* Lucy's POV *

For a few days, the school could talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back.

The gang and I had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone.

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

I know it sounds loads of rubbish but I understand him, seeing your pet cat that became your companion being petrified wasn't easy. Though, putting unlucky students in detention for little crappy reasons was still not acceptable.

I also felt weird these past few days, students from Gryffindor and even from the other houses -besides Slytherin, of course- constantly approach me and ask if I was feeling fine, worry etched across their faces. They informed me that I was paler than usual and looked so lifeless and sick, my dark bags around my eyes didn't help much either, earning a sermon from the one and only Hermione.

Here are the examples of her famous lines:

"You're so stubborn."

"What did I told you to do?"

"Go to the Hospital Wing."

"Come on, if you don't go there, I'll drag you myself."

Typical Hermione. Any road, I've never told anyone this, but when the night the attack occurred, I was there. Not intentionally, but still. I can't also tell it to anyone because it'll sound so suspicious and will ask me tons of questions which I certainly didn't like.

FLASHBACK:

I woke up that night lying on the cold floor, alone. Confusedly, I scanned my surroundings, only to find that I'm here in a dark corridor.

"When did I get here? Most importantly, how?" I muttered under my breath, still looking around. Seconds later, I noticed something thick and wet on my hands.

I lift both of it and saw a red gooey-like liquid. My eyes widened and I hastily wiped my hands on my robes, but stopped inches away when I realised it'll just make it worse, so I took my wand from my pocket and conjured a cleaning spell.

Even though the gooey thing's not on my hands anymore, I'm still nervous that it's blood. But that's impossible, where could it be from if it is blood?

I brushed the thoughts off and stood up, stretching up my limbs. "I swear, I'm going to kill those Doofus. How dare they leave me here?" I said, feeling slightly angry. Then all of a sudden, I saw a strange shadow from behind me.

Intrigued by it, I slowly turned around only to be face to face with a petrified Mrs. Norris who's hanged on the torch light handle by its tail and a horrendous message on the wall.

The scene's seemed very disturbing and gruesome to me since I own a cat and the feeling to see other animals in this state makes me wanna barf and just collapse. And that's what happened, I fainted due to shock and fright. Surprise surprise.

The last thing that slipped into my mind is : "I will surely kill those damn Doofus."

FLASHBACK ENDED:

Anyways, Ron from beside me was 'comforting' a crying Ginny who seems very disturbed by Mrs. Norris' fate; According to him, she was a great cat lover like moi.

"But you haven't really got to know Mrs. Norris," Ron told her bracingly. "Honestly, we're much better off without her." Ginny's lip trembled. "Stuff like this doesn't often happen at Hogwarts,"

I snorted. "Right..." Harry snickered while Ron mock-glowered at me.

Ron assured her. "They'll catch the maniac who did it and have him out of here in no time. I just hope he's got time to petrify Filch before he's expelled. I'm only joking -" Ron added hurriedly as Ginny blanched.

I let out an exasperated sigh, shutting down the book I'm reading and crawled next to Ginny, slinging my arm around her shoulders.

"Come on, It's all right, Ginny. I know well how you feel, I mean, I have a cat and I love animals as well so I understand that you're worried about Mrs. Norris and all these whatnots going on but you have to relax." I said soothingly, rubbing her shoulder.

"She's not dead, nobody's hurt, and- and Dumbledore's already trying to figure out who's the culprit behind all these. There's nothing to worry about."

Ginny sniffed, wiping up her tears. "O-okay, I think. I just- I mean..-"

I held up a hand to say 'shush', a polite way to shut up. See what I did there, eh! Eh? 'Eehhem' sorry about that, moving on. "Shh. You don't need to explain, Ginny. What I'm advising you to do is chill and relax, alright? Now, go on, do something that will hopefully distract you!"

She cracked a broad smile as she got to her feet. "I just have a great idea. Bye, thanks a lot, Lucy!" Then she left, skipping happily.

"My pleasure." I smiled, returning my attention to my book, ignoring the baffled faces of Harry and Ron.

"How did you do that?!"

