Johnny, Hermione and Ron were in Moaning Myrtle's toilets preparing the potion.

"It's me," Harry said, knocking on the stall door. There was a clunk, a splash, and a gasp from within the stall and he saw Hermione's eye peering through the keyhole.

"Harry!" she said. "You gave us such a fright - come in. How's your arm?"

"Fine," said Harry, squeezing into the stall. An old cauldron was perched on the toilet, and a crackling from under the rim told Harry they had lit a fire beneath it. Conjuring up portable, waterproof fires was a speciality of Hermione's.

"We'd've come to meet you, but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion," Johnny explained as Harry, with difficulty, locked the stall again. "We've decided this is the safest place to hide it."

Harry started to tell them about Colin, but Hermione interrupted.

"We already know - we heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning. That's why we decided we'd better get going--"

"The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better," snarled Ron. "D'you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin."

"There's something else," said Harry, watching Hermione tearing bundles of knotgrass and throwing them into the potion. "Dobby came to visit me in the middle of the night."

Johnny, Ron and Hermione looked up, amazed. Harry told them everything Dobby had told him - or hadn't told him. Johnny, Hermione and Ron listened with their mouths open.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?" Hermione said.

"This settles it," said Ron in a triumphant voice. "Lucius Malfoy must've opened the Chamber when he was at school here and now he's told dear old Draco how to do it. It's obvious. Wish Dobby'd told you what kind of monster's in there, though. I want to know how come nobody's noticed it sneaking around the school."

"Maybe it can make itself invisible," said Hermione, prodding leeches to the bottom of the cauldron. "Or maybe it can disguise itself - pretend to be a suit of armor or something - I've read about Chameleon Ghouls--"

"You read too much, Hermione," said Ron, pouring dead lacewings on top of the leeches. He crumpled up the empty lacewing bag and looked at Harry.

"So Dobby stopped us from getting on the train and broke your arm." He shook his head.

"You know what, Harry? If he doesn't stop trying to save your life he's going to get killed himself." Said Johnny.

The news that Colin Creevey had been attacked and was now lying as though dead in the hospital wing had spread through the entire school by Monday morning. The air was suddenly thick with rumor and suspicion. The first years were now moving around the castle in tight-knit groups, as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone.

Ginny, who sat next to Colin Creevey in Charms, was distraught, but Johnny felt that Fred and George were going the wrong way about cheering her up. They were taking turns covering themselves with fur or boils and jumping out at her from behind statues. They only stopped when Percy, apoplectic with rage, told them he was going to write to Mrs. Weasley and tell her Ginny was having nightmares.

Meanwhile, hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in talismans, amulets, and other protective devices was sweeping the school. Neville Longbottom bought a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal, and a rotting newt tail before Johnny and other Gryffindor boys pointed out that he was in no danger; he was a pure-blood, and therefore unlikely to be attacked.

"They went for Filch first," Neville said, his round face fearful. "And everyone knows I'm almost a Squib."

In the second week of December Professor McGonagall came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. Johnny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione signed her list; they had heard that Malfoy was staying, which struck them as very suspicious. The holidays would be the perfect time to use the Polyjuice Potion and try to worm a confession out of him.

Unfortunately, the potion was only half finished. They still needed the bicorn horn and the boomslang skin, and the only place they were going to get them was from Snape's private stores. Johnny privately felt he'd rather face Slytherin's legendary monster than let Snape catch him robbing his office.

"What we need," said Hermione briskly as Thursday afternoon's double Potions lesson loomed nearer, "is a diversion. Then one of us can sneak into Snape's office and take what we need." Johnny, Harry and Ron looked at her nervously.

"I think I'd better do the actual stealing," Hermione continued in a matter-of-fact tone to Johnny. "Harry and Ron will be expelled if they get into any more trouble, and I've got a clean record. So all you need to do is cause enough mayhem to keep Snape busy for five minutes or so."

Deliberately causing mayhem in Snape's Potions class was about as safe as poking a sleeping dragon in the eye.

Potions lessons took place in one of the large dungeons. Thursday afternoon's lesson proceeded in the usual way. Twenty cauldrons stood steaming between the wooden desks, on which stood brass scales and jars of ingredients. Snape prowled through the fumes, making waspish remarks about the Gryffindors'work while the Slytherins (minus Johnny) sniggered appreciatively. Malfoy, who was Snape's favorite student, kept flicking puffer-fish eyes at Johnny, Ron and Harry, who knew that if they retaliated they would get detention faster than you could say "Unfair."

Johnny's Swelling Solution was far better than everyone else's, but he had his mind on more important things. He was waiting for Hermione's signal, and he hardly listened as Snape paused to sneer at Harry's watery potion. When Snape turned and walked off to bully Neville, Hermione caught Johnny's eye and winked.

