( 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 )

xii. false hope

"I was up all night thinking."

Ron scoffed, taking a large bite of his toast, "Are we to be shocked?"

Matilda ignored him rolling her eyes, "I was thinking about the student who died in the bathroom," She looked between Harry and Ron who sat on the bench across the table. "You know, the one that Aragog mentioned."

She was careful to talk in only whispers so that those around her wouldn't hear them talking about their late-night excursion into a spider's nest.

"Yeah, me too," admitted Harry. "If only we could find some information about her. You'd think there'd be more out there considering she was a student who died here."

"What if we already know who she is," suggested Matilda, grinning, immensely proud of herself.

Ron looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed, "What do you mean? How could we know her?" his mouth was full, muffling his voice. "She died fifty years ago. That's even older than my mum."

"It's Myrtle."

She blurted the name out quickly, "The student who was killed – it's Myrtle."

It wasn't even a theory anymore. Matilda knew that Myrtle was the student who had been killed by the monster the last time the chamber was opened. Nothing else made sense.

Ron let out a loud laugh, showcasing his half-chewed food to everyone, "Myrtle?" he asked her, shaking his head. "Can't be."

But Matilda only looked at Harry, who nodded.

"No, Ron, it does make sense," he said, turning to his best friend. "Just think about it. A student who died in a bathroom at the school fifty years ago... I mean, who else —" He turned back to Matilda. "You're a genius, Tilly."

Flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder, Matilda smirked, "I know."

"All those times we were in that bathroom, and she was just three toilets away," said Ron bitterly, "and we could've asked her, and now..."

"We have to ask Myrtle how she died," said Harry.

Matilda sighed, "That's not going to be pretty..." she looked at both of them. "Or quiet."

It had been hard enough trying to look for spiders. Escaping their teachers long enough to sneak into a girls' bathroom, the girls' bathroom, moreover, right next to the scene of the first attack, was going to be almost impossible.

But something happened in their first lesson, Transfiguration, that drove the Chamber of Secrets out of their minds for the first time in weeks. Ten minutes into the class, Professor McGonagall told them that their exams would start on the first of June, one week from today.

Exams?" howled Seamus Finnigan, a Gryffindor with a thick accent. "We're still getting exams?"

"Of course, we're still getting exams," said Matilda, turning around in her front-row seat to look at the groaning faces behind her. "Why else would we still be in our classes?"

"Miss Winters is right," the class groaned again. "The whole point of keeping the school open at this time is for you to receive your education," she said sternly. "The exams will therefore take place as usual, and I trust you are all studying hard."

Studying was all Matilda Winters ever did. She had to. Some things didn't come naturally to her, and she hated it, but she made sure to make up for it. She read everything she could get her hands on. She would work out problems and practice spells for hours and hours, the same one over and over, until it had been perfected and she could do it all in her sleep. Matilda wanted to be the best. And she'd do anything to make sure she was.

"Professor Dumbledore's instructions were to keep the school running as normally as possible," she said. "And that, I need hardly point out, means finding out how much you have learned this year.

Matilda looked down at the pair of white rabbits she was supposed to be turning into slippers. A lot that was taught this year she'd already known. She always made sure of that. Starting her coursework over the summer, or even the year prior.

"I don't think I'm going to do too well on those exams," said Padma, sighing as she looked down at the fuzzy pair of earmuffs, where her two rabbits had just been.

Not great. But close enough.

Three days before their first exam, Professor McGonagall made another announcement at breakfast.

"I have good news," she said, and the Great Hall, instead of falling silent, erupted.

"Dumbledore's returned?" Matilda couldn't help the words that slipped right out of her lips.

Her eyes were bright as she waited for Professor McGonagall to speak.

You've caught the Heir of Slytherin!" squealed Cho Chang.

"Quidditch matches are back on!" roared Wood excitedly.

When the hubbub had subsided, Professor McGonagall said, "Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."

There was an explosion of cheering. Matilda caught Draco Malfoy's glare and she wasn't shocked at all to see that he and friends hadn't joined in. But beside him, Daisy Morgenstern clapped, a relieved smile on her lips and her eyes bright and hopeful

"You must be very excited, Tilly," said Luna from beside her. "Your friend Hermione is going to be okay."

