~ The Writing on the Wall ~
"What's going on here? What's going on?"
Argus Filch, alarmed by the shouting, elbowed his way through the crowd of students.
When he saw Mrs. Norris he flinched and buried his face in his hands.
"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked.
And his bulging eyes settled on Harry.
"You!" he shrieked, "You! You murdered my cat! You killed her! I'll kill you! I'll–"
"Argus!"
Dumbledore had entered the scene with several teachers in tow.
In an instant he swept past Harry and the others and fetched Mrs Norris from the torch bracket.
"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch, "You, too," he added, looking at the Potter twins and their friends.
Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.
"My office is nearest, Headmaster – just upstairs – please feel free–"
"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.
The silent crowd parted to let them through.
Lockhart, excited and feeling rather important, hurried after Dumbledore; Professors McGonagall and Snape also followed.
As they entered Lockhart's darkened office, there was a scurrying sound along the walls.
Harry saw some Lockhart's with curlers in their hair disappear from the pictures.
The real Lockhart lit the candles on the desk and stepped back.
Dumbledore laid Mrs Norris on the polished tabletop and began examining it.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged tense looks and sat down in chairs outside of the candlelight, alongside the other three.
The tip of Dumbledore's long hooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs Norris' fur.
He examined her closely through his half-moon glasses, stroking and nudging her with his long fingers.
Professor McGonagall, eyes narrowed, was leaning almost as close to the cat.
Behind them stood Snape, alert and with a most odd expression on his face: as if trying hard not to smile.
And Lockhart danced around them all giving his assessments.
"It was definitely a curse that killed her – probably the Transmogrifian Torture – I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her…"
Filch's dry, bloodcurdling sobs could be heard throughout Lockhart's omissions.
He was slumped in a chair by the desk, his face in his hands and unable to catch a glimpse of Mrs Norris.
Lucy felt sorry for the caretaker.
As much as they loathed Filch, Harry couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him, though not as much as he did for himself.
If Dumbledore believed Filch, there would be no question that he would be expelled from the school.
Dumbledore was now muttering strange words to himself and tapping Mrs Norris with his wand, but nothing happened: she continued to look as if she had just been stuffed.
"… I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogou," said Lockhart, "a series of attacks, the full stories in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once…"
The Lockhart's lining the walls all nodded in agreement. One of them had forgotten to take off his hair net.
Finally, Dumbledore sat up, "She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.
Lockhart, counting the number of murders he had prevented, stopped.
"Not dead?" Filch choked out, looking through the crack of a finger at Mrs. Norris. "But why's she all – all stiff and frozen?"
"She has been Petrified," said Dumbledore. ("Ah! I thought so!" exclaimed Lockhart.)
"But how, I cannot say..."
"Ask him!" Filch screeched, turning his stained and tear-stained face to Harry.
"Harry didn't do anything," Lucy said.
She got up and stood between Filch and her brother.
"Miss Potter, sit back down," Professor McGonagall said, and the young witch reluctantly sat back down.
"No second year could have done this," said Dumbledore firmly. "it would take Dark Magic of the most advanced -"
"He did it, he did it," Filch snapped, his face turning purple. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found – in my office – he knows I'm a – I'm a–" Filch's face looked terribly anguished, "He knows I'm a squib", he blurted out.
Lucy raised her eyebrows questioningly. What was a squib?
She looked inconspicuously at Ophelia and Louisa, who seemed more surprised than confused.
"None of us cares, that you are a squip", said Ophelia and Louisa nodded.
Filch blinked a few times, not saying anything.
Then again silence, before they looked at Harry again.
"I never touched Mrs. Norris!" Harry said loudly, aware that everyone was looking at him, including all the Lockhart's on the walls.
"And I don't even know what a squib is."
"Rubbish!" Filch snarled. "He saw my Kwikspell letter!"
"If I speak, Headmaster," Snape said from the shadows, and Harry's foreboding increased; surely Snape would have nothing to say that could help him.
"Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said, his lip curling in a tinge of malice as if he doubted it, "But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"
The friends simultaneously tried to explain the death anniversary thing: "… there were hundreds of ghosts, they'll tell you we were there–"
"But why not join the feast afterward?" Snape said, his dark eyes glittering candlelight. "Why go up to that corridor?"
Lucy and the others looked at Harry.
"Because – because–" Harry said, heart pounding violently, and something told him it would sound far-fetched to explain that a disembodied voice only he could hear had lured him there.
"Because we were tired and wanted to go to bed," he said.
"Without any supper?" Snape asked with a triumphant smile on his gaunt face. "I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties."