Johnny ducked swiftly down behind his cauldron, pulled one of Fred's Filibuster fireworks out of his pocket, and gave it a quick prod with his wand. The firework began to fizz and sputter. Knowing he had only seconds, Johnny straightened up, took aim, and lobbed it into the air; it landed right on target in Goyle's cauldron.

Goyle's potion exploded, showering the whole class. People shrieked as splashes of the Swelling Solution hit them. Malfoy got a faceful and his nose began to swell like a balloon; Goyle blundered around, his hands over his eyes, which had expanded to the size of a dinner plate - Snape was trying to restore calm and find out what had happened. Through the confusion, Johnny saw Hermione slip quietly into Snape's office.

"Silence! SILENCE!" Snape roared. "Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draft - when I find out who did this--"

Johnny and Harry tried not to laugh as he watched Malfoy hurry forward, his head drooping with the weight of a nose like a small melon. As half the class lumbered up to Snape's desk, some weighted down with arms like clubs, others unable to talk through gigantic puffed-up lips, Johnny saw Hermione slide back into the dungeon, the front of her robes bulging.

"Is that boomslang in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" Johnny asked with a smirk, making Hermione whack him around the back of the head

When everyone had taken a swig of antidote and the various swellings had subsided, Snape swept over to Goyle's cauldron and scooped out the twisted black remains of the firework. There was a sudden hush.

"If I ever find out who threw this," Snape whispered, "I shall make sure that person is expelled."

Johnny arranged his face into what he hoped was a puzzled expression. Snape was looking right at Harry, and the bell that rang ten minutes later could not have been more welcome.

"He thought it was me," Harry told Johnny, Ron and Hermione as they hurried back to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. "I could tell."

Hermione threw the new ingredients into the cauldron and began to stir feverishly.

"It'll be ready in two weeks," she said happily.

"Snape can't prove it was you, besides it was Johnny," said Ron reassuringly to Harry.

A week later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking across the entrance hall when they saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas beckoned them over, looking excited.

"They're starting a Dueling Club!" said Seamus. "First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days..."

"What, you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" said Johnny, but he, too, read the sign with interest.

"Could be useful," Johnny said to Ron, Harry and Hermione as they went into dinner. "Shall we go?"

They were all for it, so at eight o'clock that evening, Johnny hurried back to the Great Hall from the Dungeons to meet up with his three best friends. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school eemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.

"I wonder who'll be teaching us?" said Hermione as they edged into the chattering crowd. "Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young - maybe it'll be him."

"As long as it's not -" Harry began, but he ended on a groan: Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

"Fuck my life," Johnny mumbled, glaring at the look of admiration on Hermione's face.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions - for full details, see my published works.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry - you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"Actually," Snape's monotone voice was heard, as Snape glanced between Johnny and Lockhart. "I was thinking we have a little student teacher duel? Shall we say, Grindelwald and yourself?"

"Now, Severus I think that's a little un-"

"I think Mr. Grindelwald is more than capable of duelling a teacher," Snape's lips curled into a smirk. "You have heard who his grandfather is, haven't you?"

"I-I," Lockhart stuttered before he motioned for Johnny to join him up on the stage.

"Go on Johnny!" All the boys yelled in support while most of the girls stayed quiet.

Lockhart and Johnny turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Johnny jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured to Ron and Neville, watching Johnny baring his teeth.

"One - two - three--"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent.

"Locomotor Mortis!" There was a dazzling flash of light and Lockhart's legs were locked together. "Stupefy!" Johnny yelled to finish Lockhart off. The Professor flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

The Gryffindors and some of the other Slytherins cheered. Johnny noticed that Hermione was finally looking at him with more admiration in her eyes than when she looked at Lockhart, and Johnny grinned stupidly to himself as Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Leg-lock curse and the stunning spell - as you could see, my legs were locked and I was stunned - yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Johnny, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy - however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see..."

"Shall we go for best of three?" Johnny offered, his confidence growing as he saw Hermione staring at him. Then Johnny was looking murderous as he looked back at Lockhart as he was shaking his head. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, and Johnny seeing as you're a fine dueller, if you'd like to help me--"

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Johnny reached Harry and Ron first.

"Orders from Snape, he thinks it's time to split up the dream team," Johnny said, following Snape's orders. "Ron, orders say you're with Seamus. Harry--"

Harry moved automatically toward Hermione.

"I don't think so," said Snape, approaching. "Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Granger - you can partner Miss Bulstrode."

Malfoy strutted over, smirking. Behind him walked Millicent Bulstrode. She was large and square and her heavy jaw jutted aggressively. Hermione gave her a weak smile that she didn't return.