Matilda shook her head, "Not my friend," she said, standing up. "But yes, she'll be fine."

She took her tray, made her way across the aisle, and sat in an empty spot across from Harry and Ron.

"Hermione's going to be livid when she wakes up," said Ron. "She'll go crazy when she finds out we've got exams in three days' time. She hasn't studied. It might be kinder to leave her where she is till they're over."

Matilda shook her head, "She'll be fine," she told him. "It's not like they won't allow some extra time to prepare for those who have been petrified. And I'll help her."

Ron's jaw dropped, "But you won't help me when I ask?"

"You're not petrified..." she reminded him.

Ron rolled his eyes.

Just then, Ginny Weasley came over and sat down next to Ron. She looked tense and nervous, and Matilda noticed that her hands were twisting in her lap.

"What's up?" said Ron, helping himself to more porridge.

Ginny didn't say anything but glanced up and down the Gryffindor table with a scared look on her face.

"Is she mute?" whispered Matilda.

Harry shook his head.

To be fair, she'd never actually talked to Ginny Weasley before.

"Spit it out," said Ron, watching her.

"I've got to tell you something," Ginny mumbled, carefully not looking at anyone, especially Harry.

"What is it?" said Harry.

Ginny looked as though she couldn't find the right words.

"What?" said Ron.

Ginny opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Matilda leaned forward and spoke so quietly that only Ron and Harry might hear what she was asking Ginny.

"Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets?" She didn't know why she was asking, Ginny didn't know her, it was unlikely she'd answer at all. "Have you seen something? Is someone acting oddly? Besides – well, besides yourself."

Ginny drew a deep breath and, at that precise moment, Percy Weasley appeared, looking tired and wan.

"If you've finished eating, I'll take that seat, Ginny. I'm starving, I've only just come off patrol duty."

Ginny jumped up as though her chair had just been electrified, gave Percy a fleeting, frightened look, and scampered away. Percy sat down and grabbed a mug from the center of the table.

"Percy!" said Ron angrily. "She was just about to tell us something important!"

Halfway through a gulp of tea, Percy choked.

"What sort of thing?" he said, coughing.

Matilda tilted her head, looking at Percy Weasley, "Worried it's about you?"

"I just asked her if she'd seen anything odd, and she started to say—"

"Oh—that—that's nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets," said Percy at once.

"And you would know, how?" said Matilda, her eyebrows raised.

"Well, er, if you must know, Ginny, er, walked in on me the other day when I was—well, never mind—the point is, she spotted me doing something and I, um, I asked her not to mention it to anybody. I must say, I did think she'd keep her word. It's nothing, really, I'd just rather—"

Percy shifted in his seat, wearing an uncomfortable expression on his face.

"What were you doing, Percy?" said Ron, grinning. "Go on, tell us, we won't laugh." Percy didn't smile back.

"I might," Matilda shrugged.

"Pass me those rolls, Harry, I'm starving."

Percy Weasley turned his head, seeming to just now notice it was Matilda Winters he sat beside. He looked down at her blue-colored robes and then back to her face, wearing a scowl.

"And just what are you doing at the Gryffindor table, Matilda Winters?" he asked, practically spitting the words at her. "Last time I checked you're a Ravenclaw."

Ron's eyebrows furrowed at his older brother, "You can't tell her where to sit, Percy!"

Percy's back straightened as he glowered down the bridge of his long nose at Ron, "As a matter of fact, I can, Ron. I'm a Prefect," he made sure to annunciate that word extra carefully to his brother.

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Matilda spoke before he had the chance to say anything more, "No need, Ron," she stood up, glaring at Percy. "I have better places to be than here anyhow."

Matilda knew that the mystery would not be solved like Harry and Ron were thinking. And she would not pass up a chance to question Myrtle should the opportunity turn up – and to her delight it did, midmorning when they were being led to History of Magic by Gilderoy Lockhart.