"The others weren't hungry," Lucy said loudly, drowning out Ron's growling stomach. "And Harry and I are used to going to bed hungry, so… "
"Miss Potter–," interrupted Professor McGonagall.
"Sorry."
"I suggest, Headmaster, that they are not being entirely truthful," he announced. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest."
Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and refrained from commenting on anything – Louisa, on the other hand, didn't.
"No one asked your opinion," the blond girl murmured.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"Really, Severus," Professor McGonagall said sharply, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong."
Dumbledore gave Harry a searching look.
His twinkling light blue eyes made Harry feel like he was being x-rayed.
"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said decided.
Snape looked angry, as did Filch.
"My cat has been petrified!" he screeched, eyeballs bouncing, "I want to see some punishment"
"We will be able to cure her, Argus," said Dumbledore patiently, "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."
"I'll make it," interjected Lockhart.
"I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep–"
"Excuse me," Snape said icily, "But I believe I am the Potions master at this school."
There was an awkward pause.
Lucy and Ophelia would have liked to keep watching, but then Dumbledore addressed the students, "You may go."
~~
They walked out of the room as fast as they could.
They slipped into an empty classroom one floor above Lockhart's office and closed the door quietly behind them.
Harry tried to make out his friends' faces in the darkness.
"D'you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?"
"No," said Ron without hesitation. "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world."
Something in Ron's voice made Harry ask, "You believe me, don't you?"
"'Course I do," Ron said quickly. "But - you must admit it's weird…"
"I know it's weird," said Harry. "The whole thing's weird. What was that writing on the wall about? The Chamber Has Been Opened… What’s that supposed to mean?"
"You know, it rings a sort of bell," Ron said slowly. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once… might’ve been Bill…"
"And what on earth's a squib?" Harry asked.
He was surprised to hear Ron giggle.
"Well – it's not funny really – but as it's Filch," he said. "A Squib is someone who was born into a wizarding family but hasn’t got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of Muggle-born wizards, but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch's trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much."
Ron smiled and added, "He's bitter."
"That's not funny, Ron," Lucy rebuked him. "How would you feel in that situation?"
"Now don't say you feel sorry for Filch," Ophelia said.
Lucy couldn't reply because a bell was ringing somewhere.
"Midnight," said Harry. "We'd better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else."
~~~~
For a few days at school, they talked about nothing but attacking Mrs Norris.
Filch kept reminding them all by pacing up and down the crime scene as if believing the attacker would return.
Harry had seen him scrubbing the writing on the wall with 'Mrs Skower's All Purpose Magical Mess Remover' but to no avail.
The words shone as brightly as before on the stone wall.
When Filch wasn't guarding the crime scene, he would shuffle red-eyed through the hallways, lunging at unsuspecting students and attempting to give them detention for things like 'loud breathing' or 'looking happy'.
Ginny Weasley seemed very saddened by Mrs Norris's fate. According to Ron, she was a big cat lover.
"But you haven’t really got to know Mrs. Norris," said Ron encouragingly.
The incident had its effect on Hermione as well. It was not uncommon for her to spend a lot of time reading, but now she did almost nothing else.
Lucy, Ophelia and Louisa were worried about her, but Hermione didn't tell them what she was up to.
Harry and Ron didn't get much out of her either and they didn't find out until the following Wednesday.
~~
Snape had kept Harry back after Potions class and let him scrape annelids off the tables.
After hastily wolfing down his lunch, he went upstairs to meet Ron in the library.
Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Hufflepuff boy from Herbology, approached him.
Harry had just opened his mouth to say hello when Justin noticed him, turned abruptly and fled.
Harry found Ron and Lucy way back in the library doing his History of Magic homework.
Professor Binns had given them a very long essay on 'The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards'.
"I don't believe it, I’m still eight inches short," said Ron angrily, letting go of his parchment, which rolled up again in an instant.
"Can I read through your essay?" Ron asked Lucy, who had just finished her homework.
The black-haired witch nodded and pushed her parchment towards Ron.
"Thanks. Can you believe it, Hermione's done four feet seven inches and her writing’s tiny."
"Where is she?" Harry asked, grabbing the tape measure and unrolling his own homework.
"Somewhere over there," said Ron, gesturing toward the shelves. "Looking for another book. I think she's trying to read the whole library before Christmas."
Harry told Lucy and Ron that Justin Finch-Fletchley ran away from him.
"Dunno why you care. I thought he was a bit of an idiot," said Ron, scribbling as big as he could on the parchment. "All that junk about Lockhart being so great–"
Hermione appeared between the bookshelves. She looked annoyed and seemed finally ready to talk to them.
