Harry spent the night wandering through the castle, listening for any hint of the snake. After a few frustratingly uneventful hours, he gave it up as a bad job and decided to go to the owlery and visit Hedwig instead, wanting to spend some time with her outside of having her transport secret packages. Harry used his eagle form to fly over, but wisely transformed into Snidget form before flying through the window. Still, he received several disdainful looks from those owls not out hunting, most of whom were species least suited to hunting through snowfall, which had started recently but was showing no sign of stopping.
When Harry finally located Hedwig outside on a tree branch, enjoying the rodent she had just caught, it was against such a lovely backdrop of thick snowflakes falling around her that he sat on his own branch for a while, watching her. He wished for a moment that he had brought his camera, but that made him think of poor Colin, still petrified in the hospital wing, which made him feel guilty for just sitting here doing nothing.
He did spend some time with Hedwig; it was always fun to be around her in his Snidget form, as she instinctively acted like a big sister towards him, which he found adorable. By the time Harry bade her good night and made it back to Gryffindor Tower, the snow had turned into an outright blizzard so thick that when they came down in the morning, there was a notice stating that the last Herbology lesson of the term had been cancelled. Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else, now that it was so important for the Mandrakes to grow quickly and revive both Mrs. Norris and Colin.
During the break in their schedule left by the class cancellation, Harry played chess with Ron in the common room.
"For heaven's sake, Harry," said Hermione, exasperated, as one of Ron's bishops wrestled Harry's knight off his horse and dragged him off the board. "Are you even paying attention?"
"Yes!" Harry argued, but when he turned his actual attention onto the board, he realized it was a lie. "Wait…" he started, going back in his mind of the past several moves. "You tricked me!"
Ron grinned with blatantly prideful guilt. "I definitely did," he admitted, and began moving the pieces back into place, as Harry had already knocked over his king in defeat, knowing it was five moves away from happening. "I moved this pawn and nearly swore at the mistake, but then you didn't even notice. After that, I knew I could make it look like I was using a simple strategy that you'd counter on autopilot, when it was really just a long gambit."
"Yeah, all right," Harry said while standing up, not wanting to hear more about how badly he had played. "I guess I'll take a walk and try to clear my head."
As Hermione took his place across from Ron, Harry exited the portrait hole, not having any particular destination in mind. The castle was darker than it usually was in daytime because of the thick, swirling snow at every window. Harry walked past classrooms where lessons were taking place, catching snatches of what was happening within. Professor McGonagall was shouting at someone who, by the sound of it, had turned his friend into a badger. Harry vaguely wondered what that scene must look like, but resisted peeking in.
With the wind whipping bitterly outside, he was able to find five new places in the castle that needed Comfort Runes. He was just about to apply a sixth one in the hallway outside the library when he overheard whispering from within.
A group of the Hufflepuffs who would also have normally been in Herbology were sitting at the back of the library, but they didn't seem to be working. As he inched his way in among the shelves, Harry listened to what sounded like an absorbing conversation.
"So anyway," someone 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 Potter that he was Muggle-born. Justin actually told him he'd been down for Eton. That's not the kind of thing you should bandy about with Slytherin's heir on the loose, is it?"
Harry was close enough now to peer through a couple of lines of books to see that it was Ernie Macmillan talking.
"You can't possibly think it's Potter," said a girl with blonde pigtails rather incredulously.
"Hannah," said the stout boy 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 before 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, Filch's cat's attacked. That first year, Creevey, was 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, when Susan went to his house last year, he invited all kinds of muggle-born students and had their Muggle parents attend as well, sitting around having tea with the Pureblood parents. Not to mention the fact that he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear…"
At first deflated by the news of Harry happily inviting Muggles into his home, Ernie latched onto the second part of what Hannah had said, lowering his voice mysteriously. The other Hufflepuffs bent closer to listen.
"No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that." He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, "That's probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn't want another Dark Lord competing with him. I wonder what other powers Potter's been hiding?"
Harry decided he had heard enough, and stepped out from behind the bookshelf. It took until he was standing right next to Ernie for them to notice him. If he hadn't been feeling so down about what they were saying about him, he would have found the sight that greeted him funny: Every one of the Hufflepuffs jumped in something of a domino effect as each of them in line noticed him standing there.
Luckily, there was an open seat next to Hannah, which Harry sat down in before they had a chance to run away, which Ernie looked very close to doing.
"Hi guys," said Harry, looking each of them in the eye, in turn. Seeing their thinly veiled panic, he held his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Listen, I actually don't think I blame you if you suspect me, or whatever. Some of what you're saying makes sense, I guess, but like Hannah's saying, most of it just doesn't. One of my best friends in Muggle-born, and my other best friend's family is widely known to stand against the blood-purity nonsense some people put stock in."
The Hufflepuffs just stared at him. Hannah looked like she was going to say something, but Ernie beat her to it.
"We all saw what happened at the Duelling Club with the snake," Ernie said with a somewhat quivering voice.
"Well yeah, you saw Malfoy conjure the snake, and then I stopped it and vanished it," said Harry flatly.
"All I saw," said Ernie stubbornly, though he was trembling as he spoke, "was you speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake toward Justin."
"That's not true" Hannah said, finding her voice. "We were all there, Ernie, and that is not what happened.