Lockhart, who had so often assured them that all danger had passed, only to be proved wrong right away, was now wholeheartedly convinced that it was hardly worth the trouble to see them safely down the corridors. His hair wasn't as sleek as usual; it seemed he had been up most of the night, patrolling the fourth floor.

"Mark my words," he said, ushering them around a corner. "The first words out of those poor Petrified people's mouths will be 'It was Hagrid.' Frankly, I'm astounded Professor McGonagall thinks all these security measures are necessary."

"I agree, sir," said Matilda, making Ron and Harry look over at her surprise, Ron even dropping his book.

"Thank you, Miss Winters," said Lockhart graciously while they waited for a long line of Hufflepuffs to pass. "I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with, without walking students to classes and standing guard all night..."

"You're exactly right, Professor," The words felt like vomit. Matilda smiled up at him with as much admiration as she could muster. She hoped she was a convincing enough liar. "Why don't you just leave us here, sir, we've just got a corridor to go–"

"You know, Matilda, I think I will," said Lockhart. "I really should go and prepare for my next class—"

"Of course, you should," said Matilda, encouragingly.

And he hurried off.

"Prepare his class," Ron sneered after him. "Gone to curl his hair, more like."

Harry was grinning, "You're a genius, Tilly."

They let the rest of their class draw ahead of them, they ran down a side passage and hurried off toward Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. But just as they were congratulating each other on the brilliant scheme—

"Potter! Weasley!... Miss Winters?"

It was Professor McGonagall, and she looked at Matilda with confusion.

"We were—we were " Ron stammered. "We were going to—to go and see—"

"Hermione," said Harry and Matilda together.

Ron and Professor McGonagall both looked at them.

"We haven't seen her for ages, Professor," Harry went on hurriedly, "and we thought we'd sneak into the hospital wing, you know, and tell her the Mandrakes are nearly ready and, er, not to worry—"

Professor McGonagall was still staring at him, and for a moment, Matilda thought she was going to explode..

"And Miss Winters, you're with them?" she asked, her eyebrows raising high.

She nodded quickly, "Yes, Professor," she said, hands clasped in front of her like the good student she is. "I felt I had a duty since I found her..."

Matilda dropped her head, hoping to draw some kind of sympathy.

"Of course," she said, and Matilda, amazed, saw a tear glistening in her beady eye. "Of course, I realize this has all been hardest on the friends of those who have been... I quite understand. Yes, Potter, of course, you may visit Miss Granger. I will inform your teachers about where you've gone. Tell Madam Pomfrey I have given my permission."

The three of them walked away, hardly daring to believe that they'd avoided a detention. As they turned the corner, they distinctly heard Professor McGonagall blow her nose.

"That," said Ron fervently to Harry, "was the best story you've ever come up with."

"Except now we have to go to the hospital wing," Matilda rolled her eyes.

They had no choice now but to go to the hospital wing and tell Madam Pomfrey that they had Professor McGonagall's permission to visit Hermione.

They really had no choice. They had to go to the hospital wing and tell Madam Pomfrey that Professor McGonagall had given them permission to visit Hermione. Or they risk getting caught in a lie.

Madam Pomfrey let them in, but reluctantly.

"There's just no point talking to a Petrified person," she said, and they had to admit she had a point when they'd taken their seats next to Hermione. It was plain that Hermione didn't have the faintest inkling that she had visitors and that they might just as well tell her bedside cabinet not to worry for all the good it would do.

"Wonder if she did see the attacker, though?" said Ron, looking at Hermione's rigid face. "Because if he sneaked up on them all, no one'll ever know..."

But Matilda wasn't looking at Hermione's face. She was more interested in her right hand. It kay clenched on top of her blankers, like she was still trying to hold the mirror they found with her. But bending closer, she saw that a piece of paper was scrunched inside her fist.

Making sure that Madam Pomfrey was nowhere near, she pointed this out to Ron and Harry.

"Go on and get it out," Ron whispered, shifting his chair so that he blocked Harry from Madam Pomfrey's view.

It was no easy task. Hermione's hand was clamped so tightly around the paper that Matilda was sure Harry was going to tear it. While Ron kept watch and Matilda offered her own advice on how to get the paper, Harry tugged and twisted, and at last, after several tense minutes, the paper came free.

