Open,' Harry commanded, staring expectantly at the snake engraved tap.
'It doesn't work if you don't speak to snakes,' Myrtle giggled, drifting unusually far from the safety of her cubicle.
'I can speak to snakes,' Harry defended.
'Well you were only speaking English. I never did say thank you for killing the monster down there,' Myrtle smiled shyly. 'You're my hero Harry.'
'Er, thanks Myrtle.' He tried not to edge away from the ghost as she drifted uncomfortably close. He didn't like anyone getting too close to him. There was something that felt wrong about it, whether they were dead or alive.
Picturing a snake in his head, a particular fire-conjured one, Harry tried again. 'Open,' he repeated. The tap shuddered and the sinks split apart to reveal the entrance.
'That's more like it,' Myrtle cheered. It was the first time Harry had really seen her so happy and the expression was actually quite flattering.
'It sounds the same to me,' Harry confessed. 'I can't tell if I'm speaking parseltongue on my own.'
'That was definitely parseltongue,' Myrtle answered, still cheerful. 'It sounded just like before,' her face fell, 'when he came.'
'Sorry,' Harry apologised. 'I didn't mean to remind you.'
'That's ok, Harry. You weren't the one responsible. I blame that Olive Hornby more than him anyway.' Myrtle's face became a picture of loathing at the mention of the nemesis of her school days.
He stepped towards the pipe, giving the slimy inside a rather disgusted look. Harry had forgotten about the condition of the pipe. It hadn't exactly mattered last time he had come down here.
'There are steps, you know.' Myrtle hovered over the entrance, peering down into the pipe. 'The red-haired girl who spoke in his voice would make steps.'
Harry cast a sceptical glance down the pipe. It didn't really look like steps would even fit, but it was worth a try.
'Stairs,' he hissed, presumably in parseltongue, as the pipe twisted away to reveal a rather dusty, dark staircase.
Harry followed the small set of footsteps down through the dust. They were probably Ginny's. The idea of little, shy Ginny wandering down here towards a basilisk under the influence of Tom Riddle was worse than disturbing and Harry was more glad than ever he had driven that fang through the diary.
The stairs led to a door that was identical to the second one he had encountered on his last visit. It opened at his hissed command and he set foot inside the Chamber of Secrets for a second time.
Somehow the stairs led to exactly the same entrance as the pipe, something Harry put down to magic. If Salazar Slytherin was capable of creating a basilisk, hatching it, keeping it, and building a chamber for it, he could easily manage a little space manipulation.
Bones crunched beneath his feet as his strode forwards far more confidently than he had done last time. The giant snake skin still sprawled across the floor, but it's green gleam and faded to a dull white. Beyond it, though, the body of the basilisk lay untarnished. It's bright, poisonous green scales were every bit as iridescent as they had been before.
Harry could barely take his eyes off it.
How did I manage to survive that monster, let alone kill it?
It was even bigger than he remembered. Sixty feet had been the guess of a terrified child. Harry estimated it at more like seventy or eighty. Its fangs were the length of his forearm and about as wide at their base.
King of serpents indeed.
It was identical to the two snakes he had conjured, albeit much larger than both.
Tracing his fingertips along its scaly hide he walked along its length, marvelling at the creature he had slain. He almost regretted killing it. His inner Hagrid showing itself briefly before he remembered exactly what the serpent was here for and ruthlessly suppressed it.
The rest of the chamber was as he had left it from the serpent effigies along the walls to the ink stain where the memory of Tom Riddle had met its well deserved end. He gave the dark blotch an ugly glare. For all his brilliance and his charm there had been something about Tom Riddle that had been just as inhuman as the basilisk he set on his fellow students.
Stepping past the ink stain he moved to stand before the giant bust at the end of the chamber. The features did not seem particularly evil, or even remarkable in any way. Had he come across the likeness in a less spectacular manner Harry might not have looked twice.
Running his eyes over the vast likeness of Salazar Slytherin he tried to remember what exactly Tom Riddle had said to summon the serpent.
'Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four.'
The mouth of the huge bust opened with stony scraping and for a brief moment Harry feared he might have just released a second basilisk and be forced to repeat his feat, but nothing slithered from the mouth of the founder.
There was a very long silence as Harry stared at the statue, trying to decide what to do, then, from within in came a distinctly unimpressed voice. 'What a ridiculous way to open the door, it responds to virtually any command in parseltongue, you know.'
It took a moment for Harry to get over the shock at hearing another voice in the chamber. He firmly reminded himself that whoever it was it could not be Tom Riddle, since not only had he been stabbed by a basilisk fang but whoever was speaking was ridiculing the open phrase he had used.
'And no,' the mysterious voice continued rather petulantly, 'I won't speak to you.' Harry did a rather sharp double take.
That can't possibly be the voice of Salazar Slytherin.
Whomever it was, childish Salazar Slytherin or not, there was no way Harry could resist going to look. He did rather wish there wasn't a small lake in the way, though.
'Bridge,' he ordered, half-heartedly. He had been rather resigned himself to getting wet and so was pleasantly surprised when a rather old, stone bridge rose from the pool.
It was a carven likeness of a serpent's tongue, extending as if from the mouth of Slytherin himself.
Hesitantly he put one foot on the forked tip of the tongue.
'Oh, by all means come in,' the voice started up again sarcastically. 'I'd like another visitor, my only other company has been that insane reptile and a vengeful child with delusions of grandeur.'
Pride wasn't Harry's strongest trait, but he'd had quite enough of being mocked by the stupid voice. He strode swiftly across the tongue-bridge and through into the inside of Slytherin's mouth.
.
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