And darkness will be rewritten
Into a work of fiction, you'll see
As you pull on every ribbon
You'll find every secret it keeps
The sound of the branches breaking under your feet
The smell of the falling and burning leaves
The bitterness of winter or the sweetness of spring
You are an artist
And your heart is your masterpiece
And I'll keep it safe

"I'll Keep You Safe"
Sleeping At Last

LUCY:

After Halloween, I found myself longing to be more like Cedric. A natural healer, someone who always knew exactly what to say and do to make everything right again.

When Percy approached me Sunday afternoon, I immediately knew something was wrong. Percy wasn't a happy person, necessarily, but I had never seen such concern on his face before.

"Lucy?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Lucy? May I have a moment?"

I glanced toward Hermione, who seemed to have taken no notice of his presence. Her eyes flitted back and forth across the page as she read at the pace of a million words a minute. She'd been reading all day and showed no signs of slowing down or stopping any time soon. "I'll be back, Mione," I said, resting my hand on top of hers briefly to get her attention. I caught a glimpse of our rings as I did so; hers was the same bright purple as it had been since the second we saw Mrs. Norris. I hadn't factored concern into the range of emotions, somehow, but I knew that fear was the closest thing to concern so my half was purple as well. She nodded, so I rose to my feet and followed Percy out of the common room.

"Are you alright after the events of last night, Lucy?"

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Oh, yes. I'm alright. Thank you. Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

"Not exactly," he said slowly, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "I just can't imagine being in your shoes. What did happen? As the prefect of the four students most closely related to the incident, I'd like to know."

"Well..." I rubbed my temples, willing away the headache that was knocking around the inside of my skull. "We attended Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party. And by we, I mean Harry and Ron and Hermione and myself." I paused, trying to think of the words to say that most closely matched the words spoken the night prior. "We were tired, so we decided to leave, but we headed up a different way than we normally do. We had only been there for a minute, maybe less, when everybody else showed up there. Nothing else happened."

He pursed his lips. "It sounds like you were all just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

I felt some of the tension in my shoulders release. "That's exactly what Professor Snape said."

He nodded, seemingly satisfied having drawn the same conclusion as a professor. He cleared his throat again. "Well, I'm glad to hear that it was nothing more than that." A twinge of guilt rippled through me because it was most certainly not nothing more than that, but I forced it away. Harry hadn't mentioned the voice, and it wasn't my information to share. "And I'm glad you're handling it well. But, well, the reason I asked to talk to you was that... well, it would seem my sister is not handling it as well as you. I've tried to speak to her already today, but she just cried and cried and cried no matter what I said. And... well, would you mind trying to help her? Reassure her?"

"Of course," I replied immediately, though I found a good deal of humor in trying to imagine what Percy had said to try to comfort her. I could hear it now. The statistical probability of you being attacked is extremely low! Not zero, but extremely low! It's far more likely that someone like Hermione Granger or Colin Creevey would be attacked rather than you or any of your dear brothers- wait, why are you crying even harder? Was it something I said?

"Thank you." He sighed. "I really did try to help. I'm her prefect after all, and the oldest brother at Hogwarts still. But I think you'll be able to help more, seeing the way you two bonded over summer." He slapped his forehead suddenly. "Oh! Maybe she's so upset because she loves cats!" He laughed. "I thought she was worried about us being attacked, but I didn't realize how much she loves cats!"

I smiled politely, finding it hard to believe that she would be so upset just over a cat. "Maybe that's it. I'll go talk to her right now, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you again, Lucy."

"No problem, Percy. You know I'd do anything for your family."

With that, we went our separate ways, him to the library and me to the girls' dormitories. I climbed the stairs until I reached the first years' dormitory, and knocked on the door.

"Ginny?" I called. "It's Lucy. Will you please let me in?"

I heard shuffling footsteps, and the door opened to reveal a girl whose tear-streaked face was as red as her hair. She sniffled. "Hi, Lucy. What's up?"

"I..." I had been so confident I'd be able to help so much better than Percy did, but I found myself at a loss for words. "I just wanted to see if you were okay, after last night."

She started to close the door. "Did one of my brothers put you up to this?"

"No," I lied, pushing the door a little further open. "Honest. I just know it was probably scary for you. It was scary for me. It was scary for everyone, really, but probably especially first-years."

She froze, gnawing on her lower lip as it began to tremble. My mind raced. What would Cedric do?

