Chapter Thirty Six – First Attack

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros and some other high falutin' companies. Me, I'm just a PR professional. I don't profess to own - and would never dream of making any money off - JKR's wonderful world. However, its her sandbox and she's left the gate unlatched so we can go in and play a bit. Which, I've done.

Chapter Thirty Six – First Attack

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-==(oIo)==-

\""/

October faded to the end of the month when the annual Halloween Feast was to be held. Thankfully, it was on a Saturday, this year.

Harry spent the day walking with Daphne along the edge of the lake for a while, then with the others in the Come and Go Room. HI was quite maudlin for a while but the others did their best to lift his spirits.

This year, Harry was not 'summoned' by the Headmaster to attend the feast. Clearly, the man could actually learn his lesson. However, he couldn't sleep either. So, he went for a walk down to look in on the feast.

And then Harry heard it.

§ Rip - tear - kill... §

It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice he had heard in dungeons.

He stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all his might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.

§ Sooo hungry - for so long... §

'What is that?' he thought.

§ Kill - time to kill... §

The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving closer - moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped him as he stared at the floor. Was it a phantom, to whom stone floors didn't matter?

He began to run, down the stairs. It was no good hoping to hear anything here, the babble of talk from the Halloween feast was echoing out of the Great Hall. Harry sprinted down stairs to the first floor.

Stopping suddenly he strained his ears. Distantly, from the floor below, and growing fainter still, he heard the voice: § - I smell blood - I SMELL BLOOD!§

His stomach lurched. 'It's going to kill someone!' he thought, taking the next flight of steps three at a time, trying to listen over his own pounding footsteps. Harry hurtled around the whole of the second floor, not stopping until he turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

Something was shining on the wall ahead. He approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches. THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE.

As he edged nearer, he almost slipped - there was a large puddle of water on the floor; eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath the torches. He realised what it was at once, and leapt backward with a splash. Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

For a few seconds, he didn't move. He knew he should run and get help; but, it was already too late for that.

A rumble told him that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where he stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; next moment, students were entering the passage from both ends.

The chatter, bustle and noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight.

Then someone shouted through the quiet. "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.

"So, this was you, Malfoy?" snarled Harry.

"What?" stammered the boy; the flush rapidly fading, again. "No! - I..."

"What's going on here? What's going on?" Attracted no doubt by Malfoy's shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked.

And his popping eyes fell on Harry.

"You!" he screeched. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll..."

"Argus!"

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other Professors. In seconds, he had swept past Harry and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mister Potter."

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 pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape. Harry was joined by Daphne while his other friends hung back.

As they entered Lockhart's darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore lay Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry and Daphne exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching.

The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs. Norris's fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: It was as though he was trying hard not to smile. And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making suggestions.

"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 counter curse that would have saved her."

Lockhart's comments were punctuated by Filch's dry, racking sobs.

He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs. Norris, his face in his hands. Much as he detested Filch, Harry couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for him; though, not nearly as sorry as he felt for himself if Dumbledore believed Filch. He would be expelled for sure.

Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand but nothing happened. She continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed.

"... I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogou," said Lockhart. "A series of attacks - the full story's in my autobiography - I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once."

The photographs of Lockhart on the walls were all nodding in agreement as he talked. One of them had forgotten to remove his hair net.

At last Dumbledore straightened up. "She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.

"Not dead?" choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris. "But why's she all - all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been Petrified," said Dumbledore "But how, I cannot say..."

"Ask him!" shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Harry.

"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 spat, his pouchy face purpling. "You saw what he wrote on the wall!"

"I never touched your cat!" Harry said loudly, uncomfortably aware of everyone looking at him, including all the Lockharts on the walls.

"Rubbish!" snarled Filch.

"If I might speak, Headmaster," said Snape from the shadows, and Harry's sense of foreboding increased; he was sure nothing Snape had to say was going to do him any good.

"Potter may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though 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?"