It was a page torn from a very old library book. Harry smoothed it out eagerly and Ron and Matilda leaned in close to read it, too.

Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.

And beneath this, a single word had been written, in a hand Harry pointed out as Hermione's. Pipes.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

"That's it," she breathed. "This is it! This is the answer. The monster – The monster in the Chamber is a basilisk – a giant serpent! That's why Harry's been hearing the voices that nobody else has. It's because he's a Parseltongue."

Ron stared at her, "You got all that from one word?" he asked. "Pipes?"

Matilda rolled her eyes, ignoring him, "And that's why Hermione's alive," she said, though when she looked at Harry and Ron, it seemed she'd already lost them. "The mirror," Matilda told them. "The basilisk kills people by looking at them. But no one has died because no one looked at it straight in the eye. Colin saw it through his camera. Justin – Justing probably looked at through Nearly Headless Nick, who can't die twice. And Hermione and Penelope Clearwater were found with the mirror next to them. Hermione had probably realized what the monster was. I bet she warned the first person she met to look around the corners with a mirror first. And that girl pulled out her mirror, and..."

Ron's jaw had dropped.

"And Mrs. Norris?" Harry asked.

Matilda thought back to the night that they found Mrs. Norris. She remembered the scene of that Halloween.

"Water," she whispered. "The flood from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Mrs. Norris only saw the reflection..."

Harry looked down at the page in his hand, reading it over once more.

"'...The crowing of the rooster... is fatal to it!'" he read aloud. "Hagrid's roosters were killed! The Heir of Slytherin didn't want one anywhere near the castle once the Chamber was opened! 'Spiders flee before it!' It all fits!"

"We have to find a rooster," whispered Matilda. "Where are going to find a rooster?"

No one but her seemed interested in getting a rooster.

"But how's the basilisk been getting around the place?" said Ron. "A giant snake... Someone would've seen..."

"The pipes!" Matilda yelled at him. "For Merlin's sake, keep up, Ronald."

"Tilly you're right," said Harry.

She shrugged, "Shocker."

"Ron! Pipes! It's been using the plumbing. I've been hearing voices inside the walls," Harry beamed.

Matilda's face scrunched, "Best not to shout that little fact out, no?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, his voice now a whisper. "Probably best."

Ron suddenly grabbed Harry's arm.

"The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets!" he said hoarsely. "What if it's a bathroom? What if it's in—"

"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," said Harry.

Matilda gave Ron's shoulder a quick pat, "Now you're getting it."

They sat there, excitement coursing through them, hardly able to believe it. Except Matilda. She always knew she was right.

"This means," said Harry, "I can't be the only Parselmouth in the school. The Heir of Slytherin's one, too. That's how he's been controlling the basilisk."

"What're we going to do?" said Ron, whose eyes were flashing. "Should we go straight to McGonagall?"

"Oh, so now we want to tell the teachers?" Matilda rolled her eyes, but ultimately agreed, with the information they had, there was no way they couldn't figure everything out from here.

"Let's go to the staff room," said Harry, jumping up. "She'll be there in ten minutes. It's nearly time for break."

They ran downstairs. Not wanting to be discovered hanging around in another corridor, they went straight into the deserted staff room. It was a large, paneled room full of dark, wooden chairs. The three of them paced around it, too excited to sit down.

But the bell to signal break never came.

Instead, echoing through the corridors came Professor McGonagall's voice, magically magnified.

"All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please."

Harry wheeled around to stare at Ron and Matilda.

"Horrible timing," Matilda shook her head.

"What'll we do?" said Ron, aghast. "Go back to the dormitory?"

"No," said Harry, glancing around. There was an ugly sort of wardrobe to his left, full of the teachers' cloaks. "In here. Let's hear what it's all about. Then we can tell them what we've found out."

Matilda, Ron, and Harry all hid inside the wardrobe, listening to the rumbling of hundreds of people moving overhead, and the staff room door banging open. From between the musty folds of the cloaks, they watched teachers filtering into the room. Some of them were looking puzzled, others downright scared. Then Professor McGonagall arrived.