"I'm just awesome and cool. What do you expect?" I replied, my eyes still glued on the book.

"You. Are. Bloody. Weird." Ron enunciated, shaking his head disbelievingly, and I caught a glimpse of a nodding Harry who's perhaps agreeing with Ron.

I looked up from the book and uttered in a sassy tone, snapping my fingers, "Life is boring without a little weirdness in them." Then proceeded in reading again.

~*~

Here we are, bored in the library. Ron and I's shoulders are slouched down as we wait for Harry and Hermione. That rhymes. Oh, well.

Ron's eyebrows are knotted in confusion and concentration as his eyes flickered side by side, reading his homework but since I'm done with it because it's just a piece of a cake to me, I'm not doing anything. Although, I got an idea.

I straightened up and bend down to my bag, reaching for my black diary. When I got it already, I grabbed a quill, dipped it into the ink and began writing.

Several minutes later, Harry arrived looking rather perplexed about something.

"Hey."

"Hey." I smiled at him, placing the diary back in my bag.

Harry found Ron measuring his History of Magic homework. Professor Binns had asked for a threefoot-long composition on "The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards."

"I don't believe it, I'm still eight inches short. . . ." said Ron furiously, letting go of his parchment, which sprang back into a roll. "And Lucy and Hermione's done four feet seven inches and their writing's tiny."

I chuckled. "The perks of being intelligent."

"Ha ha." Ron said dryly, rolling his eyes.

"Where is she?" asked Harry, grabbing the tape measure and unrolling his own homework.

"Somewhere over there," said Ron, pointing along the shelves. "Looking for another book. I think she's trying to read the whole library before Christmas. Hopefully, Lucy wouldn't end up like her, that would be bloody terrifying." He shuddered at the thought.

"Prat." I muttered, tossing a thin book at his direction.

Harry told Ron and I about Justin Finch-Fletchley running away from him.

"Dunno why you care. I thought he was a bit of an idiot," said Ron, scribbling away, making his writing as large as possible.

I looked down on his work. "Oi! That's cheating! You're cheating! You know I don't like it when people are cheating." I pouted.

But Ron wasn't listening. Rude much. "All that junk about Lockhart being so great -"

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

"All the copies of Hogwarts, A History have been taken out," she said, sitting down next to Harry and I. "And there's a two-week waiting list. I wish I hadn't left my copy at home, but I couldn't fit it in my trunk with all the Lockhart books."

"Why do you want it?" said Harry.

"The same reason everyone else wants it," said Hermione, "to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets."

"What's that?" said Harry quickly.

"That's just it. I can't remember," said Hermione, biting her lip. "Got any idea, Lucy?"

"Sorry, but I can't find the story anywhere else either."

"Hermione, let me read your composition," said Ron desperately, checking his watch.

"No, I won't," said Hermione, suddenly severe. "You've had ten days to finish it -"

"I only need another two inches, come on -"

The bell rang. Ron and Hermione led the way to History of Magic, bickering.

I groaned loudly, rolling my eyes so hard that I was sure one of my retinas had just detached itself. That was a bit hysterical, but could you blame me? They should just kiss each other and stop the talking. Simple as that.

~*~

History of Magic was the dullest subject on our schedule.

Professor Binns, who taught it, was our only ghost teacher, and the most exciting thing that ever happened in his classes was his entering the room through the blackboard.

Ancient and shriveled, many people said he hadn't noticed he was dead. He had simply got up to teach one day and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staffroom fire; his routine had not varied in the slightest since.

Today was as boring as ever. Professor Binns opened his notes and began to read in a flat

drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class was in a deep stupor, occasionally coming to long enough to copy down a name or date, then falling asleep again. He had been speaking for half an hour when something happened that had never happened before.

Hermione put up her hand.

Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed. That's unheard of...

"Miss - er - ?"

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.

Dean Thomas, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance; My head came up off Harry's shoulder and Neville's elbow slipped off his desk.

Professor Binns blinked. Ermahgerd, this is like the wildest History of Magic class ever!

"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with, facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk snapping and continued, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers -"

He stuttered to a halt when a hand was waving in the air again, this time though, it's mine.