Harry snarled back, "You already know the answer to that."

"But why go up to that corridor?" asked Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight.

The others looked at Harry.

"Because - because... " Harry said, his heart thumping very fast; something told him it would sound very far-fetched if he told them he had been led there by a bodiless voice no one but he could hear, "...because I wasn't tired enough but wanted to go to bed."

"Without any supper?" said Snape, a triumphant smile flickering across his gaunt face.

"I've had more than enough experience of going to bed hungry, Professor," replied Harry with a growl.

"I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," said Snape. "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 Ravenclaw Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest."

"Really, Professor Snape," said Harry sharply, "Do you feel I hit the cat over the head with a broomstick? You have no evidence I've done anything wrong. I just happened upon the scene before everyone else."

Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Harry feel as though he were being X-rayed.

Feeling the attempted Legilimency probe, Harry growled at the old man, "Get out of my bloody head!"

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," said Dumbledore firmly, ignoring the accusation.

Snape looked furious. So did Filch.

"My cat has been petrified!" he shrieked, his eyes popping. "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 Missus Norris."

"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep."

"Excuse me," said Snape icily. "But I believe I am the Potions Master at this school."

There was a very awkward pause.

"You may go," Dumbledore said to Harry and Daphne.

"Well, thank you ever so much, Headmaster," said Harry not a little sarcastically. "And, all of you, please be aware I do not take kindly to slander and libel levelled towards me."

They went, and were met outside the door by the other five. When they were far enough away from Lockhart's office, they turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind them.

Harry squinted at his friends' darkened faces. "Do you think I should have told them about that voice I've been hearing?"

"No," said Daphne, without hesitation. "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world."

Something in Daphne's voice made Harry ask, "You do believe me, don't you?"

"'Of course I do," she said. "But, you must admit, it's quite odd."

"I know it's odd," said Harry. "The whole thing's just plain 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," said Tracey slowly. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once."

A clock chimed somewhere.

"Midnight," said Harry. "We'd better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame me for something else."

_‗_

-==(oIo)==-

\""/

For a few days, the school could talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. Harry had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with Missus Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone.

When Filch wasn't guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like 'breathing loudly' and 'looking happy.'

"Stuff like this isn't supposed to happen at Hogwarts," said Susan. "They'll catch the maniac who did it and have him out of here in no time."

"I just hope he's got time to petrify Filch before he or she is expelled," said Neville before he raised his hand in mock surrender from the glares he got. "I'm only joking..."

The attack had also had an effect on Hermione. It was quite usual for Hermione to spend a lot of time reading, but she was now doing almost nothing else. Nor could Harry or the others get much response from her when they asked what she was up to, and not until the following Wednesday did they find out.

Harry had been held back in Potions, where Snape had made him stay behind to scrape tubeworms off the desks. After a hurried late lunch, he went upstairs to meet the others in the library, and saw Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Hufflepuff boy from Herbology, coming toward him. Harry had just opened his mouth to say hello when Justin caught sight of him, turned abruptly, and sped off in the opposite direction.

Harry found the others at the back of the library at their usual table. Some were working on their History of Magic homework. Professor Binns had asked for a three foot long composition on 'The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards.'

"I'm still three inches short," said Neville, sighing and letting go of his parchment. "And Hermione's done four feet seven inches and her writing's tiny."

"Where is she?" asked Harry, working on his own homework.

"Somewhere over there," said Neville, pointing along the shelves. "Looking for another book. I think she's trying to read the whole library before Christmas."

Harry told the others about Justin Finch-Fletchley running away from him.

"I don't know why you care. I thought he was a bit of an idiot," said Tracey, writing away. "All that junk about Lockhart being so great..."

Hermione emerged from between the bookshelves. She looked irritable and at last seemed ready to talk to them.

"All the copies of 'Hogwarts: A History' have been taken out," she said, sitting down next to Neville and Tracey. "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."

"Where's the copy I loaned you?" said Harry.

"I - left it in my trunk upstairs" she groaned. "I wanted to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets but didn't think to grab it and bring it down."