"Good luck," Johnny whispered in Hermione's ear, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents - only to disarm them - we don't want any accidents - one ... two ... three--"

Harry swung his wand high, but Malfoy had already started on "two": His spell hit Harry so hard he felt as though he'd been hit over the head with a saucepan. He stumbled, but everything still seemed to be working, and wasting no more time, Harry pointed his wand straight at Malfoy and shouted, "Rictusempra! "

A jet of silver light hit Malfoy in the stomach and he doubled up, wheezing.

"I said disarm only!" Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Malfoy sank to his knees; Harry had hit him with a Tickling Charm, and he could barely move for laughing. Harry hung back, with a vague feeling it would be unsporting to bewitch Malfoy while he was on the floor, but this was a mistake; gasping for breath, Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry's knees, choked, "Tarantallegra!" and the next second Harry's legs began to jerk around out of his control in a kind of quickstep.

"Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart, but Johnny took charge.

"Finite Incantatem!" Johnny shouted; Harry's feet stopped dancing, Malfoy stopped laughing, and they were able to look up.

"If you can't control a duelling class, Professor," Johnny spat. "Maybe you should leave and get competent teachers in your place. Maybe Professor Snape and Flitwick? Competent teachers who wouldn't lose to a thirteen-"

But Johnny was cut off by a loud bang. A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting; Ron was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus, apologising for whatever his broken wand had done; but Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode were still moving; Millicent had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain; both their wands lay forgotten on the floor.

"Flipendo!" Johnny cried, pointing at Bullstrode. The burly Slytherin girl let go and Hermione hugged Johnny around the middle.

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you get, Macmillan... Careful there, Miss Fawcett... Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second."

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape and Johnny, both teacher and student were glaring at him, and he looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair - Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you--"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Neville's round, pink face went pinker. "How about Round Two of Grindelwald vs Lockhart? Or Malfoy and Potter?" said Snape with a twisted smile.

"Potter! Malfoy! Excellent idea!" said Lockhart quickly, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.

"Now, Harry," said Lockhart. "When Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Johnny smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops - my wand is a little overexcited--"

Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy smirked, too. Harry looked up nervously at Lockhart and said, "Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?"

"Scared?" muttered Malfoy, so that Lockhart couldn't hear him.

"You wish," said Harry out of the corner of his mouth.

Johnny patted Harry on the shoulder in support.

"Just do what I did, Harry!" Said Lockhart happily.

"What, drop his wand?" Johnny sneered, but Lockhart wasn't listening.

"Three - two - one - go!" he shouted.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, "Serpensortia!"

The end of his wand exploded. Johnny watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

"Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it..."

"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Johnny heard Harry hissing and knew at once was this was. Parsltongue. Snake language. Johnny looked at Harry worried.

Harry looked up at Justin, grinning, expecting to see Justin looking relieved, or puzzled, or even grateful - but certainly not angry and scared.

"What do you think you're playing at?" he shouted, and before Harry could say anything, Justin had turned and stormed out of the hall.

Johnny stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape, too, was looking at Harry in an unexpected way: It was a shrewd and calculating look. Johnny grabbed Harry by the elbow and dragged him off the stage to Ron and Hermione.

"Come on," said Ron. "Move - come on--"

Ron and Johnny steered him out of the hall, Hermione hurrying alongside them. As they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away as though they were frightened of catching something. Johnny, Ron nor Hermione explained anything until they had dragged him all the way up to the empty Gryffindor common room.

Then Ron pushed Harry into an armchair and said, "You're a Parselmouth. Why didn't you tell us?"

"I'm a what?" said Harry.

'A Parselmouth!" said Ron. "You can talk to snakes!"

"I know," said Harry. "I mean, that's only the second time I've ever done it. I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once - long story - but it was telling me it had never seen Brazil and I sort of set it free without meaning to that was before I knew I was a wizard--"

"A boa constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?" Johnny repeated faintly.

"So?" said Harry. "I bet loads of people here can do it."

"Oh, no they can't," said Ron. "It's not a very common gift. Harry, this is bad."

"What's bad?" said Harry, starting to feel quite angry. "What's wrong with everyone? Listen, if I hadn't told that snake not to attack Justin--"

"Oh, that's what you said to it?" Johnny said, relived.

"What d'you mean? You were there - you heard me--"

"We heard you speaking Parseltongue," said Johnny. "Snake language. You could have been saying anything - no wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something - it was creepy, you know--"

Harry gaped at them.

"I spoke a different language? But - I didn't realise - how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?"

Harry couldn't see what was so terrible.

"D'you want to tell me what's wrong with stopping a massive snake biting off Justin's head?" he said. "What does it matter how I did it as long as Justin doesn't have to join the Headless Hunt?"

"It matters," said Hermione, speaking at last in a hushed voice, "because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent."

Harry's mouth fell open.

"Exactly," said Ron. "And now the whole school's going to think you're his great-great-great-great-grandson or something--"

"But I'm not," said Harry, with a panic he couldn't quite explain.