"Close enough," said Ernie. "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," said Harry plainly. "I can't imagine ever caring about such a thing. Salazar Slytherin was so incredibly bigoted that he apparently actually went through the effort to create a secret chamber with a monster inside it, with the goal of… I guess petrifying cats and children in a school because he doesn't like who their parents were? It's ridiculous."
"I've heard you hate those Muggles you used to live with," said Ernie swiftly.
"Yeah, I hated them enough to help them become millionaires," Harry said dismissively. "And now I live with my house-elves who are more like my grandparents than my servants."
"That's true!" Hannah piped up again. "Susan said they pretty much boss Harry around."
Harry tried to hide his smile. He wished he could share that observation with Toory and Zeely, but he knew they would likely not find it as endearing as he did. He shook his head and stood up, not wanting to drag this conversation out.
"You may also recall that when Draco Malfoy used a slur on my Muggle-born best friend, Ron and I sent him to the hospital wing, and I got detention for scarring his face with the word INBREED."
Harry pushed his chair in, wanting to leave but wanting to be sure he fully got his point across. "Besides, I'm actually related to Slytherin on my Muggle-born mother's side, which completely destroys any argument about blood purity meaning jack shit."
He turned on his heel and walked out of the library, receiving a reproving glare from Madam Pince, who was polishing the gilded cover of a large spell book and had likely overheard his language. Harry moved quickly up the corridor, barely noticing where he was going, wishing he had just kept his ears shut, and cutting off his senses now to below even normal level. The result of this ignorant charge through the castle 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?"
"Cancelled," 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, snow flecked 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," he said. "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 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 absently raised his hand at the window, repairing it as he walked down the passage, but then tripped over something lying on the floor. He turned to squint at what he'd stumbled 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 cranked his senses to full power and looked wildly up and down the deserted corridor, seeing a line of spiders scuttling as fast as they could away from the bodies. The only sounds were the voices of teachers from the classes on either side. He could run, and no one would ever know he had been there. But he couldn't just leave Justin lying here… He had to get help… Would anyone believe he hadn't had anything to do with this?
As he stood there panicking, a door right next to him opened with a bang. Peeves the Poltergeist came shooting out.
"Why, it's potty wee Potter!" cackled Peeves, knocking Harry's glasses askew as he bounced past him. "What's Potter up to? Why's Potter lurking —"
Peeves stopped, halfway through a mid-air 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 own 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, who had just been about to fuse Peeves's mouth permanently shut.
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.
Harry did not protest, following behind McGonagall in silence as she led him around a corner to the familiar ugly gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office.
Professor Dumbledore was not in his office, and Harry knew it was likely that he would already be investigating what had happened. McGonagall left him alone, but Harry could not sit still and wait, instead walking over to Fawkes' perch to say hello. The moment he saw the bird, Harry knew that today must be a Burning Day for the Phoenix, or at least very close to. He looked far different than his usual, beautiful self — more like a half-plucked turkey today compared to his typical handsome red and gold plumage.
"You'll feel better soon," Harry said kindly as Fawkes made a rather pitiful gagging noise.
A couple of feathers fell out of his tail. He clicked his beak once, and then burst into flames, which quickly grew into a fireball. Fawkes let out one loud shriek and the next second, there was nothing but a smouldering pile of ash on the floor.
The office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very sombre. His face softened when he saw the pile of ash.
"About time," he said. "He's been looking dreadful for days; I've been telling him to get a move on."
Harry nodded, following Dumbledore back to his desk, where the headmaster settled himself in the high chair behind the desk and fixed Harry with his penetrating, light-blue stare.
Before Dumbledore could say anything, however, the door of the office flew open with an almighty bang and Hagrid burst in, a wild look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on top of his shaggy black head and the dead rooster still swinging from his hand.
"It wasn' Harry, Professor Dumbledore!" said Hagrid urgently. "I was talkin' ter him seconds before that kid was found, he never had time, sir —"
Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on, waving the rooster around in his agitation, sending feathers everywhere.
"— it can't've bin him, I'll swear it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic if I have to —"
"Hagrid, I —"
"— yeh've got the wrong boy, sir, I know Harry never —"
"Hagrid !" said Dumbledore loudly. "I do not think that Harry attacked those people."
"Oh," said Hagrid, the rooster falling limply at his side. "Right. Well then, erm… I'll just wait outside then, Headmaster." He stomped out, looking embarrassed.
"What do we know about Slytherin's interests, outside of magical superiority?" Harry started at once, leaning forward in the chair he had forced himself to sit in.
"Explain," Dumbledore said, considering Harry over the long tips of his fingers.
"Something that could petrify a cat, a human, and a ghost, that talks like a snake and seems to be able to travel through the castle otherwise undetected. No one's even seen it, as least as far as we know. Although maybe they have and that's what…"
Harry stopped, his mind flashing back to the hallway today compared to the hallway in which Mrs. Norris had been found. He stood up, unable to help himself, but refrained from pacing too far away from Dumbledore's desk, clutching the back of the chair in which he had been sitting.
"What if seeing it is what petrified them?" Harry postulated. Then he remembered another detail, and all of the pieces snapped together in his mind. He looked into Dumbledore's eyes, then scrambled back into his chair again.