"All the copies of 'Hogwarts, A History' have been taken out," she said, sitting down next to Harry and Ron.
“And there's a two-week waiting list. I wish I hadn't left my copy at home, but I couldn't fit it in my trunk with all the Lockhart books."
"Why do you want it?" Harry asked.
"For the same reason as everyone else," said Hermione, "to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets."
"What's that?" Harry said quickly.
"That's it. I don't remember," Hermione said, biting her lip. "And I can't find the story anywhere else–"
Lucy was about to suggest that Hermione borrow her copy of 'Hogwarts, A History' when the next lesson started.
Ron and Hermione went into History of Magic bickering.
~~
That was the most boring subject on her schedule.
Professor Binns was the only ghost they had as teachers.
Entering the classroom through the blackboard was the most exciting thing that ever happened in his class.
He was ancient and shrivelled, and many people said he didn't realize he was dead.
He'd just gotten up to go to class one day and left his body in a chair in front of the fireplace in the staff room; his daily routine hadn't changed in the slightest since then.
Today was even more boring than usual.
Professor Binns opened his papers and began reading, dully like a vacuum cleaner, until almost everyone in the class had fallen into a waking sleep, only occasionally waking up to jot down a name or date.
Hermione raised her hand.
Professor Binns, during a deathly boring lecture on the International Wizarding Convention of 1289, looked up in bewilderment.
"Miss – er –"
“Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a light voice.
Dean Thomas, who had been sitting there staring out the window, jaw sagging, jumped his trance; Lavender Brown jerked her head off hers Armen and Neville's elbow slipped off the table.
Professor Binns blinked.
"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezing voice.
"I am dealing with fact, Miss Granger, not myths and legends."
Clearing his throat in what sounded like cracking chalk, he continued, "In September of that year a sub-committee of Cypriot magicians -"
He stumbled and broke off. Hermione's hand flew into the air again.
"Miss Grant?"
"Please, sir, don’t legends always have a basis in fact?"
Professor Binns looked at her with such irritation that Harry was sure no student had ever interrupted him before, either in his lifetime or since.
"Well," said Professor Binns slowly, "yes, one could argue that, I suppose."
He peered over at Hermione as if he had never seen a real student before.
"However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale–"
But now the whole class was hanging on Professor Binns' every word.
He looked at her bleakly and all eyes were on him.
Harry could see that such unusual interest was rattling Binns.
"Oh, very well," he said slowly.
Lucy nudged Ophelia next to her. The brown-haired girl had fallen asleep, as she did almost every class with Professor Binns.
However, the black-haired witch thought Ophelia would like to hear the story.
"Let me see… the Chamber of Secrets… You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago - the precise date is uncertain – by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution"
He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued.
"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."
Professor Binns paused again, pursing his lips, looking like a wrinkled old tortoise.
"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."
There was a silence as he finished, but it wasn't the usual sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns's class.
The atmosphere was uncomfortably tense as everyone looked at him, waiting for more. Professor Binns looked a little displeased.
"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible."
Now Louisa raised her hand.
"Sir – what exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?"
"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," Professor Binns said in his dry, shrill voice.
The class exchanged worried looks.
Hopefully not another three-headed dog, thought Lucy. She was fed up with monsters for the next few years.
Then there was the question of where Fluffy was now. His task was to guard the philosopher's stone and since it was now destroyed–
"I tell you, the thing does not exist," said Professor Binns, leafing through his papers. "There is no Chamber and no monster."
"But sir," said Seamus Finnigan, "if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?"
"Nonsense, O'Flaherty," said Professor Binns, now more seriously. "If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven’t found the thing–"
"But, Professor," squeaked Parvati Patil, "you’d probably have to use Dark Magic to open it -"
"Just because a wizard doesn’t use Dark Magic doesn’t mean he can't, Miss Pennyfeather," Professor Binns replied harshly. "I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore–"
"But maybe you've got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn't–" Dean Thomas began, but Professor Binns had had enough.
"That will do," he said sharply, "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to history, to solid, believable, verifiable fact!"
And five minutes later, the class had slipped back into their usual daydreaming.
~~
"I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony," Ron told his friends as they struggled through the crowded hallways after class to bring their bags upstairs before dinner.
"But I never knew he started all this pure-blood stuff. I wouldn't be in his house if you paid me. Honestly, if the Sorting Hat had tried to put me in Slytherin, I'd've got the train straight back home…"
"Hey!"