"Hey, I have an idea," I said suddenly. "Have you ever ridden a broom in the rain before?"

She mulled this over. "I don't think so, no."

"Well, if you'd like to get your mind off of last night, I'll take you down to the Quidditch Pitch, and you can ride my new broom."

"The Nimbus 2001?" she asked with starry eyes.

"The Nimbus 2001 prototype," I corrected with a slight wince.

"That's even cooler!" she exclaimed, flinging the door open as she scrambled to pull a pair of boots on. "Let's go!"

We trudged through the rain down to the lockers, where I grabbed my broom and handed it to her. Her eyes shone as she ran her fingers down the shaft.

"This is the most beautiful broom I've ever seen," she whispered. "It's almost too perfect to fly."

"Oh, definitely not," I protested, ushering her out into the center of the Pitch. "You have to fly it!"

She smiled over her shoulder as she mounted the broom. "Don't worry. I said almost too perfect." With that, she kicked off the ground and shot off into the storm.

We were the only ones there, any practices deterred by the heavy rain, so I grabbed Cedric's broom from his locker, figuring he wouldn't mind. I even grabbed a Quaffle from a box so Ginny and I could toss it back and forth.

I don't know how long we were there, but once it got too dark to see, we decided to call it a day and head back up to the common room to dry out by the fire before dinner.

She pushed her flaming hair out of her face as we sat side by side in front of the common room fire, grinning from ear to ear.

"Your broom is amazing!" she gushed. "It's so powerful! And fast! And yet, it's like it's not even there! It's like I'm the one flying!" She sighed dramatically. "I can't wait until I'm on the Quidditch team, just like you and Harry."

I smiled, and whispered, "All of this time, and you're just now mentioning Harry?"

She giggled. "I was distracted! I love Harry, but I love Quidditch more."

"Do you want to play professionally one day?" I asked.

"I want to." Ginny smiled then, but her eyes were serious. "No, I don't 'want to.' I will."

"That's the spirit," I said, reaching forward and lightly punching her shoulder. "Spoken like a true Gryffindor."

"What do you want to do when you grow up, Lucy?"

For such an innocent question, it sure made my world flip upside down. "I don't know," I said with a casual shrug even as my heart dropped to my toes. "I'm keeping my options open."

It wasn't a lie. Not completely. I had no clue what I wanted to do, what I could do. Finding a job as a werewolf was next to impossible. No matter how talented I was, no matter how smart I was, no matter how charismatic or brave or hard-working I was, no self-respecting member of wizarding society would ever trust a werewolf enough to hire them. It was unheard of. The thought of my future made my stomach hurt with the uncertainty of it all.

But Ginny didn't see any of this turmoil when she smiled at me. "Maybe you can play Quidditch with me."

I smiled. "I like the sound of that."

I slid into the seat next to Harry at the back of the room in History of Magic and fanned the steam away from my ears. "Did Ron finish the essay?" I asked as I drew my own (completed, thankfully) essay from my bookbag.

"I think he was two inches short," he laughed. "Did he ask for yours too?"

"I'm the reason he has an essay to begin with," I said with a roll of my eyes. "I helped him with the first foot before leaving for practice yesterday." I swatted at the weak curls of steam rising around Harry's ears. "Are you running low on Pepperup, too?"

He nodded. "Let's get some on our way to Lockhart's class."

I nodded my agreement just as Professor Binns started talking. I did my best to take good notes on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, but I was miserable. The full moon was coming up, and I had only taken a half dosage of Pepperup Potion, and I kept Hermione company as she read late into the night, so there was a throbbing headache behind my eyes that made it harder to focus than usual.

I was distracted from my misery, though, when Hermione raised her hand. Professor Binns seemed as surprised as the rest of us.

"Miss... er...?"

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets."

The entire class seemed to snap to attention. Even Harry, who was half-asleep next to me, sat up straighter in his seat and leaned forward slightly. I scribbled "Chamber of Secrets" in the margins of my notes and held my quill at the ready.

"My subject is History of Magic. I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat and droned on, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers-" Hermione shot her hand up again. I smiled. Professor Binns had no idea how determined Hermione could be --- surely enough, the ring on my hand glowed half-white. "Miss Grant?"