"There were spiders — a string of spiders moving away from where Nick and Justin were found today, and Ron, Hermione and I saw the same thing happening in front of where Mrs. Norris was found. I'd never seen spiders behaving that way before, but now I've seen it twice, at both the locations of the attacks." He spoke quickly and urgently, leaning forward. "But…"
"But, if it was a Basilisk , as you seem to be implying," Dumbledore cut in, clearly following Harry's line of reasoning, "they would all be dead, not petrified." He was not arguing with Harry, but rather speaking the discrepancy aloud as if trying to work it out.
Harry was working to reconcile the point as well. He had read about Basilisk s, otherwise known as the King of Serpents. Born from a chicken egg hatched beneath a toad, a Basilisk could reach gigantic size and live for many hundreds of years. It is incredibly venomous, but its stare alone was enough to kill anyone and anything that looked directly into its eyes. Spiders flee from it instinctively, as it is their mortal enemy. Everything about it seemed to fit perfectly, except for all of these victims being petrified instead of killed, as well as the notion that something that large could possibly be moving about Hogwarts undetected.
Dumbledore looked to be about to say something — perhaps these same points as well — but stopped himself, a thought having clearly occurred to him.
"Hagrid!" he called loudly instead.
There was some shuffling from outside the office door, which was clearly Hagrid getting out of the chair in the corridor then making his way back into the office.
"Professor?"
"Bring the rooster," Dumbledore told him.
Hagrid had since put down the dead rooster he had been swinging earlier, and now made to retrieve it from where he was sitting, looking somewhat confused. When he brought it back into the office, Dumbledore gestured for him to put it onto his desk, on which he had cleared a space.
"Erm… it's what I meant ter talk ter yeh about," Hagrid said into the silence as Dumbledore examined the rooster. "This is the second one I found like this. I was wantin' to put a Charm around the hen coop, so I… uh… came ter get yer permission."
Hagrid looked at Harry a little sideways. Last year, Harry had learned that Hagrid had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, but Harry had never found out why — any mention of the matter and Hagrid would clear his throat loudly and become mysteriously deaf until the subject was changed. What Harry did know for certain was that Hagrid had somehow recovered the pieces of his wand, which had been confiscated and broken, and kept them in his pink umbrella, with which he occasionally cast a mild spell or two when the moment necessitated it, or apparently when he sought Dumbledore's permission first.
"How many roosters are now left?" Dumbledore eventually asked, finally looking up from the dead rooster on his desk.
"Just the two, now," Hagrid said.
"Odd as this may sound, I want one of those roosters kept in the castle at all times. If you could please go and fetch it now, Rubeus. I will inform Professor Kettleburn that he should expect a visitor, so you may bring it directly to him."
"Err, yes Professor," Hagrid said, turning back after almost leaving. "Do yeh still want…" He gestured at the rooster.
"Ah, no, please dispose of it as you see fit," Dumbledore said.
Hagrid took the rooster, cast Harry a curious look, and left. Once the door closed behind him, Harry looked knowingly at Dumbledore.
"Rooster cries are fatal to a Basilisk," he said, having realized as soon as he saw the dead rooster that Dumbledore had made the connection with Hagrid's odd prop.
Dumbledore nodded, and this time he stood up to pace. He got as far as the window, stopping before it to look out at the grounds.
"It has to be a Basilisk," Harry said, and he sounded like he was pleading his case, even though he knew Dumbledore was of the same mindset he was.
He watched the headmaster gazing out the window, but when his focus shifted so that he was looking at Harry through the reflection in the glass, his expression changed. Dumbledore whirled around, his eyes alight, and started making his way back to the desk.
"Please describe, in detail, in what position Sir Nicholas and Mr. Finch-Fletchley were found today."
Harry fixed the image in his mind and described it to Dumbledore.
"Mr. Norris was found in a puddle of water in the dark corridor," Dumbledore then said to Harry. "Mr. Creevy had his camera against one eye, the other eye closed. And from what you've told me, it seems that Mr. Finch-Fletchley was behind Sir Nicholas, but facing the same direction."
It took Harry only the briefest of moments to catch on.
"None of them looked directly at it," he said, and Dumbledore nodded.
"It's at the very least a rather outstanding theory, if I do say so myself," Dumbledore stated. He looked into a random corner of his office, thinking.
Harry was doing the same. He swore he could feel his synapses firing, almost surprised that Dumbledore could not hear the flashes of ideas playing through Harry's mind. Charms, transfigurations, potions, Muggle technology that could withstand the magic in the air at Hogwarts… Harry did not like any of the ideas that came to him. He watched Dumbledore toy with his half-moon glasses resting on his desk, perhaps thinking the same thing that Harry was — that they could try to Charm glasses or some other kind of eyewear and then… what? Find a volunteer who wanted to put them on and wait for the Basilisk to attack, to see if they work? Make a pair for every person (and cat) in Hogwarts? That would still not protect them from being bitten or crushed by the Basilisk.
McGonagall returned to the office in the middle of this silent brainstorming session and made it clear that Dumbledore was needed elsewhere. Harry promised to stay in touch with him, as usual, if he heard anything, while vowing silently to himself to spend every moment available going through the castle from now on in a full-out hunt for the Basilisk.
