt Family!"

Jéricho shrugged. "I'm not the Parselmouth here, mate."

By the next morning, the snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last outdoor lessons of the term were canceled. Hence, Harry was sitting next to the common room fire with Alicia (who'd assured him that she didn't think he was the heir), when Charles came over.

"Can we talk, Harry?"

Harry excused himself from Alicia, who gave him an encouraging smile, before going off to a corner with Charles.

"Look, I'm just gonna say it," Charles started, "Did you know you're a parselmouth?"

"No." Harry met his eyes.

Charles nodded. "Thought so. Well, don't worry. I, Ron, and Hermione don't suspect you for even a second, okay?"

Harry grinned in relief. "Thanks, little brother." he ruffled Charles' hair affectionately, who squeaked and back away. "By the way, I've got your ingredients. Wait here."

After Harry had handed the Potions ingredients to Charles, he asked left through the portrait hole to find Justin, to tell him about yesterday. 

The castle was darker than it usually was in the daytime because of the thick, swirling gray snow at every window. Shivering, Harry walked past classrooms where lessons were taking place, catching snatches of what was happening within, and wished that he'd asked Charles to look for Justin in the map. Professor McGonagall was shouting at someone who, by the sound of it, had turned his friend into a badger. Resisting the urge to take a look, Harry walked on by, deciding to check the library first.

A group of the Hufliepuffs were sitting at the back of the library, seemingly not working. Between the long lines of high bookshelves, Harry could see that their heads were close together and they were having what looked like an absorbing conversation. He couldn't see whether Justin was among them, but they were all second years. He was walking toward them when something of what they were saying met his ears, and he paused to listen, hidden in the Invisibility section.

"So anyway," a stout boy was saying, "I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter's marked him down as his next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Charles Potter that he's Muggle-born. Justin actually told him he'd been down for Eton. And Charles must have told his brother about it?"

"You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?" said a girl with blonde pigtails anxiously.

"Hannah," said the stout boy - Ernie - solemnly, "he's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue."

There was some heavy murmuring at this, and Ernie went on, "Remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir, Beware. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Flich's cat's attacked. That first year, Creevey, kept annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know - Creevey's been attacked."

"He always seems so nice, though," said Hannah uncertainly, "and he's very popular. And, well, he's the brother of the Boy Who Lived. He can't be all bad, can he?"

Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer, and Harry edged nearer so that he could catch Ernie's words. "He must be jealous of his brother's fame. Maybe he's gone dark. He's certainly powerful and capable enough, according to others."

Harry couldn't take anymore. Clearing his throat loudly, he stepped out from behind the bookshelves. If he hadn't been feeling so angry, he would have found the sight that greeted him funny: Every one of the Hufflepuffs looked as though they had been Petrified by the sight of him, and the color was draining out of Ernie's face.

"Hello," said Harry. "First of all, you shouldn't be talking about things you don't understand. You do realize who my whole family is? I'm not a dark wizard, trust me. Secondly, I'm looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley."

The Hufepuffs' worst fears had clearly been confirmed. They all looked fearfully at Ernie.

"What do you want with him?" said Ernie in a quavering voice.

"Not that it's any of your concern, but I wanted to tell him what really happened with that snake at the Dueling Club," said Harry.

Ernie bit his white lips and then, taking a deep breath, said, "We were all there. We saw what happened."

"Then you noticed that after I spoke to it, the snake backed off?" said Harry.

"All I saw," said Ernie stubbornly, though he was trembling as he spoke, "was you speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake toward Justin. "

"I didn't chase it at him." Harry calmly said, though he shaking with anger. "It didn't even touch him."

"It was a very near miss," Ernie protested. "And in case you're getting ideas," he added hastily, "I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks, and my blood's as pure as anyone's, so -"

"-I don't care what sort of blood you've got!" said Harry fiercely. "Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns, when my own mother is one?"

Ernie balked, and Harry turned on his heel and stormed out of the library, earning himself a reproving glare from Madam Pince, who was polishing the gilded cover of a large spellbook. He blundered up the corridor, barely noticing where he was going, he was in such a fury. The result was that he walked into something very large and solid, which knocked him backward onto the floor.

"Oh, hello, Hagrid," Harry said, looking up.

Hagrid's face was entirely hidden by a woolly, snow-covered balaclava, but it couldn't possibly be anyone else, as he filled most of the corridor in his moleskin overcoat. A dead rooster was hanging from one of his massive, gloved hands.

"All righ', Harry?" he said, pulling up the balaclava so he could speak. "Why aren't yeh in class?"

"Canceled," said Harry, getting up. "What're you doing in here?"

Hagrid held up the limp rooster. "Second one killed this term," he explained. "It's either foxes or a Blood-Suckin Bugbear, an' I need the Headmaster's permission ter put a charm around the hen coop."

He peered more closely at Harry from under his thick, snowflecked eyebrows. "Yeh sure yeh're all righ'? Yeh look all hot an' bothered -"

Harry couldn't bring himself to repeat what Ernie and the rest of the Hufflepuffs had been saying about him. "It's nothing. I'd better get going, Hagrid, it's Transfiguration next and I've got to pick up my books."

He walked off, his mind still full of what Ernie had said about him.

Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Charles Potter that he was Muggle-born...

Harry stamped up the stairs and turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane. He was halfway down the passage when he tripped headlong over something lying on the floor.

He turned to squint at what he'd fallen over and felt as though his stomach had dissolved.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn't all. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight Harry had ever seen.

It was Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin's.

Harry got to his feet, his breathing fast and shallow, his heart doing a kind of drumroll against his ribs. He looked wildly up and down the deserted corridor and saw a line of spiders scuttling as fast as they could away from the bodies. The only sounds were the muffled voices of teachers from the classes on either side.

Before he could make a run for it, though, a door right next to him opened with a bang. Peeves came shooting out.

"Why, it's potty wee Potter!" cackled Peeves, bouncing past him. "What's Potter up to? Why's Potter lurking -"

Peeves stopped, halfway through a midair somersault. Upside down, he spotted Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs and, before Harry could stop him, screamed, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"

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 found himself pinned against the wall as the teachers shouted for quiet. Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her 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 into their classes. No sooner had the scene cleared somewhat than Ernie the Hufflepuff arrived, panting, on the scene.

"Caught in the act!" Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Harry.

"That will do, Macmillan!" said Professor McGonagall sharply.

Peeves was bobbing overhead, now grinning wickedly, surveying the scene; Peeves always loved chaos. As the teachers bent over Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, examining them, Peeves broke into song:

"Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done, You're killing off students, you think it's good fun -"

"That's enough Peeves!" barked Professor McGonagall, and Peeves zoomed away backward, with his tongue out at Harry.

Justin was carried up to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department, but nobody seemed to know what to do for Nearly Headless Nick. In the end, Professor McGonagall conjured a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to Ernie with instructions to waft Nearly Headless Nick up the stairs. This Ernie did, fanning Nick along like a silent black hovercraft. This left Harry and Professor McGonagall alone together.

"This way, Potter," she said.

"Professor," said Harry at once, "I swear I didn't -"

"This is out of my hands, Potter," said Professor McGonagall curtly.

They marched in silence around a corner and she stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.

"Lemon drop!" she said. The gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator. As he and Professor McGonagall stepped onto it, Harry heard the wall thud close behind them. They rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, Harry saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin.

And as the door opened, he saw two people on the other side, sitting opposite the Headmaster.