"Yes, what do you want?" asked the ghost, looking grumpy.
"I was wondering if you could tell me how you died," he asked slowly.
"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then -" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I died."
"How?" said Harry, narrowing his eyes, his mind working furiously as he put the pieces together
"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes by that sink. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away…"
"Has someone else come to ask you about this?" asked Harry, going by a hunch. "Maybe Dumbledore…"
"Don't mention him in front of me!" screeched Myrtle angrily. "I hate that man! If he could control his precious Gryffindors better I would never have died! But no, Dumbledore always favoured his little lions. No one cared about poor Myrtle. No, even after I died, Hornby got away with it all, didn't she? Dumbledore ensured that she wasn't given any punishment. The last time Dumbledore tried to talk to me I ensured that he didn't sleep for weeks as I pestered him, blaming him for my death. I won't speak to him, now or ever. He doesn't care about poor, moping, Moaning Myrtle."
Harry blinked his eyes rapidly, processing that information. No wonder Snape got away with favouring the Slytherins so blatantly. Dumbledore used to do the same with the Gryffindors. Was it any wonder that House rivalry was as bad as it was with people like them in charge?
" Open," said Harry, slipping easily into Parseltongue like it was second nature to him. The tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move; the sink, in fact, sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for five people to slide into. His wand slipped out of its holster and into his waiting hand. Taking a deep breath, Harry jumped into the pipe.
It was like rushing down a dark, slimy slide. The light from the tip of his wand gave off an eerie image. Harry could see many other pipes which were branching off in several directions - Daphne's theory was right. The basilisk had been using the plumbing that had been installed in the castle to launch its attacks. It really was a brilliant design on Salazar's part. Plumbing had not been invented in the Muggle world at that time, but even though it was not necessary for magical castles, Salazar had adapted the technique to use it to deploy the basilisk. He cast the momentum arresting charm on himself as the end of the pipe neared and landed gracefully on both feet, eyes vigilant.
" Scourgify," he cast silently and all the slime that had gathered on his face and clothes disappeared, leaving him clean.
He was in some sort of wet tunnel. They were probably under the lake and he grimaced when he stepped on a mountain of fish bones. His body went stiff when he saw the snakeskin. It looked black from the distance but would shine a dark, blackish green when the light fell on it. There was a lot of shed skin here and he didn't even want to think about the size of the basilisk. He walked for a couple of minutes when he reached a great stone wall with two snakes intertwined. The eyes of the snakes were glittering emeralds.
" Open," hissed Harry.
The massive stone wall parted, giving him entry, as his hands shook slightly due to fear. Reinforcing his mental shields, Harry walked inside the Chamber of Secrets.
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