"You know what I mean, Lucy."
Hermione nodded, but Harry didn't say a word. Something inside had just cramped painfully.
Harry had never told his friends that the Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting him in Slytherin.
He hadn't even told his sister about it. Harry worried that Lucy might get it wrong.
As the stream of students carried them in one direction, Colin Creevey swam past in the opposite direction.
"Hiya, Harry!"
"Hullo, Colin," Harry said casually.
"Harry - Harry - a boy in my class has been saying you're -"
But Colin was so small that he couldn't fight the wave of students that carried him to the Great Hall; they heard him squeak, "See you, Harry," and then he was gone.
"What's a boy in his class saying about you?" Hermione asked.
"That I'm Slytherin's heir, I expect," Harry said, and his stomach lurched as he suddenly remembered Justin Finch-Fletchley running away from him at lunchtime.
"People here'll believe anything," Ron said in disgust.
"It's not like Harry is in Gryffindor or anything," Louisa commented, rolling her eyes.
The crowd gradually disappeared, and they climbed the next flight of stairs without difficulty.
"D'you really think there’s a Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked.
"I don't know," said Hermione, frowning. "Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs. Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be – well – human."
As she spoke, they turned a corner and found themselves at the very end of the corridor where the attack had taken place. They stopped and looked around.
The scene was the same as that night, except that there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch holder, and an empty chair stood against the wall, which still read, "The chamber has been opened."
"That's where Filch has been keeping guard," Ron muttered.
They looked at each other. The corridor was deserted.
"Can’t hurt to have a poke around," Harry said.
He put his bag down, got on his knees and crawled around on the ground, looking for tracks.
"Scorch marks!" he said, "here – and here–"
"Come and have a look at this," said Hermione, "this is funny..."
Harry got up and walked over to the window next to the writing on the wall.
Hermione pointed to the top pane where about twenty spiders were huddled in a heap, apparently trying with all their might to get through a small crack.
A long silver thread swung back and forth like a rope, as if they had all scrambled up it quickly to get out.
"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" said Hermione, shaking her head.
"No," said Harry, "have you?"
He turned his head.
Ron kept a good distance from them and seemed to be fighting the urge to just run away.
Lucy kept even more distance from the spiders than Ron. Harry knew his sister and knew that she was very afraid of spiders.
"What's up?" Harry told his best friend.
"I – don't – like – spiders," said Ron tightly.
"I never know that," Hermione said, looking at Ron in surprise. "You've used spiders in Potions loads of times…"
"I don't mind them dead," said Ron, carefully avoiding the window. "I just don't like the way they move…"
Hermione giggled.
"It's not funny," said Ron, offended. "If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my - my teddy bear into a great big filthy spider because I broke his toy broomstick… You wouldn't like them either if you'd been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and…"
He broke off with a shudder. Hermione was still trying not to laugh.
Harry felt urgently that they should change the subject and said, "Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone's mopped it up."
"It was about here," said Ron, recovering his composure and taking a few steps past Filch's chair, "Level with this door."
"That’s Moaning Myrtle’s place. Come on, let’s have a look", suggested Hermione.
She ignored the large 'OUT OF ORDER' sign and opened the door.
Beneath a huge cracked and stained mirror stretched a row of cracked sinks.
The ground was damp and dimly reflected the light of a few candle stubs burning out in their holders; the scratched wooden doors of the cabins were peeling paint and one was on its hinges.
Hermione pressed her fingers to her lips and crept over to the rear cabin.
Lucy, Ophelia and Louisa quietly followed Hermione.
Once there, Hermione said, "Hello, Myrtle, how are you?"
Harry and Ron approached curiously.
Moaning Myrtle hovered over the toilet bowl and pinched a pimple on her chin.
"Ask her if she saw anything," Harry whispered.
"What are you whispering?" Myrtle asked, staring at him.
"Nothing," said Harry quickly. "We wanted to ask–"
"I wish people would stop talking behind my back!" Myrtle said tearfully. "I do have feelings, you know, even if I am dead–"
"Myrtle, no one wants to upset you," said Lucy, "Harry only -"
"No one wants to upset me! That’s a good one!" howled Myrtle. "My life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along ruining my death!"
"We wanted to ask you if you've seen anything funny lately," Louisa said quickly. "Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door on Halloween."
"Did you see anyone near here that night?" Harry asked.
"I wasn't paying attention to it," said Myrtle, short-tempered. "Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I'm – that I'm–"
"Already dead," Ron helped her further.
Myrtle let out a dramatic sob, rose into the air, turned and, splashing the three of them with water, fell headfirst into the toilet bowl, where she disappeared.