"Oh!" said Harry, before searching his memories for that particular book. "Let's see - Last believed opened in May 1943 by Fourth Year Gryffindor, Rubeus Hagrid, who was then expelled a month later. A Ravenclaw Fifth Year, Myrtle Malone, was killed, yet no mark or spell residue - other than spells she had cast herself - was found on her body during the autopsy.

"The story goes that Slytherin had built on his own behalf 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.

"The horror is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control. If that's the case, then it's likely to be a snake of some sort. After all, the snake was his animal of choice as he was a parseltongue - Hang on, that doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't make sense?" ask Hermione, first in.

"Hagrid was expelled from Hogwarts because he was believed to have opened the Chamber of Secrets. The one who reported it to be Hagrid was Tom Marvolo Riddle..." both Neville and Daphne gasped. "... a, then, Sixth Year Slytherin. Riddle was awarded an award for Special Services to the School, which then led to him becoming Head Boy the next year. Riddle said Hagrid did it because Hagrid had as a pet an acromantula.

"However, if it was supposedly the acromantula that killed the girl, then it would have left a spider bite on her body somewhere. Miss Malone's body was, apparently, unmarked."

"So, Hagrid was falsely accused and expelled," said Susan, affronted. She, being the niece of the Head of the DMLE, was always upset if there was a hint of someone being falsely held accountable of a crime.

"So," said Hermione, "We know Hagrid didn't open the Chamber. Perhaps we should contact the DMLE about that."

"And how do we prove it?" asked Harry. "It's only our logical suspicions that Hagrid is innocent, after all."

"And it'll take a lot more than that to get the case reheard," sighed Susan.

"We need more evidence," said Tracey. "But, we're now talking about a case that occurred coming up on fifty years ago."

"We need to find the Chamber," said Daphne. "Then we'll discover just what the horror supposedly is."

"Slytherin's true heir..." muttered Harry. "It sounds like they mean the Heir Apparent."

"Why the Heir Apparent?" asked Neville.

"Because just about every Ancient House, I guess, would have some of Slytherin's blood in their history," replied Harry. "We - meaning you, Daphne and I - already know that the Gaunts claimed direct descendance from Slytherin. And, I happen to know that the Blacks, Longbottoms and Potters have at least one Gaunt in their bloodline.

"That means, if the Gaunts were direct descendants, then I'm probably a very much removed descendant of Slytherin; as is, Neville, Sirius and Malfoy; that I know of. It will probably be the same for most, if not all, of the Ancient Houses and many of the lesser Houses."

"I'm a Slytherin?" near-squeaked Neville.

Harry grinned and said, "No, Neville; just a minor heir. A Gaunt female married into Potter House about five hundred years ago. The granddaughter of that union married into Longbottom House about fifty years later.

"I daresay the same applies to Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff with the blood diffusion among the Houses similar to Slytherin. Think about how many magicals there were in the isles back in the Tenth and Eleventh Centuries and you'll have an idea as to why I believe I'm right."

"So," said Hermione. "Getting back on track, you believe the true heir would be the Heir Apparent."

"Yes," replied Harry. "However, just as I'm Heir Presumptive for House Black - yet I'm a Potter - it doesn't necessarily mean it will be the one who is closest through bloodlines to the original line of Slytherin."

"So, there's no way to figure it out by referring to the Book of Bloodlines in the Heritage Office in the Ministry," sighed Hannah.

"No," mused Harry. "But, it may be a good place to start."

"We'll contact Father," said Daphne. "And ask him if he can narrow it down a little for us."

"Ummm - there might be a little problem with that," said Harry.

"Oh? Why?" asked Daphne.

"That depends on the answer to this question: Does the Book of Bloodlines recognise such bloodlines if a magical person is born from a long line of squibs?" he asked.

"I - don't know," said Daphne, realising Harry was referring to Hermione, for instance. The others, except Hermione, all shrugged or indicated they didn't know either.