"It has happened," she told the silent staff room. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth. Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, "How can you be sure?"

"The Heir of Slytherin," said Professor McGonagall, who was very white, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.'"

Professor Flitwick burst into tears.

"Who is it?" said Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair. "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley," said Professor McGonagall.

Harry felt Ron slide silently down onto the wardrobe floor beside him.

Matilda went still and she felt Ron slide silently down onto the wardrobe floor beside her. She looked at Harry unsure of what to do. He was watching, his eyes sad.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Matilda slid down beside of him, and put her hand on his shoulder. This was the most she could offer. She never really had to be there for someone like this before. For her, this was uncharted territory.

"We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow," said Professor McGonagall. "This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said..."

The staff room door banged open again. For one wild moment, Matilda was sure it would be Dumbledore. But it was Lockhart, and he was beaming.

"So sorry—dozed off—what have I missed?"

He didn't seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him with something remarkably like hatred. Snape stepped forward.

"Just the man," he said. "The very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last."

Lockhart blanched.

"That's right, Gilderoy," chipped in Professor Sprout. "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

Of course, he'd been telling people that. Matilda wanted to scoff but didn't.

"I—well, I—" sputtered Lockhart.

"Yes, didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?" piped up Professor Flitwick.

"D-did I? I don't recall—"

"I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," said Snape. "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?"

Lockhart stared around at his stony-faced colleagues.

"I—I really never—you may have misunderstood—"

"We'll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy," said Professor McGonagall. "Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last."

Lockhart gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to the rescue. He didn't look remotely handsome anymore. His lip was trembling, and in the absence of his usually toothy grin, he looked weak-chinned and feeble. It was almost quite funny.

"V-very well," he said. "I'll—I'll be in my office, getting—getting ready."

And he left the room.

"Right," said Professor McGonagall, whose nostrils were flared, "that's got him out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories?"

The teachers rose and left, one by one.

No afternoon ever lasted as long as that one, nor had the Ravenclaw Tower ever been so crowded, yet so quiet. Near sunset, everyone slowly started to wander back to their dorms, whispering about the tragedy and loss of Ginny Weasley.

She'd known something. Ginny knew something. That had to be why she was taken. Matilda reeled inside her own head. Her gaze stared strongly at the blazing fire before her. Luna and Padma talked beside her, but she heard nothing.

It couldn't have been some stupid thing about Percy. She had to have known something about the Chamber of Secrets. Matilda knew the Weasleys were purebloods. The basilisk hadn't been after them. There was no other reason it would have taken her.

Matilda could see the sun sinking, blood red, below the skyline. There had to be something that could be done.

"Tilly," said Luna, her cheeks stained with tears. She'd become friends with Ginny Weasley, Matilda remembers seeing them together often. "Do you think there's a chance? Perhaps a chance that she's not..."

Matilda didn't know what to say. She didn't believe in false hope. She wouldn't tell Luna that Ginny would be okay when she, herself, didn't see how she could be.

"I going," said Matilda suddenly, standing quickly.

Padma and Luna rose with her, "Where to?" they asked. "We've been told not to leave our common areas."

"I'll be fine," she assured them.

She had no doubt that she wouldn't be fine. Let the monster come after her, she thought, she wished it would.

Matilda marched down the stairs, unsure of where her feet were leading her. She was too far into her thoughts to care. She was just relieved to be out of her common room. Somewhere quiet. Empty.

Though before she knew it...

"Tilly?"

She looked up, suddenly pulled from the swarm of thoughts drowning her brain. It was Harry. Harry and Ron, standing before her, their eyebrows pulled together, confused.

"What are you two doing out here?" she asked them.

Ron shrugged, "Coming for you," he said. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know," Matilda told them. "Just needed to be anywhere but in my room, I suppose."

Harry nodded, looking as if he felt the same as her.

"D'you know what?" said Ron, looking between the two of them. "I think we should go and see Lockhart. Tell him what we know. He's going to try and get into the Chamber. We can tell him where we think it is, and tell him it's a basilisk in there."