"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"

"Well... yes, one could argue that, I suppose. However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale." He hesitated, then sighed. I pressed my quill to the parchment, ready to write like I'd never written before. "Oh, very well. Let me see, the Chamber of Secrets... you all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution. For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school. "

I felt a bit of pride surge in my chest as I scrawled down that detail. I had never known that Godric Gryffindor was the one to stand up to Salazar Slytherin.

"Reliable historical sources tell us this much, but these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic. The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course. Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible."

The class sat for a moment in stunned silence, but Hermione's hand shot back into the air.

"Sir, what exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?"

"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control."

At the mention of the word "monster," something clenched in my stomach. A true monster, or something like me? What would petrify a cat? What could petrify a cat?

"I tell you, the thing does not exist. There is no Chamber and no monster," Professor Binns said with a sense of finality.

But Seamus spoke up next. "But, sir, if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?"

"Nonsense, O'Flaherty. If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found the thing-"

Parvati was next. "But, Professor, you'd probably have to use Dark Magic to open it-"

"Just because a wizard doesn't use Dark Magic doesn't mean he can't, Miss Pennyfeather. I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore-"

Dean was next. "But maybe you've got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn't-"

Professor Binns was done. "That will do! It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to history, to solid, believable, verifiable fact!"

I gave up on trying to take notes for the rest of the class. As soon as the bell rang, I turned to Harry and lowered my voice to a whisper.

"Harry, remember that ancient runes book I got last Christmas?"

He nodded.

"The beginning of the book has biographies of the four founders. If it's true, that Salazar Slytherin made the Chamber of Secrets, maybe the book has details on it. More so than a widely-known book, anyway."

His eyes widened. "Yeah, it probably does."

We turned to pack our bags when we saw Ron and Hermione heading toward us. I still hadn't told anyone other than Harry about the ancient runes book. I couldn't explain why, but I just had a feeling that whatever Dumbledore had in mind for Harry and me, it would be best between the two of us until it became clear we needed to let someone else in on the secret. And yet, there had been no need.

We headed up to the common room to drop our bags off before dinner.

Ron sighed heavily. "I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony, but I never knew he started all this pure-blood stuff. I wouldn't be in his house if you paid me. Honestly, if the Sorting Hat had tried to put me in Slytherin, I'd've got the train straight back home."

Hermione nodded fervently, and I cracked a smile, but Harry looked troubled. I adjusted my bag on my shoulder, and I was going to ask what was wrong, but Colin Creevey came along then, getting tossed around in the crowd.

"Hiya, Harry!"

"Hullo, Colin."

"Harry, Harry, a boy in my class has been saying you're-" His next words were lost in the crowd, but we did hear a "See ya, Harry!" as he was swept away around a corner.

Hermione cocked her head. "What's a boy in his class saying about you?"

"That I'm Slytherin's heir, I expect." Harry bit his lower lip. "Maybe that's why Justin ran away from me."

"He what?" I asked.

"Oh, right, you weren't in the library when I told Ron and Hermione. Justin Finch-Fletchley saw me at lunch, and I was going to say hello, but he ran away. But if he thinks I'm Slytherin's heir..."

"People here will believe anything," Ron grumbled.

I nodded emphatically. "Remember when Fred and George managed to convince half the school that Peeves was secretly married to the Bloody Baron, and even magically altered pictures to prove it?"

Harry managed a smile. "Yeah, I do. That was a very funny couple of weeks."

After a moment of silence, Ron asked, "D'you really think there's a Chamber of Secrets?"

Hermione hesitated. "I don't know. Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs. Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be, well, human."

"Professor Binns used the word monster," I added in a small voice. Hermione looked toward me, the glance rife with meaning, and I glanced down at the ground, catching the purple glow of the ring on my hand. "I hope it's not human, if that's really the case."

We found ourselves at the scene again. The words still glowed red on the wall. I felt my breath hitch in my throat, and I really wanted to run away, but Harry dropped his bag.

"It's deserted," he observed. "Can't hurt to have a look around."

I nodded and set my bag, joining him on my hands and knees.

"Scorch marks," he muttered. "There, and there-"

"And over here too," I added.

Hermione gasped. "Come and look at this! This is funny." We joined her at a window and followed where she was pointing. A bunch of spiders were climbing a web like a rope, trying to get outside through a tiny crack in the top pane. "Have you ever seen spiders act like that?"

"No," Harry and I said in unison.

"Have you, Ron?" Harry asked. "Ron? What's up?"