"But, still," said Hannah. "It's a place to start."

"I think the Ministry doesn't recognise an heir if the line has squibbed for more than three generations," said Susan.

"But does magic recognise an heir, even if the Ministry doesn't?" asked Hermione.

No one had an answer for that. But, Harry and Daphne both hoped they'd find out at Christmas.

Letters written, the group had no time to attack other homework before afternoon classes. So, they organised to meet up in the Room to go over homework together.

_‗_

-==(oIo)==-

\""/

After class and in their Room, the Seven quickly started working on homework. Harry, Susan and Hannah had Astronomy that night, and all three wanted to get an evening nap in, so they only had until dinner to get done what they needed to get done.

"I've been thinking," said Hermione.

"Oh, that's dangerous sign," said Neville with a smirk to take the sting out of the words.

Hermione just poked her tongue out at him and turned to Harry. "You said the girl's name who was killed the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened was Myrtle Malone, right?"

"Right," said Harry, wondering where she was going with this.

"Well, there's a girl's bathroom right next to where Mrs Norris was petrified. That's where all the water came from," she said.

"Alright..." he said.

"Well, the reason there's often water in that corridor is because there's a ghost who often haunts that particular girl's bathroom," she continued. "She's constantly doing things such as blocking up the toilets and hand basins and turning all the taps on."

"Sorry, I'm still not see - Wait," said Tracey. "That's Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, isn't it?"

"Yes. Moaning Myrtle," replied Hermione. "The ghost of a young witch wearing near-modern Ravenclaw robes."

"Well, Susan, Hannah and I have Astronomy tonight and an early nap to look forward to," said Harry. "Do you others think you can go and have a bit of a chat with her?"

"Errr - umm..." blushed Neville.

"It's okay, Neville," said Hermione. "You can stay outside and keep an eye out."

He sheepishly nodded trying to get his embarrassment under control.

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-==(oIo)==-

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The next afternoon, Harry met with Tracey and Daphne at lunch to go over a prank idea against the blonde woodpecker. As Lockhart was fond of using the Teeth Flashing Charm, and probably the Hair Coiffuring Charm, that was in the book of which Harry owl-ordered two copies early last year, he decided it might be a good idea to turn the tables on the man.

"So, which ones do you think we need to use?" asked an eager Tracey.

"I'm going with the Teeth Glint Charm, Eye Sparkle Charm and Hair Volume Charm," said Harry. "Might I suggest one of you girls go with the same teeth charm and the Windblown Charm?"

"That's me," said Daphne. "I think my blonde hair will look better in the limited light in the classroom."

"And, I'm going for the Moist Lips Charm, Hair Volume Charm and Blush Charm," said Tracey with a grin.

"Right," said Harry, taking mental note of all that. "Now, I'm going to go tell the Devil Twins what I'm up to. I have a feeling they haven't thought of doing something like this, so they might want to do the same thing when next they have a class with him." With a grin he was up and across to see the Weasley twins.

"Gred, Forge," he said as he found a spare spot opposite them to sit.

"Harrikins!" they said in stereo.

"What can Gred and Forge..."

"... pranksters extraordinaire..."

"... do for the Great Harry Potter..."

"... slayer of ladies hearts?"

"Oh-kay!" said Harry, not knowing what that last bit meant. "Daphne, Tracey and I are going to prank Flophart in DADA straight after lunch. We're going to be using a lot of those little beauty and photogenic cantrips out of my copy of that book I bought the two of you."

Both twins grinned and said in gleeful stereo, "Harrikins!"

"I just thought you'd like to know in case you were about to unleash a Weasley prank on the woodpecker," said Harry

The twins looked at each other and, coming to a decision, turned back to Harry. "We have one ready to go..."

"... but not until tomorrow night."

"Excellent," said Harry. "Now we just need to keep the pressure up."

He was just getting up when they both reached out and pulled him down again.

He looked at them questioningly.

"Are you aware that the student body believes..."

"... you to be the one who petrified Mrs Norris?"