Judging by her deep sobs, she had come to rest somewhere in the drainpipe.
Harry and Ron stood there with their mouths open, but Hermione gave a weary shrug and said, "Honestly, that was almost cheerful for Myrtle… Come on, let's go."
Harry looked at his sister, who nodded in agreement.
Harry had barely slammed the door behind Myrtle's gurgling sobs when a loud voice made the three of them jump.
"RON!"
Percy Weasley, his prefect badge shiny, stood rooted to the landing with a look of incredulous amazement on his face.
"What were you–?"
"Just having a look around," said Ron, shrugging, "Clues, you know–"
Percy swelled in a way that reminded the twins a lot of Mrs Weasley.
"Get – away – from – here–," he said, striding towards her and beginning to shoo her away, waving his arms. "Don't you care what this looks like? Coming back here while everyone's at dinner–"
"Why shouldn't we be here?" Ron retorted angrily.
Then he stopped and stood in front of Percy.
"Listen, we never laid a finger on that cat!"
"That's what I told Ginny," Percy said angrily, "but she still seems to think you're going to be expelled, I've never seen her so upset, crying her eyes out, you might think of her, all the first years are thoroughly over excited by this business–"
"You don't care about Ginny," Ron said, his ears red now. "You're just worried I'm going to mess up your chances of being Head Boy–"
"Five points from Gryffindor," Percy said harshly, fingering his prefect badge. "And I hope it teaches you a lesson! No more detective work, or I’ll write to Mum!"
And he strode away, the back of his neck as red as Ron's ears.
The friends sat as far away from Percy as possible in the common room that night.
Ron was still in a bad mood and kept smearing his Charms homework.
As he absentmindedly reached for his wand to remove the blobs, the parchment caught fire.
Ron slammed the 'The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2' shut. To Harry's surprise, Hermione did the same.
"Who can it be, though?" she said in a calm voice, as if continuing a conversation. "Who'd want to frighten all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwart’'s?"
"Let's think," said Ron with mock perplexity, "Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum?"
He looked at Hermione. Hermione looked back, not exactly convinced.
"If you're talking about Malfoy -"
"Of course I am!" said Ron, "You heard him - 'You'll be next, Mudbloods!' – come on, you've only got to look at his foul rat face to know it’s him."
"Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?" Louisa asked doubtfully.
"Look at his family," Harry said, closing his books as well. "The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin; he's always boasting about it. They could easily be Slytherin's descendants. His father's definitely evil enough."
"Harry, I am in Slytherin," Lucy reminded her brother.
"That's different," Harry replied immediately.
"They could’ve had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries!" said Ron, "Handing it down, father to son…"
"Well," Hermione hesitated, "I suppose it's possible…"
"But how do we prove it?" Harry asked.
"Guys–"
"There might be a way," Hermione said slowly, lowering her voice even further with a quick glance over at Percy. "Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We'd be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect–"
"If, in a month or so, you feel like explaining, you will let us know, won’t you?" said Ron irritably.
"All right," Hermione said coolly. "What we'd need to do is to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions without him realizing it's us."
"But that's impossible," Harry said, and Ron laughed.
"No, it's not. All we need would be some Polyjuice Potion."
"That's not–", Lucy tried again, but they wouldn't listen to her.
"What's that?" Ron and Harry asked in unison.
"Snape mentioned it in class a few weeks ago–"
"D'you think we've got nothing better to do in Potions than listen to Snape?" Ron grumbled.
"Erm – considering Snape is the Potions teacher," Louisa murmured.
Harry gave her a 'like you always pay attention in class' look which Louisa returned with an 'at least I know what's said in class' look.
"It transforms you into somebody else. Think about it! We could change into three of the Slytherins. No one would know it was us. Malfoy would probably tell us anything. He's probably boasting about it in the Slytherin common room right now, if only we could hear him."
"This Polyjuice stuff sounds a bit dodgy to me," Ron said, frowning. "What if we were stuck looking like Slytherins forever?"
"Hello, guys… Slytherin next to you..."
"It wears off after a while," said Hermione, waving her hand impatiently, "But getting hold of the recipe will be very difficult. Snape said it was in a book called Moste Potente Potions and it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library."
There was only one way to get a book from the Restricted Section: you needed written permission from a teacher.
"Hard to see why we’d want the book, really," said Ron, "if we weren't going to try and make one of the potions"
"I think," said Hermione. "that if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance…"
"Oh, come on, no teacher's going to fall for that," said Ron. "They'd have to be really thick…"