We turned around to see him pressed against the back wall, looking incredibly pale.

"I don't like spiders," he stammered, his gaze fixed on me so he didn't have to look at the spiders.

Hermione sounded surprised. "I never knew that. You've used spiders in Potions loads of times-"

"I don't mind them dead. I just don't like the way they move."

Hermione laughed, making his face go from pale to bright red.

"It's not funny. If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my teddy bear into a great big filthy spider because I broke his toy broomstick. You wouldn't like them either if you'd been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and... and..."

I cracked a grin. "That's not the story the twins told me over summer. Yours makes more sense."

He managed to get even more red at that. "You knew?"

I nodded. "We started talking about boggarts and phobias and whatnot, and your fear of spiders came up." I heard Hermione snicker behind me, but thankfully Harry spoke up before Ron heard her laughter.

"Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone's mopped it up."

Ron nodded, eager to be on a different topic. "It was about here, level with this door." He reached to open the door, then recoiled.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

Ron turned pink again. "Can't go in there. That's a girls' toilet."

Hermione sighed. "Oh, Ron, there won't be anyone in there. That's Moaning Myrtle's place. Come on, let's have a look."

"I've never actually been in here," I muttered as we stared at the door.

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"Girls usually only come here when they need to cry," Hermione explained. "It's quite pathetic, honestly, sometimes I just need to pee but it's full of crying girls. Lucy's never been because she just saves her crying for the shower."

"Oh, shut up," I mumbled. I blushed from head to toe, but didn't disagree as we entered the room. Hermione placed a finger over her lips and approached the last stall.

"Hello, Myrtle," she said as kindly as she could muster. "How are you?"

She glared at Harry and Ron. "This is a girls' bathroom. They're not girls."

"No, they're not. I just wanted to show them how, er, nice it is in here."

"Who are you?" the ghost girl asked, looking at me.

"I'm Lucy Diggory," I said with a smile. "I don't believe we had the pleasure of being properly introduced at Nearly Headless Nick's party the other night. Speaking of, did you see anything unusual on Halloween? A cat was attacked just outside your door."

"I wasn't paying attention. Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I'm... that I'm..."

"Already dead," Ron finished for her.

Myrtle wailed and dove into the toilet, her mournful screams echoing throughout the room.

Hermione sighed. "That was almost cheerful for Myrtle. Come on, let's go."

"I'll catch up with you in a minute," I said, creeping closer to the toilet. "Myrtle? Will you please come back up? I want to talk to you."

"Lucy, if you want to talk to her, she won't come up for hours," Hermione said impatiently. "Come on, let's go."

After dinner, we headed up to the common room and settled in a corner. It had been a while since it was just the four of us to ourselves, so, naturally, our focus drifted from our homework to the Chamber of Secrets.

Hermione set her homework aside and looked around at all of us. "Who can it be, though? Who'd want to frighten all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?"

"Let's think. Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum?" Ron rolled his eyes. "Seems obvious to me."

Hermione shook her head slowly. "If you're talking about Malfoy..."

"Of course I am! You heard him! 'You'll be next, Mudbloods!' Come on, you've only got to look at his foul rat face to know it's him-"

I glanced down to see Hermione's swirl of purple and white and scarlet. Fear. Determination. Anger. The same three emotions swirling around the past few days.

Ron's words hit a sensitive spot. What were people saying about my scarred face behind my back? My ring slowly morphed to a soft pink. Embarrassment.

Harry closed his books as well. "Look at his family. The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin; he's always boasting about it. They could easily be Slytherin's descendants. His father's definitely evil enough."

Ron nodded enthusiastically. "They could've had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries! Handing it down, father to son-"

"Well, I suppose it's possible," Hermione mused. "What do you think, Lucy?"

I shrugged, rubbing the back of my neck.

"If it is him, how do we prove it?" Harry asked, rubbing his chin.

"There might be a way. Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We'd be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect-"

"If, in a month or so, you feel like explaining, you will let us know, won't you?" Ron asked.

"Alright, alright. What we'd need to do is to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions without him realizing it's us."

Ron laughed. Harry looked like he was trying not to as he said, "But that's impossible."

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's not. All we'd need would be some Polyjuice Potion."

I bit my lip. It could work.

"What's that?" the boys asked.