Harry snorted in disgust and said, "Snape tried to claim I did it, too. Dumbledore shot him down fast, though."

"So what..."

"... really happened?"

"I will not attend a feast that celebrates my parent's murder," replied Harry firmly. "I would have liked to have been asleep in my bed. However, I couldn't sleep. So, I went for a walk.

"I was heading down to peer into the Great Hall to see if I could get an idea as to how long it had to go when I heard - noises - coming from within the walls. I tracked those noises to that second floor corridor and found exactly what you saw; water all over the floor, and Mrs Norris hanging petrified from the torch sconce."

"Thank you..."

"... for telling us..."

"Harrikins," they solemnly said together.

Harry returned to his group and let them know about the twins' prank of Flophart the next night. Their pranks that afternoon, were on.

_‗_

-==(oIo)==-

\""/

Leaving the DADA class later that afternoon, Harry and the two girls walked quickly down the corridor and turned the corner before they suddenly stopped and all three burst out laughing. They were laughing so hard Daphne and Harry had hold of one another while Tracey was leaning with her back against the wall.

By the time they got themselves back under control, all three ended up with tears running down their cheeks. Others walking down that corridor gave them a very wide berth.

During class, every time Lockhart looked in their direction, all three would strike a heroic pose in their seats and flash the man a winning smile.

In response, Lockhart quickly lost his own smile. There was no way he could not recognise the Charms the threesome were using. After all, he had the same book and had made very good use of it.

His biggest problem was he could not accuse them of using the Charms and Cantrips out of the book, as it would also be an admission he had made use of the same book.

With a chuckle, Harry asked, "Do you - do you want me to cancel the Spells?"

"Merlin, no!" said Tracey. "I want you to reapply them."

"Huh?" he asked, confused.

"Oh, well said, Potter," smirked Daphne. "You have such a way with words."

Harry blew her a raspberry and looked back at Tracey to continue.

"I want to go into the Great Hall looking like this for dinner," she explained.

Surprised, Harry said, "Oh! That's a good idea."

Daphne shook he heard and said, "An even better idea is if our whole group of friends do it together."

That set both Harry and Tracey off again. Daphne let them go for a while before she said, "Come on. We need to go up to the Room to meet up with the others. I'll let them know what I hope they'll agree to do."

_‗_

-==(oIo)==-

\""/

That evening, after most every other student entered the Great Hall for their evening meal, the Seven entered through the double doors. Eyes were twinkling, teeth were glinting, hair was perfectly coiffed, full bodied or falling in soft curls, robes immaculate and billowing, faces lightly blushed. In all, they looked ready to step in front of a professional photographer's lens.

The Hall went silent as soon as they entered and all eyes followed their walk up towards the top end of the tables. Some were openly grinning, while others were watching with concern, if not a little fear.

Young Mister Creevey, after having already been warned once, stood up with his camera and snapped a group photo of them as they were walking up between tables. Harry just glared at the boy and he immediately sat down again.

Plastering the clearly fake smiles on their faces again, the Seven looked around and managed to find they would be sitting at the Gryffindor table that night.

"Ah! We shall grace the Lions with our wonderful presence tonight," said Tracey a little loudly. "I'm sure they'll be overjoyed to have us at their table." Room was quickly made for them while they all struck a pose.

Neville, clearly enough to be heard across the Hall, said in his best Lockhart impression, "Ah! There was no need to do that, of course. After all, I could have easily placed an Expansion Charm on the table and benches; for I - am Neville Longbottom." Again, they all struck a pose.

That earn quite a few open snickers, sniggers and laughter.

When Harry and the others were seated, he turned to look at the head table and could see Dumbledore was clearly amused; Professor McGonagall had her head down again with her face in her hands, chuckling away; and Professor Flitwick was openly laughing. Other Professors were in similar states of mirth; and even Snape was trying to hide a smile. Lockhart however had his fake smile firmly plastered on his face, but there was no happiness in his eyes.

_‗_

-==(oIo)==-

\""/