"Miss Connelly?" Looks like getting names right is beyond even this jarring class of firsts...

"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?" Professor Binns was looking at me in such amazement. Told you I'm awesome.

"Well," said Professor Binns slowly, "yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peered at me and Hermione as though he had never seen a student properly before. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale -"

But the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns's every word. He looked dimly at

us all, every face turned to his. I could tell he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.

"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see . . . the Chamber of Secrets . . ."

We leaned in, eager to hear more about the Chamber.

"You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago - the precise date is uncertain - 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."

He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued.

"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."

Professor Binns paused again, pursing his lips, looking like a wrinkled old tortoise.

"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said. "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."

There was silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn't the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns's classes. There was unease in the air as we continued to watch him, hoping for more. Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed.

"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "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."

Hermione's hand was back in the air. Woah, Hermione can be really persuasive, huh?

"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," said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice. The class exchanged nervous looks.

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

"Nonsense, O'Flaherty," said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. "If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found the thing -"

"But, Professor," piped up Parvati Patil, "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," snapped Professor Binns. "I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore -"

"But maybe you've got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn't -" began Dean Thomas, but Professor Binns had enough.

"That will do," he said sharply. "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 bend down to Harry's ear level and said in a hushed tone, "You know, history isn't really solid or verifiable, and a lot of times people don't believe it. It's fluid and changes based on perception and new discoveries and what people want to believe."

"And you know, sometimes, I kinda wish I'm smart like you." He replied jokingly. I smacked his arm and laughed.

And within five minutes, the class had sunk back into its usual torpor.

~*~

"I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony," Ron told Harry, Hermione and I as we fought our way through the teeming corridors at the end of the lesson to drop off our bags before dinner. "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. . . ."

"Agree." I chirped, giving a nod. Hermione nodded fervently, but Harry didn't say anything.

As we were shunted along in the throng, Colin Creevey went past.

"Hiya, Harry!"

"Hullo, Colin," said Harry automatically.

"Harry - Harry - a boy in my class has been saying you're -"

But Colin was so small he couldn't fight against the tide of people bearing him toward the Great Hall; we heard him squeak, "See you, Harry!" and he was gone.

"What's a boy in his class saying about you?" I wondered.

"That I'm Slytherin's heir, I expect," said Harry, frowning.

"People here'll believe anything," said Ron in disgust.

The crowd thinned and we were able to climb the next staircase without difficulty.

"D'you really think there's a Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked Hermione.

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

As she spoke, we turned a corner and found ourselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened.

We stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message "The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened." I tensed but quickly covered it up.

"That's where Filch has been keeping guard," Ron muttered. We looked at each other. The corridor was deserted.

"Can't hurt to have a poke around," said Harry, dropping his bag and getting to his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues.

"Scorch marks!" he said. "Here - and here -" What kind of animal leaves a scorch marks?

"Come and look at this!" said Hermione. "This is funny. . . ."

Harry got up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack.

A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.

"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" Hermione and I said simultaneously.

"No," said Harry, "have you, Ron? Ron?"

I looked over my shoulder. Ron was standing well back and seemed to be fighting the impulse to run. I remember he has arachnaphobia, the fear of spiders.

"What's up?" said Harry.

"I - don't - like - spiders," said Ron tensely.

"I never knew that," said Hermione, looking at Ron in surprise. "You've used spiders in Potions loads of times. . . ."

"I don't mind them dead," said Ron, who was carefully looking anywhere but at the window. "I just don't like the way they move. . . ." Hermione and I giggled.

"It's not funny," said Ron, fiercely. "If you two must know, when I was three, Fred turned my - 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 . . . Lucy pulled a --a prank on me with the twins, a pile of disgusting little demon spiders went plummeting down on me. It was bloody horrible."

He broke off, shuddering. I was obviously still trying not to laugh and it seemed like Hermione's having the same problem.

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

"It was about here," said Ron, recovering himself to walk a few paces past Filch's chair and pointing. "Level with this door."