The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick changed the tone of the castle severely. Many people had been understandably nervous before this, but now the students were downright panicky. Curiously, it was Nearly Headless Nick's fate that seemed to worry people most. What could possibly do that to a ghost? people asked each other; what terrible power could harm someone who was already dead? Many students who had opted to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas now reversed their decision, booking seats home on the Hogwarts Express.
"At this rate, we'll be the only ones left," Ron told Harry and Hermione. "Us, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. What a jolly holiday."
Crabbe and Goyle, who always did whatever Malfoy did, had signed up to stay over the holidays. Harry was glad that most other people were leaving. He had heard nothing of the Basilisk during his night-time prowling of the castle, and hoped that the extra quiet might make any movements stand out more. Plus, he was growing a little tired of putting up with students who still thought he was the one opening the Chamber of Secrets. Harry estimated that these students were in the slight minority in regards to their opinions about Harry, but it still bothered him. He had taken to pushing the envelope with the Hogwarts dress code, accessorizing his outfits and possessions with pins, stickers, and jewellery all attributed to some of his favourite Muggle entertainment. He dialled back on this trend when he realized it was only garnering more attention, and that a lot of people seemed to find Batman and the Energizer Bunny rather confusing, if not sinister-looking, imagery.
Fred and George, however, found all of this very funny. They went out of their way to march ahead of Harry down the corridors, shouting, "Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through…"
Percy was deeply disapproving of this behaviour.
"It is not a laughing matter," he said coldly.
"Oh, get out of the way, Percy," said Fred. "Harry's in a hurry."
"Yeah, he's off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant," said George, chortling.
Ginny did not find it amusing either.
"Oh, don't," she wailed every time Fred asked Harry loudly who he was planning to attack next, or when George pretended to ward Harry off with a large clove of garlic when they met.
Harry didn't mind; it made him feel better that Fred and George, at least, thought the idea of his being Slytherin's heir was quite ludicrous. But their antics seemed to be aggravating Draco Malfoy, who looked increasingly sour each time he saw them at it.
"It's because he's bursting to say it's really him," said Ron knowingly. "You know how he hates anyone beating him at anything, and you're getting all the credit for his dirty work."
"Not for long," said Hermione in a satisfied tone. "The Polyjuice Potion's nearly ready. We'll be getting the truth out of him any day now."
At last the term ended, and a silence deep as the snow on the grounds descended on the castle. Despite the quiet, Harry had no luck finding any sign of the Basilisk. When he was not hunting giant serpents, he enjoyed the fact that he, Hermione, and the Weasleys had the run of Gryffindor Tower, which meant they could play Exploding Snap loudly without bothering anyone, and practice duelling in private. Fred, George, and Ginny had chosen to stay at school rather than visit Bill in Egypt with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
So far, Ginny had impressed Harry in duelling practice, where she showed a strong determination. Ron said it was just because she liked it when Harry worked with her, but Harry thought she showed a real fighting spirit, besting both Fred and George in their last match-up.
Percy, who disapproved of what he termed their childish behaviour, didn't spend much time in the Gryffindor common room. He had already told them pompously that he was only staying over Christmas because it was his duty as a prefect to support the teachers during this troubled time.
Christmas morning dawned, cold and white. Harry was in bed putting the finishing touches on some wrapping he had left until the last moment, while Ron still slept. They were the only ones left in their dormitory, and Harry was sure he had at least an hour before Ron woke up, but then Hermione came bursting in, fully dressed and carrying presents for them both.
"Wake up," she said loudly, pulling back the curtains at the window.
"Hermione — you're not supposed to be in here —" said Ron, shielding his eyes against the light.
"Merry Christmas to you, too," said Hermione, throwing him his present. "I've been up for nearly an hour, adding more lacewings to the potion. It's ready."
Harry's head snapped around. "You added more? Are you sure it's right?" He had just checked on the potion a couple of hours ago. If Hermione had unbalanced it by even the smallest amount, all these weeks of preparation would be for nothing.
"Positive," said Hermione, shirting Scabbers the rat so that she could sit down on the end of Ron's four-poster. "If we're going to do it, I say it should be tonight."
After exchanging and opening presents, they spent a long time socializing in the common room, Fred and George eventually dragging even Percy down to join them. Harry found the day to be his most relaxed and carefree at Hogwarts so far this year, which was the perfect buffer against what they were going to be trying later tonight.
That evening at dinner, Harry and Ron had barely finished their third helpings of Christmas pudding when Hermione ushered them out of the Great Hall to go over their plan one final time.
Hermione had concocted the plan basically on her own, with a bit of help from the boys. A crisis of what Harry considered to be some mild over-confidence on her part was averted when Harry noticed something off about the hair Hermione had said she got off of Millicent Bulstrode after being placed in a headlock.
"This isn't Millicent's hair," Harry had told her after she had shown him the little bottle containing the single hair. "It has spinous scales on the cuticle, see? Human hair doesn't have that kind of pattern." He had tapped his glasses and magnified his view, Hermione gaping at him. "It's probably from her cat. In fact… yes, definitely."
Polyjuice Potion was not designed to work with animal transformations. If Hermione had gone through with ingesting that potion, the results could have been horrific, and even fatal. After that scare, Hermione showed far less annoyance any time Ron or Harry double-checked the potion and plan. Most of the operation stayed the same, though. Crabbe and Goyle needed to be incapacitated in order for Ron and Harry to take their place, so they waited to get hairs from them until that stage of the plan came into effect. Millicent was a different story.