Darkness was falling as they walked down to Lockhart's office. There seemed to be a lot of activity going on inside it. They could hear scraping, thumps, and hurried footsteps.

Harry knocked and there was a sudden silence from inside. Then the door opened the tiniest crack and they saw one of Lockhart's eyes peering through it.

"Oh—Mr. Potter—and others—" he said, opening the door a bit wider. "I'm rather busy at the moment—if you would be quick—"

"Professor, we've got some information for you," said Harry. "We think it'll help you."

"Er—well—it's not terribly—" The side of Lockhart's face that they could see looked very uncomfortable. "I mean—well all right—"

He opened the door and they entered.

His office had been almost completely stripped. Two large trunks stood open on the floor. Robes, jade green, lilac, midnight blue, had been hastily folded into one of them; books were jumbled untidily into the other. The photographs that had covered the walls were now crammed into boxes on the desk.

"Packing for an early vacation?" said Matilda.

"Er, no, well, yes," said Lockhart, ripping a life-size poster of himself from the back of the door as he spoke and starting to roll it up. "Urgent call—unavoidable—got to go—"

"What about my sister?" said Ron jerkily.

"Well, as to that—most unfortunate—" said Lockhart, avoiding their eyes as he wrenched open a drawer and started emptying the contents into a bag. "No one regrets more than I—

"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" said Harry. "You can't go now! Not with all the Dark stuff going on here!"

"Well—I must say—when I took the job—" Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes. "Nothing in the job description—didn't expect—"

"Didn't think you'd have to use defense against the dark arts?" asked Matilda, arms crossed.

"You mean you're running away?" said Harry disbelievingly. "After all that stuff you did in your books—"

"Books can be misleading," said Lockhart delicately.

"You wrote them!" Harry shouted.

"My dear boy," said Lockhart, straightening up and frowning at Harry. "Do use your common sense. My books wouldn't have sold half as well if people didn't think I'd done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He'd look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a harelip. I mean, come on—"

"So, you've stolen stories from other people," said Matilda, grinning, but only because she's been right all this time. "Stolen their accomplishments too."

"Children," said Lockhart, shaking his head impatiently, "it's not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn't remember doing it. If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's my Memory Charms. No, it's been a lot of work, Miss Winters. It's not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog."

He banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them.

"Let's see," he said. "I think that's everything. Yes. Only one thing left."

He pulled out his wand and turned to them.

"Awfully sorry, children, but I'll have to put a Memory Charm on you now. Can't have you blabbing my secrets all over the place. I'd never sell another book—"

Harry reached his wand just in time. Lockhart had barely raised his, when Harry bellowed, "Expelliarmus!"

Lockhart was blasted backward, falling over his trunk; his wand flew high into the air; Ron caught it, and flung it out of the open window.

Matilda nodded, tucking her own wand back into the waistband of her skirt, "Nice one."

"Shouldn't have let Professor Snape teach us that one," said Harry furiously, kicking Lockhart's trunk aside. Lockhart was looking up at him, feeble once more. Harry was still pointing his wand at him.

"What d'you want me to do?" said Lockhart weakly. "I don't know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There's nothing I can do."

"Well, you're in luck," said Matilda, watching as Harry forced Lockhart to his feet at wandpoint. "Because we just might know where it is, and what's inside."

They marched Lockhart out of his office and down the nearest stairs, along the dark corridor where the messages shone on the wall, to the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

They sent Lockhart in first. Matilda was pleased to see that he was shaking.

Moaning Myrtle was sitting on the tank of the end toilet.

"Oh, it's you," she said when she saw them. "What do you want this time?"

"How did you die, Myrtle?" asked Matilda.

Myrtle's whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then—" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I died."

"How?" said Harry.

"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away..." She looked dreamily at Harry. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

Matilda groaned, "Where did you see the eyes?"

"Somewhere there," said Myrtle, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet.

Harry and Ron hurried over to it. Lockhart was standing well back, a look of utter terror on his face. Matilda stood behind him, hand already on the hilt of her wand.

From where she stood it looked like an ordinary sink. They examined every inch of it, inside and out, including the pipes below. Harry began scratching on the side of it, looking at something intently.