"You'll find that hard to prove," said Johnny. "He lived about a thousand years ago; for all we know, you could be."

By next morning, however, the snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of the term was canceled: 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 Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey.

The castle was darker than it usually was in daytime because of the thick, swirling gray snow at every window. Shivering, Johnny 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. He decided he should go to the library to see if Hermione was there.

A group of the Hufliepuffs who should have been in Herbology were sitting at the back of the library, but they didn't seem to be working. Between the long lines of high bookshelves, Johnny could see that their heads were close together and they were having what looked like an absorbing conversation. He couldn't see whether Justin was among them. He was walking toward them when something of what they were saying met his ears, and he paused to listen, hidden in the Invisibility section.

"So anyway," a stout boy 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 he was Muggle-born. Justin actually told him he'd been down for Eton. That's not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin's heir on the loose, is it?"

"You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?" said a girl with blonde pigtails anxiously.

"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, and 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, Flich'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, well, he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can't be all bad, can he?"

Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer, and Johnny edged nearer so that he could catch Ernie's words.

"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?"

Johnny couldn't take anymore. Clearing his throat loudly, he stepped out from behind the bookshelves. If he hadn't been feeling so angry, he would have found the sight that greeted him funny: Every one of the Hufflepuffs looked as though they had been Petrified by the sight of him, and the color was draining out of Ernie's face.

"Hello," said Johnny, smirking. "I'm on the lookout for Justin Finch-Fletchley? There's a message from Harry?"

The Hufflepuffs'worst fears had clearly been confirmed. They all looked fearfully at Ernie.

"What do you want with him?" said Ernie in a quavering voice.

"Harry wanted to me to tell him what really happened with that snake at the Dueling Club," said Johnny.

Ernie bit his white lips and then, taking a deep breath, said, "We were all there. We saw what happened."

"Then you noticed that after Harry spoke to it, the snake backed off?"

"All I saw," said Ernie stubbornly, though he was trembling as he spoke, "was Potter speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake toward Justin."

"He didn't chase it at him!" Johnny said, slamming his hands on the table, his voice shaking with anger. "It didn't even touch him!"

"It was a very near miss," said Ernie. "And in case you'd give your cousin getting ideas," he added hastily, "I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and wizards and my blood's as pure as anyone's, so--"

"- I don't care what fucking blood you've got!" said Johnny fiercely. "Why would Harry want to attack Muggle-borns?"

"I've heard Harry  hates those Muggles he lives with," said Ernie swiftly.

"It's not possible to live with those bastard Dursleys and not hate them," said Johnny. "I'd like to see you try it."

He turned on his heel and stormed out of the library, earning himself a reproving glare from Madam Pince, who was polishing the gilded cover of a large spellbook.

Johnny blundered up the corridor, barely noticing where he was going, he was in such a fury. The result was that he walked into something very large and solid, which knocked him backward onto the floor.

"Oh, hello, Hagrid," Johnny 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', Johnny?" he said, pulling up the balaclava so he could speak. "Why aren't yeh in class?"

"Canceled," said Johnny, 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 Johnny from under his thick, snowflecked eyebrows.

"Yeh sure yeh're all righ'? Yeh look all hot an'bothered--"

Johnny couldn't bring himself to repeat what Ernie and the rest of the Hufflepuffs had been saying about Harry.

"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 Harry.

"Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born..."

Johnny 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 was halfway down the passage when he tripped headlong over something lying on the floor.

He turned to squint at what he'd fallen 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 Johnny 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.

Johnny got to his feet, his breathing fast and shallow, his heart doing a kind of drumroll against his ribs. He lookedwildly up and down the deserted corridor and saw a line of spiders scuttling as fast as they could away from the bodies. The only sounds were the muffled 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 them 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 Grindy wee Grindelwald!" cackled Peeves, knocking Johnny as he bounced past him. "What's Grindy up to? Why's Grindy lurking--"

Peeves stopped, halfway through a midair somersault. Upside down, he spotted Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs and, before Johnny 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. Johnny found himself pinned against the wall as the teachers shouted for quiet. Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class. 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.

"So it's not Potter!" Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Johnny.

"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, Grindy, 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 Johnny.

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 Johnny and Professor McGonagall alone together.

"This way, Grindelwald," she said.

"Professor," said Johnny at once, "I swear I didn't--"

"This is out of my hands, Grindelwald," said Professor McGonagall curtly.

They marched in silence around a corner and she stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.

"Lemon drop!" she said. This was evidently a password, because the gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two. Even full of dread for what was coming, Johnny couldn't fail to be amazed. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator. As he and Professor McGonagall stepped onto it, Johnny heard the wall thud closed behind them. They rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, Johnny saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin.

He knew where he was being taken. To Dumbledore.