She had signed up to go home on the Hogwarts Express, and while there were other Slytherin girls staying whose hair they could use for Hermione to transform into, they were wary about incapacitating a third Slytherin. So, Harry had hidden under the Invisibility Cloak the morning the train was leaving, and had managed to snag a hair off of Millicent just after she had passed by Snape checking Slytherin names off a clipboard before students got onto the coaches taking them to Hogsmeade. Hermione-as-Millicent could simply tell Malfoy that she had decided to stay at Hogwarts, if he even asked.
Thankfully, stage one of the operation went just as smoothly as Hermione had planned. They lurked in the deserted entrance hall after Christmas tea, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle who had remained alone at the Slytherin table, shovelling down fourth helpings of trifle. Harry had perched chocolate cakes on the end of the banisters, each of them filled with a Sleeping Draught. When they spotted Crabbe and Goyle coming out of the Great Hall, Harry and Ron hid quickly behind a suit of armour next to the front door.
"How thick can you get?" Ron whispered ecstatically as Crabbe gleefully pointed out the cakes to Goyle and grabbed them. Grinning stupidly, they stuffed the cakes whole into their large mouths.
For a moment, both of them chewed greedily, looks of triumph on their faces. After swallowing, Crabbe looked as though he were about to say something, but then his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he crumpled to the floor. Goyle had a brief moment of near-realization where he looked at Crabbe, then to the chocolate crumbs on his fingers. Harry was just about to go to plan B and stun him from across the hall when Goyle swallowed and fell face-first right on top of Crabbe.
After that, they just had to drag them into the closet across the hall, which Harry expedited by grabbing the front of their robes in each hand and practically throwing them in as Ron tried to keep up and keep watch. Once they were safely stowed among the buckets and mops, Harry yanked out a couple of the bristles that covered Goyle's forehead, and Ron pulled out several of Crabbe's hairs. They also stole their shoes, because their own were far too small for Crabbe-and-Goyle-size feet. Elated that the plan was so far going off without a hitch, they locked the closet door and sprinted up to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
They could hardly see for the thick black smoke issuing from the stall in which Hermione was stirring the cauldron.
"Is that normal?" Ron asked, pulling his robe in front of his face to breathe.
"Yeah. No worries," Harry said, then called out, "Hermione?"
They heard the scrape of the lock and Hermione emerged, shiny-faced and looking anxious. Behind her they heard the gloop gloop of the bubbling, glutinous potion. Three glass tumblers stood ready next to it.
"Did you get them?" Hermione asked breathlessly.
Harry showed her Goyle's hair.
"Good. And I sneaked these spare robes out of the laundry," Hermione said, holding up a small sack. "You'll need bigger sizes once you're Crabbe and Goyle."
The three of them stared into the cauldron. Close up, the potion looked like thick, dark mud, bubbling sluggishly.
"I'm sure we've done everything right," said Hermione, nervously rereading the splotched page of Moste Potente Potions. "It looks like the book says it should… once we've drunk it, we'll have exactly an hour before we change back into ourselves."
Harry thought she sounded like she was trying to convince herself aloud, but did not say anything. He agreed that everything seemed correct with the potion.
"Now what?" Ron whispered.
"We separate it into three glasses and add the hairs."
Hermione ladled large dollops of the potion into each of the glasses. Then, her hand trembling, she shook Millicent Bulstrode's hair out of its bottle into the first glass.
The potion hissed loudly like a boiling kettle and frothed madly. A second later, it had turned a sick sort of yellow.
"Urgh — essence of Millicent Bulstrode," said Ron, eyeing it with loathing. "Bet it tastes disgusting."
"Add yours, then," said Hermione.
Harry dropped Goyle's hair into the middle glass and Ron put Crabbe's into the last one. Both glasses hissed and frothed: Goyle's turned the khaki color of a booger, Crabbe's a dark, murky brown.
"Hang on," said Harry as Ron and Hermione reached for their glasses. "We'd better not all drink them in here… Once we turn into Crabbe and Goyle, we won't fit. And Millicent Bulstrode's no pixie."
"Good thinking," said Ron, unlocking the door. "We'll take separate stalls."
Careful not to spill a drop of his Polyjuice Potion, Harry slipped into the middle stall. Now was the moment of truth. If he was being honest with himself, he was not entirely sure if Polyjuice Potion was going to work on him. He had not found any literature for or against the idea, but he was concerned that his healing factor would fight against the transformation. Reminding himself that the Skele-Gro and his Animagus transformations had worked without a hitch, he tried to stay confident.
"Ready?" he called.
"Ready," came Ron's and Hermione's voices.
"One — two —wait!"
"What?" Hermione called out in a panic.
"No, just… we should change first, or we'll rip right through our clothes!"
"Oh, you're right," Hermione said. "Why didn't I think of that? All right, well just be careful not to drop the potion."
The three of them undressed. Harry decided to take everything off just to be careful.
"Full disclosure — I very nearly dropped my glass," Ron shared.
Harry laughed, feeling decidedly weirder about the situation now that he was naked.
"Okay, ready?" Hermione asked. Ron and Harry acknowledged they were. "Here we go… one — two — three!"