"That tap's never worked," said Myrtle brightly as Harry tried to turn it.

"Harry," said Ron. "Say something. Something in Parseltongue."

Harry looked unsure. Did he even know how to read Parseltongue? Likely not, since he just learned what a Parseltongue is. He looked back at Matilda, his eyes asking her for help. She merely shrugged. He was the one who spoke the snake language, not her.

"Open up," he said.

Matilda's jaw dropped.

"He can't be serious," she whispered.

Harry tried again.

And the words weren't English. A strange hissing has escaped him, and at once the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. The next second, the sink began to move; the skin, in fact, sank right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a grown man to slide into.

Matilda gasped.

"I'm going down there," Harry said.

"Me too," said Ron.

There was a pause.

"Oh! No, no, not me," she laughed, shaking her head and taking another step back and away from the hole. "I'll just love to tell the tale."

Ron and Harry nodded as if they'd expected this.

"And, you hardly seem to need me," said Lockhart, with a shadow of his old smile. "I'll just—"

He put his hand on the doorknob, but Matilda pointed her wand at him.

"They'll need someone to go first."

White-faced and wandless, Lockhart approached the opening.

"Children," he said, his voice feeble. "Children, what good will it do?"

"So much good, Professor," said Matilda sweetly, following him over toward Harry and Ron. "You'll be the bait."

She jabbed him in the back with his wand. Lockhart slid his legs into the pipe.

"I really don't think—" he started to say, but Ron gave him a push, and he slid out of sight.

Harry moved to follow after him until Matilda cleared her throat, catching both their attention.

"You should be careful down there..." Her voice was slow and awkward as if she didn't know how to say the words she was trying to. "Good luck, and try to stay alive, I guess..."

After a nod, Harry lowered himself slowly into the pipe, then let go. Ron followed right after him. Matilda could hear them thudding slightly on the sides of the pipe. When she heard them crash at the bottom, she took a deep breath, looking down the hole one last time, before stepping away from it. 

She waited and she waited for what felt like ages. She'd paced the bathroom floors a thousand times over. Something should have happened by now. Anything. But there'd been no sign of anything.

Matilda had tried to leave. She'd told herself that she'd done all she could for them. She got them here, she didn't need to follow them inside of some creepy pipe that fell beneath the school. Matilda followed the rules. She was an exemplary student. Her talents always showed themselves, she didn't have to involve herself in dangerous and troublesome situations to make them known. Not like Harry Potter and his two friends.

But she hadn't left. Hadn't been able to convince herself to walk outside of the old bathroom door. Surely her prolonged absence has been noticed. Professor Flitwick was probably out looking for her, worried blue in the face. She knew this. She could see it in her head. And yet, she couldn't leave. She couldn't take that last step into the halls.

The constant dripping of the broken sink echoed through the empty room. Matilda watched it. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Over and over again, the rhythm was steady, non-faltering.

Until.

It sounded like an avalanche. Like the school was caving in on itself. The ground beneath her feet shook, and she backed against the stone wall, her eyes widening. A crash, bang, and blash, echoed from inside the pipes.

Matilda ran toward it, falling to her knees.

"Hello!" she yelled, her voice echoing down the drain. "Ron! Harry!" Matilda tried calling out to them. "What was that? What's happened? Hello!"

There was no answer, no matter how many times she yelled for them, pleading for them to tell her what was going on in the dark earth below.

Moaning Myrtle flew past her, settling down on the broken sink, it was still dripping, she released a long, melancholy sigh, picking at nails, despite having none, because she was dead — and a ghost.

"They won't hear you," she told Matilda. "Probably dead down there."

"It's no wonder no one liked you when you were alive! You're barely tolerable dead!" hissed Matilda, standing back on her feet.

As if on cue, Myrtle began wailing and soared off into her favorite stall, sniffling and mumbling about how no one liked her. It was no different from any other time she'd come into this bathroom.

Biting hard into her bottom lip, Matilda looked down the hole. She couldn't see anything. And since the loud crash, she hadn't heard anything either. It was as if nothing happened. Almost like no one had gone down in the first place, and that's when she decided.