"It transforms you into somebody else. Think about it! We could change into four of the Slytherins. No one would know it was us. Malfoy would probably tell us anything. He's probably boasting about it in the Slytherin common room right now, if only we could hear him."

Ron seemed unconvinced. "This Polyjuice stuff sounds a bit dodgy to me. What if we were stuck looking like three of the Slytherins forever?"

"It wears off after a while. But getting hold of the recipe will be very difficult. Snape said it was in a book called Moste Potente Potions and it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library."

"Hard to see why we'd want the book, really, if we weren't going to try and make one of the potions," Ron said with a heavy sigh.

"I think if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance-"

"Oh, come on, no teacher's going to fall for that! They'd have to be really thick... bloody hell, we need to ask Lockhart."

Harry and I immediately erupted into laughter, drawing quite a few stares from the others in the common room, but we were too entertained to stop. Once we finally managed to control ourselves, we bowed our heads together and figured out a specific plan.

"Today, class, we are going to recreate my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf!" Professor Lockhart exclaimed. "Hm, who would like to play the part of the werewolf?" A number of hands shot in the hair, mainly girls, but he pursed his lips and scanned the room. His gaze landed on the back of the room, and I felt my fight-or-flight response activate as his eyes swept the row. But I didn't need to worry; as always, he chose Harry. "Why, Harry! How about you?"

I heard a quiet sigh escape his lips. Lockhart was already strolling down the aisle with a flashy, toothy grin. "Come on now, no need to be shy! You were an excellent vampire last week! How different is a werewolf, really?"

Hermione turned around, beaming widely at Harry. "Do it! Do it!" she mouthed.

Harry had no choice. Lockhart grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the front of the room. I wanted to feel sorry for Harry, but truthfully, I just felt sorry for myself. I felt the world around me slowly fade away as blood rushed to my head. I tried to tune him out, tried to pay no attention, but I couldn't look away.

"Nice loud howl, Harry... exactly..."

Werewolves only respond to the howl of their own kind. That sounded nothing like a werewolf's true howl.

"And then, if you'll believe it, I pounced... like this.... slammed him to the floor..."

Falling hurts so much more as a werewolf. The smaller body means every impact is felt so much harder.

"Thus with one hand, I managed to hold him down... with my other, I put my wand to his throat... I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm..."

I know someone tried that on me once, when I was very little, right after I'd been bitten... it didn't work. It never has. Not for me.

"He let out a piteous moan... go on, Harry... higher than that... good..."

He wouldn't have moaned piteously. He would have screamed, howled, wailed. The transformation from beast to man almost hurts more than the transformation from man to beast. Symbolic, isn't it? I've always thought so.

"The fur vanished, the fangs shrank, and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective, and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."

The Homorphus Charm must be reapplied every transformation, so unless he somehow taught someone else in the village how to do it, he's bluffing. I think this whole thing is a bluff.

Finally, finally, the bell rang.

"Homework is to compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!"

I was alarmed to feel a lump rising in my throat. I had tried so hard to be happy, and for a while, I had been. But between the attack on Halloween and the vivid depiction of Lockhart's defeat of the werewolf and everything in between, I couldn't take it anymore. I raced to Hermione at the front of the room, fighting to hold tears back. "I'll go make sure nobody's in the bathroom while you get the book," I said quickly.

"I'm sure it will be," she replied, her eyes still big and dreamy, as they often were at the end of a Lockhart class. "You should stay with us to get his autograph."

"Just a signature," I snapped, "and I don't want to. I'm going to go make sure the bathroom is vacant." I turned on my heel and bowed my head low as I rushed from the classroom.

I completely ignored the OUT OF ORDER sign on the door and burst into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom with tears already coursing down my cheeks.

I locked myself in a stall and began to cry as silently as possible, knowing I probably only had at most fifteen minutes before they'd return with the book. After a few minutes, though, I felt a cold breeze whip around the stall and when I lifted my head from my hands, Myrtle was hovering in mid-air in front of me, watching with wide eyes.

"Lucy, isn't it?" she asked.

I nodded. "Hi, Myrtle. How are you?"

"Better than you, it would seem. What's bothering you?"

"It's nothing," I lied in a small voice.

"Lucy, I've seen hundreds if not thousands of girls cry in here, and it's never over nothing."

"It's just been a long week," I said instead. "But I'm fine, really."

She stared at me for a moment before speaking again. "If you don't want to talk to me, fine," she said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I just wanted to help."