Pinching his nose, Harry drank the potion down in two large gulps. It tasted like overcooked cabbage. Immediately, his insides started writhing as though he'd just swallowed live snakes — doubled up, he wondered whether he was going to be sick — then a burning sensation spread rapidly from his stomach to the very ends of his fingers and toes — next, bringing him gasping to all fours, came a horrible melting feeling, as the skin all over his body bubbled like hot wax — and before his eyes, his hands began to grow, the fingers thickened, the nails broadened, the knuckles were bulging like bolts — his shoulders stretched painfully and a prickling on his forehead told him that hair was creeping down toward his eyebrows —his stomach swelled, and all over his body his weight shifted as muscle turned into fat.
As suddenly as it had started, everything stopped. Harry lay facedown on the stone-cold floor, listening to Myrtle gurgling morosely in the end toilet. Awkwardly, he stood up. So this was what it felt like, being Goyle. He did not like it, he felt around for the robes Hermione had gotten from the laundry and pulled them on haphazardly, relief washing over him once he had as much of Goyle's body covered as possible. He laced up Goyle's boat like shoes, then reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes and met only the short growth of wiry bristles, low on his forehead.
"Are you two okay?" Goyle's low rasp of a voice issued from his mouth.
"Yeah," came the deep grunt of Crabbe from his right.
Harry unlocked his door and stepped in front of the cracked mirror. Goyle stared back at him out of dull, deepset eyes. Harry scratched his ear. So did Goyle. Ron's door opened., and they stared at each other. Except that he looked pale and shocked, Ron was indistinguishable from Crabbe, from the pudding-bowl haircut to the long, gorilla arms.
"This is unbelievable," said Ron, approaching the mirror and prodding Crabbe's flat nose. "Unbelievable."
"I can't say I like it," said Harry, loosening the watch that was now cutting into Goyle's thick wrist.
Ron, who had been gazing at Harry, said, "You don't know how bizarre it is to see Goyle thinking." He banged on Hermione's door.
"C'mon, we need to go —"
Harry knew at once that something was wrong. He had felt a sense of panic from the moment his own transformation had taken place, just thinking that it was his own nerves. Now, he realized that the emotion had been radiating from Hermione, and was continuing to rise to concerning levels.
"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry called, putting his hand on the stall door.
Fast, somewhat pained breathing was the only sound returning from the stall. Harry and Ron shared concerned looks.
"Hermione?"
She gave no indication that she had even heard him. When there was a sound like she had crumpled to the floor, followed by an odd moaning, Harry knew what he had to do.
"Hermione, I'm coming in. I'm sorry if… I — I'm coming in!"
He looked at Ron, the pair of them grimacing, but knowing there was no other way. Harry popped the door open, breaking the lock as he did so, but then pushed the door slowly the rest of the way. When he saw what was in the stall, it felt like every system in his body just… shut down. He wished he could have closed his eyes, but for a solid four seconds, no part of him was functioning. Finally, his legs started walking backwards of their own accord until Goyle's fat bottom hit the sink behind him.
Ron, clearly concerned, whipped around to peer in, and him blocking the view was the only thing that snapped Harry back in control of himself. When his brain came fully back online, it immediately began postulating methods to somehow erase this moment from his cursedly-perfect memory.
"Fucking hell," Ron splurted in a trembling voice. He too backed slowly away from the scene, clearing the way for Harry to lay eyes yet again on the horrifying image.
He understood now what must have happened when he had thought he was pulling one of Millicent Bulstrode's hairs from her robes. Like Hermione, he had been too careless and confident, but unlike Hermione, who had inadvertently grabbed a cat hair, Harry had done something far worse.
Sitting on the floor of the stall, adorned only in Hermione's pink knickers, was the body of Severus Snape. Ron was now backing up as well, knocking into Harry with his elbow as he covered Crabbe's face with his hands, as if that would somehow help block from existence what was taking place. Snape's — no, Hermione's, Harry had to remind himself — Hermione's eyes were shut tight, her mouth open in what looked like a tortured sob, pitiful sounds escaping, as her whole body shook. She was having a full-blown anxiety attack, Harry now realized, and he could not blame her. A small mirror lay on the toilet tank, which Hermione must have used to see what she had become.
"What… whudda we do?" Ron barely managed to ask, staring at the scene from between his fingers.
Harry considered trying to console Hermione, but picturing any part of doing so made him want to wretch, and he doubted it would do any good for her anyway. The simplest and quickest solution seemed to be the best choice…
"Stupefy!" Harry called, hitting Snape-Hermione in the chest, the Stunning Spell knocking her out at once, Snape's ugly body going limp.
As Ron stared in shock, Harry took Millicent Bulstrode's laundered robes and carefully draped them over Hermione.
"We'll revive her when we get back," Harry said, after a moment of composing himself. He went and grabbed his own robes and made them into a makeshift pillow, which he put under Hermione's head, immediately regretting having done so at the feel of Snape's oily hair. He rushed to a sink and scrubbed furiously before closing Hermione's stall door and sealing it with his wand. Doing so felt good — like excising a nasty weed from a garden.
For a few moments, Harry and Ron just stood in the bathroom. Harry knew they needed to hurry on with the plan without Hermione, but neither of them was ready. Finally, Ron lowered his hands from Crabbe's face, working to control his breathing.