Matilda was going in.

Pulling her wand out from the waistband of her skirt, Matilda sat down on the edge of the pipe and slid down into the darkness.

It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. She could see more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as theirs, which twisted and turned, sloping steeply downward, and she knew that she was falling deeper below the school than even the dungeons.

And then, just as she had begun to worry about what would happen when she hit the ground, the pipe leveled out, and she shot out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in. Matilda got to her feet, there was slime everywhere on the ground, but she could see where Ron, Harry, and even Lockhart had fallen onto it before her.

"This has to be miles beneath the school," whispered Matilda, even her whisper echoing in the black tunnel. She knew she was probably even under the lake.

Matilda stared into the darkness ahead.

"Lumos!" she waved her wand.

She went off, following the footsteps that walked farther into the darkness.

As she ventured further, she started to hear voices, a low grumbling, and a slight groan. She hurried toward it, making sure to have a tight grip on her wand, already running over the hundreds of different spells in her head that she could use to defend herself.

But she came to a stop. Lockhart on the ground, groaning and grumbling, Ron sitting near a dead-end looking beaten and solemn.

Despite the dread-filled scene before her, Matilda couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face when Ron turned to face her.

"Tilly?" His cheeks had traces of slime and mud on them. "You came?"

She sighed a breath of relief, "Yeah," Matilda nodded. "Yeah – are you okay? Where's Harry?"

Ron turned, looking at the wall behind him, and Matilda's stomach fell. She knew. Harry had gone behind that wall. That had been what she heard.

Matilda ran toward the wall, pounding with her fists, not caring about the burning that came after.

"Harry?" she called for him. "Harry, can you hear me?"

"Tilly! I can hear you!" she heard him, his voice muffled from the concrete that separated them. "I'm alright. Just stay with Ron, okay?"

"What do you want me to do Harry?"

She could blast this wall to smithereens if he needed her to.

"If I'm not back in an hour–"

Harry was trying to sound calm, but the quiver in his voice was there. He was scared.

"I'll try and shift some of this rock," said Ron, moving around, trying to find a loose piece of the rock that had fallen. But Matilda knew he wouldn't. And she knew she couldn't blast that wall either, because if it wasn't enchanted, it would fill this pipe, and kill them all. "So, you can — so you can back through. Okay, Harry?"

"See you in a bit..." said Harry, trying to invoke some confidence in Ron. "I'll the both of you in a bit."

"I'll see you in a bit, Ron," said Harry, his voice calm. "I'll see you both."

He didn't know that. Harry didn't know if he'd see either of them.

Ron was still moving along the wall. Frantically trying to find a piece that would make the entire thing crumble to the floor. He moved until Matilda placed a light hand on his shoulder, and he stopped, but he stared at that wall.

"Harry's going to be alright," Matilda told him, trying to sound sure. "He's – he's a very gifted wizard."

She knew her words would offer him nothing. Losing his sister and now his best friend. Matilda couldn't imagine what he might be feeling, or how she could help him.

"Do you believe that? Truly?"

Ron turned to her finally, his eyes glazed with tears.

She nodded furiously, "Yes – yes, of course I do," Matilda told him. "I wouldn't lie to you, would I?"

He shook his head, "Guess not."

Matilda didn't believe in giving false hope.

So, she would do anything to make sure it wasn't that. 

ϟ

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆

Almost to the end of part one of this book. Matilda's second year at Hogwarts is coming to an end.

Since we know Matilda a little bit better, what do we think about the character? Please keep in mind she is one of mine who is not meant to be the most likable. Frankly, she doesn't care about being liked. 

This chapter has been edited. You can tell if a chapter has been edited by looking at the title font (it'll look like this one) or at the end of every chapter, it'll have a stamp of the date it's been edited.

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As always, I ask that you leave comments on how you liked this chapter here. Comment all of your thoughts and theories here. Let me know your opinions on characters and views on characterization. Are we hating or liking Matilda? Any ideas on her role yet? I'm excited to read about all of your thoughts.

𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝟖/𝟑𝟎/𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