"No," I choked out, suddenly feeling bad, "it's not that. I just don't want to bother you."

She sank a little lower in the air. "Sometimes helping people makes me feel a little less dead," she admitted. "I don't mind. Truly."

I sighed shakily. "I don't know how you can help, otherwise I would tell you what's wrong."

She opened her mouth to reply, but her eyes grew wide. "Someone's coming!"

"Oh, bloody hell," I spat, scrubbing my eyes with my robes. I looked at Myrtle earnestly. "Can you tell I've been crying?"

"A bit." Her eyes welled up again. "I'm sorry I can't help you. I guess I'm useless in life and in death."

She soared over the stalls and disappeared into another toilet with a distant splash, weeping pitifully.

I emerged from the stall to follow her just as my friends entered the bathroom. I immediately whipped around to face them and plastered on a smile. "That was faster than I was expecting. Lockhart didn't brag for his typical hour?"

Ron snickered. "No, but he did try to give Harry advice on playing Seeker."

I wrinkled my nose in disgust and opened my mouth to reply, but Hermione intervened first. "Let's see what we're up against with this potion."

Hermione propped the book up as we gathered on the floor and skimmed through it quickly. "This is the most complicated potion I've ever seen," she muttered. "Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass. Well, they're easy enough, they're in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves. Oooh, look, powdered horn of a bicorn, don't know where we're going to get that. Shredded skin of a boomslang, that'll be tricky, too and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into."

Ron's eyes bugged out of his head. "Excuse me? What d'you mean, a bit of whoever we're changing into? I'm drinking nothing with Crabbe's toenails in it-"

Hermione ignored him. "We don't have to worry about that yet, though, because we add those bits last."

Harry piped up then. "D'you realize how much we're going to have to steal, Hermione? Shredded skin of a boomslang, that's definitely not in the students' cupboard. What're we going to do, break into Snape's private stores? I don't know if this is a good idea-"

Hermione snapped the book shut and glared at them. "Well, if you two are going to chicken out, fine! I don't want to break rules, you know. I think threatening Muggle-borns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, I'll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in."

Ron exhaled slowly. "I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be persuading us to break rules. All right, we'll do it. But not toenails, okay?"

Hermione opened the book again and scanned the pages, continuing to ignore Ron.

"How long will it take to make, anyway?" Harry inquired.

"Well, since the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days, so I'd say it'd be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients," she answered.

"A month? Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!" Hermione glared, so he cleared his throat and added, "But it's the best plan we've got, so full steam ahead, I say."

Hermione and I read the instructions in silence while the boys scoped the bathroom looking for the best spot to start brewing.

"Want to play a game of chess, Lucy?" Ron asked after a couple of minutes.

I glanced toward Hermione. Her jaw was clenched. Her half of the ring was a bright purple. "I'll stay here, but you and Harry go ahead. We'll meet you in the common room in a few minutes.

He nodded, and the boys disappeared.

"Thanks," Hermione muttered. "I couldn't focus with them complaining every thirty seconds."

"Of course. Show me how I can help."

She sighed shakily. "I don't know. I've never taken on a project like this before. But considering lives are at stake, including mine, I... I..."

Fat tears began to roll down her cheeks. I gently took the book from her hands and laid it on the ground, reaching forward to wrap my arms around her. She buried her face in my shoulder and cried for the first time since Halloween night. As her tears dried up, I found myself grappling with tears of my own.

"I won't leave your side, Mione, because with me, you'll always be safe. Okay? I'll protect you."

"P-Promise?"

The fear in her voice made my heart break. I nodded as a tear slipped down my own cheek. "I promise."

A/N: Hi, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

I honestly forgot how much I loved Chamber of Secrets until reading it again a couple of weeks ago. Goblet of Fire is still my favorite book, but this one is competing with Prisoner of Azkaban for the second-place spot in my ranking. Feel free to comment your favorite Harry Potter book! I'm curious.

As always, thank you for reading! Feedback of any kind is always, always, always appreciated! Like seriously, I will go back and reread your comments whenever I feel discouraged and it always makes me feel better. Thank you to those of you who are always so supportive and kind. You truly make this story worth telling.

I'm super excited for the next chapter! Are you all ready for Harry and Lucy's first Quidditch match together? I know I am, but I don't know if you are.Stay safe and keep your head up! Love you all!