"We have to go," Harry said.
"Yeah. All right," Ron agreed, but they continued looking at one another for a couple of moments before fully regrouping with nods of determination.
Harry looked at his watch. Far too many of their precious sixty minutes had already passed. They opened the door of the bathroom carefully, checked that the coast was clear, and set off.
"Don't swing your arms like that," Harry muttered to Ron as they walked.
"Eh?"
"Crabbe holds them sort of stiff…"
"How's this?"
"Yeah, that's better…"
They went down the marble staircase and across the hall towards the entrance to the dungeons.
Harry and Ron hurried down the stone steps into the darkness, their footsteps echoing particularly loudly as Crabbe's and Goyle's big feet hit the floor.
They walked deeper and deeper under the school, constantly checking their watches to see how much time they had left. Glad for his habitual explorations of the castle, Harry led them through the labyrinthine passages towards the entrance to the Slytherin common room. With just a few more turns remaining, they heard a sudden movement ahead.
A figure was emerging from a side room. As they came nearer, they saw that it was Percy Weasley.
"What're you doing down here?" said Ron in surprise.
Percy looked affronted.
"That," he said stiffly, "is none of your business. It's Crabbe, isn't it?"
"Wh — oh, erm… yeah," said Ron.
"Well, get off to your dormitories," said Percy sternly. "It's not safe to go wandering around dark corridors these days."
"Got it," Harry said, cutting Ron off from what Harry was worried would be a too-sibling-like retort.
A voice suddenly echoed behind Harry and Ron. Draco Malfoy was strolling toward them, and for the first time in his life, Harry was pleased to see him.
"There you are," he drawled, looking at them. "Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I've been looking for you; I want to show you something really funny."
Malfoy glanced witheringly at Percy. "And what're you doing down here, Weasley?" he sneered.
Percy looked outraged.
"You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect!" he said. "I don't like your attitude!"
Malfoy sneered and motioned for Harry and Ron to follow him. Harry almost said something apologetic to Percy but caught himself just in time. He and Ron hurried after Malfoy, who said as they turned into the next passage, "That Peter Weasley —"
"Percy," Ron corrected him automatically.
"Whatever," said Malfoy. "I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single-handed."
He gave a short, derisive laugh. Harry and Ron exchanged excited looks.
Malfoy paused by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall.
"What's the new password again?" he said to Harry.
"Er —" said Harry. This was the one thing he did not know.
"Oh, yeah — pure-blood !" said Malfoy, not listening, and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open. Malfoy marched through it, and Harry and Ron followed him.
The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs.
"Wait here," said Malfoy to Harry and Ron, motioning them to a pair of empty chairs set back from the fire. "I'll go and get it — my father's just sent it to me —"
Wondering what Malfoy was going to show them, Harry and Ron sat down, doing their best to look at home. Harry found the similarities and differences between this and the Gryffindor common room interesting, and decided he would definitely need to visit the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff common rooms in the future.
Malfoy came back a minute later, holding what looked like a newspaper clipping. He thrust it under Ron's nose.
"That'll give you a laugh," he said.
Harry saw Ron's eyes widen in shock. He read the clipping quickly, gave a very forced laugh, and handed it to Harry. It had been clipped out of the Daily Prophet, and it said:
QUIDDITCH CELEBRATION BAFFLES MUGGLE COMMUNITY
Following what Manchester Manticores fans are calling their greatest victory since their famed 1906 upset of League stalwarts the Tutshill Tornados, the Ministry of Magic is working overtime with Memory Charms to undo the multiple breaches of the Statute of Secrecy fans inadvertently caused during their post-match festivities.
"It's just a bit of fun, innit?" remarked Manticore fan Peter Postlethwaite when questioned about the events of 3 December by our reporter. "It's no harm done!"
Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, disagreed with Mr. Postlethwaite. Weasley was assigned to coordinate with Obliviators in the predominantly Muggle area in which several uses of magic occurred in direct observation of Muggles, including two illegally-Charmed Muggle automobiles which Weasley says were charmed to explode at the first contact with bird excrement.
"Bird poop is no laughing matter," was Mr. Weasley's statement when asked about the occurrence, leading some to wonder how seriously he was taking his job.
"This isn't the first time Weasley's competence has been questioned," said Mr. Lucius Malfoy, a governor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where his son Draco is something of a Quidditch star himself. "Some say he's so fond of Muggles that he's actually in favour of repealing the Statute of Secrecy which, if true, makes him clearly unfit to hold his position within the Ministry."
Mr. Weasley was unavailable for comment, although his wife told reporters to clear off or she'd set the family ghoul on them.
"Well?" said Malfoy impatiently as Harry handed the clipping back to him. "Don't you think it's funny?"
"The one part is really funny," said Harry bleakly. He did not clarify that it was the part about Malfoy being a Quidditch star that would have made him laugh out loud if not for the content of the rest of the article.
"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them," said Malfoy scornfully. "You'd never know the Weasleys were purebloods, the way they behave."
Ron's — or rather, Crabbe's — face was contorted with fury.
"What's up with you, Crabbe?" snapped Malfoy.
"Stomach-ache," Ron grunted.
"Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me," said Malfoy, snickering. "You know, I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet," he went on thoughtfully. "I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns. A decent headmaster would never have et slime like that Creevey in."
Malfoy started taking pictures with an imaginary camera and did a cruel but accurate impression of Colin: "'Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?'"
He dropped his hands and looked at Harry and Ron.
"What's the matter with you two?"
Far too late, Harry and Ron forced themselves to laugh, and even though their hearts were clearly not in it, Malfoy seemed satisfied; perhaps Crabbe and Goyle were always slow on the uptake.
"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," said Malfoy slowly. "He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped-up Granger Mudblood. And people think he's Slytherin's heir!"
Harry and Ron waited with bated breath: Malfoy was surely seconds away from telling them it was him — but then —
"I wish I knew who it is," said Malfoy petulantly. "I could help them."
Ron's jaw dropped so that Crabbe looked even more clueless than usual. Fortunately, Malfoy didn't notice, and Harry, thinking fast, said, "You must have some idea who's behind it all…"
"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?" snapped Malfoy. "And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing — last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them is killed this time… I hope it's Granger," he added with relish.
It took all Harry had to not crush Malfoy's nose into his face. He halfway hoped that Ron would have less self-control and throttle Malfoy with Crabbe's gigantic fists, which Ron was now clenching. But, thinking about how upset Hermione would be if the two of them ruined her plan, Harry quickly asked, "D'you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?"
"Oh, yeah… whoever it was was expelled," said Malfoy. "They're probably still in Azkaban. Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"
Harry tried to force Goyle's dull face into a look of concern.
"Yeah…" said Malfoy. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor —"
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron's mouth drop open, and flicked his hand to magic it shut, getting the feeling that Ron was about to respond to Draco having given them such damning information. When Harry looked over at him, Ron's sheepish expression seemed to confirm as much, but that was not made Harry's eyes widen in alarm.
Ron's face was not the only thing turning red. His hair was showing shades of ginger, and his nose was also slowly lengthening. Harry checked his watch. Their hour was up. Ron was turning back into himself, and from the look of horror he was suddenly giving Harry, he must be, too. They both jumped to their feet.
"Medicine for my stomach," Ron grunted, and without further ado they sprinted the length of the Slytherin common room, hurled themselves at the stone wall, and dashed up the passage, hoping against hope that Malfoy hadn't noticed anything. Harry could feel his skin bubbling again, and had to work to keep himself moving, helping Ron to do the same; they crashed up the steps into the dark entrance hall, which was full of a muffled pounding coming from the closet where they'd locked Crabbe and Goyle. Leaving the shoes outside the closet door, they sprinted in their socks up the marble staircase toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
"Well, it wasn't a complete waste of time," Ron panted, closing the bathroom door behind them. "I know we still haven't found out who's doing the attacks, but I'm going to write to Dad tomorrow and tell him to check under the Malfoys' drawing room."
"Yeah, a silver lining, for sure," Harry agreed.
They both went straight to the stall in which they had left Hermione. After calling for her and getting no response, Harry pushed the door open, at first greatly relieved to see that she was back to her usual self, and then again to see that she was still unconscious.
"Thank the stars," Ron said in a sigh.
"I'm going to wake her up," Harry said, taking out his wand. "Rennervate!"
Hermione took a sharp intake of breath, and her eyes popped open. For a moment, she stared at the ceiling, seeming to get her bearings. When her mind caught up to current events, she gave a great start at moved to sit up. Harry had to grab Millicent's robes and pull them up on her chest.
"It's all right! It's all right! You're back to normal!" he reassured her. "Here, look!"
He grabbed the mirror and held it in front of her. Still breathing heavily, Hermione searched her face, poking at her skin and feeling her hair. She pulled back the robes and looked down at her body, her breathing began to slow as the relief started to kick in. She searched Ron's and Harry's faces.
"W-what happened?" she asked, still confused.
"I don't want to tell you," Harry said. "Because, if there's a chance you forgot it… that would be a good thing."
She looked at him somewhat quizzically, then seemed to fully take in the position she was in. Her face changed. "I didn't forget. Now, can I get dressed?" she said a little testily.
Ron grunted affirmatively and left the stall at once. Harry stood up and paused, even as Hermione looked at him from the floor, clearly waiting for him to leave. Instead, he knelt back down.
"I'm sorry. This was my fault," he said sincerely.
Hermione looked into his eyes for a few moments, still clutching the robes to her chest. Her expression softened.
"If you hadn't caught the cat hair, I could have died…" she said sincerely. She then let go of the robes with one hand and grabbed the front of Harry's robes with it, pulling him a few inches closer. "… which might have been better," she said seriously, but with enough emphasis that Harry recognized it at dark humour.
He smiled and shook his head, then grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet with him, prompting a little "Oop!" from her as he did so. Harry let her go and turned to leave, but stopped again to add one more thing.
"It's up to you, of course, but considering… well, if it were me, I would burn to ashes — and then vanish the ashes — anything that came into contact with…" He gestured towards Hermione's middle, but then widened the motion to not draw further attention to her already somewhat exposed body.
Hermione looked down at herself, thought for a second, and then shivered. "Yes," she said, pushing Harry out of the stall at once. He heard Millicent's robes hit the floor before the door was even closed behind him, and then the sound of her knickers doing the same, followed by a clear "Incendio!"