He reached for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand as though he'd been burned.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"Can't go in there," said Ron gruffly. "That's a girls' toilet."

"Oh, Ron, there won't be anyone in there," said Hermione, standing up and coming over. "That's Moaning Myrtle's place. Come on, let's have a look."

And ignoring the large out of order sign, she opened the door.

Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror were a row of chipped sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.

Hermione put her fingers to her lips and set off toward the end stall. When she reached it she said, "Hello, Myrtle, how are you?"

The boys and I went to look. Moaning Myrtle was floating above the tank of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin.

"This is a girls' bathroom," she said, eyeing Ron and Harry suspiciously. "They're not girls." Way to state the obvious.

"No," Hermione agreed. "I just wanted to show them how - er - nice it is in here." She waved vaguely at the dirty old mirror and the damp floor. Real convincing, Hermione.

"Ask her if she saw anything," Harry mouthed at Hermione.

"What are you whispering?" said Myrtle, staring at him. "Nothing," said Harry quickly. "We wanted to ask -"

"I wish people would stop talking behind my back!" said Myrtle, in a voice choked with tears. "I do have feelings, you know, even if I am dead -"

"Myrtle, no one wants to upset you," said Hermione. "Harry only -"

"No one wants to upset me! That's a good one!" howled Myrtle. "My life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along ruining my death!"

"We wanted to ask you if you've seen anything funny lately," I said quickly. "Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door on Halloween."

"Did you see anyone near here that night?" said Harry.

"I wasn't paying attention," said Myrtle dramatically. "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," said Ron helpfully.

Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose up in the air, turned over, and dived headfirst into the toilet, splashing water all over us and vanishing from sight, although from the direction of her muffled sobs, she had come to rest somewhere in the U-bend.

Harry and Ron stood with their mouths open, but Hermione shrugged wearily and said, "Honestly, that was almost cheerful for Myrtle. . . . Come on, let's go."

Harry had barely closed the door on Myrtle's gurgling sobs when a loud voice made all four of us jump.

"RON!"

Percy Weasley had stopped dead at the head of the stairs, prefect badge agleam, an expression of complete shock on his face.

"That's a girls' bathroom!" he gasped. "What were you - ?"

"Just having a look around," Ron shrugged. "Clues, you know -"

Percy swelled in a manner that reminded me forcefully of Mrs. Weasley.

"Get - away - from - there -" Percy said, striding toward us and starting to bustle them along, flapping his arms. "Don't you care what this looks like? Coming back here while everyone's at dinner -"

"Why shouldn't we be here?" said Ron hotly, stopping short and glaring at Percy. "Listen, we never laid a finger on that cat!"

"That's what I told Ginny," said Percy fiercely, "but she still seems to think you're going to be expelled, I've never seen her so upset, crying her eyes out, you might think of her, all the first years are thoroughly over excited by this business -"

"But I thought she's okay now? She left after I comforted her with a big smile on her face." I piped up, genuinely confused.

"Ya, and you don't care about Ginny," said Ron, whose ears were now reddening. "You're just worried I'm going to mess up your chances of being Head Boy -"

"Five points from Gryffindor!" Percy said tersely, fingering his prefect badge. "And I hope it teaches you a lesson! No more detective work, or I'll write to Mum!"

And he strode off, the back of his neck as red as Ron's ears.

~*~

The trio and I chose seats as far as possible from Percy in the common room that night. Ron was still in a very bad temper and kept blotting his Charms homework. When he reached absently for his wand to remove the smudges, it ignited the parchment.

"Ooo," I winced. "You really need a new wand."

"No kidding." He agreed, sighing.

Fuming almost as much as his homework, Ron slammed The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 shut. To Harry and I's surprise, Hermione followed suit.

"Who can it be, though?" she said in a quiet voice, as though continuing a conversation we had just been having. "Who'd want to frighten all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?"

"Let's think," said Ron in mock puzzlement. "Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum?"

He looked at Hermione. Hermione looked back, unconvinced.

"If you're talking about Malfoy -"

"Of course I am!" said Ron. "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 -"

"Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?" I asked skeptically, closing my book shut.

"Look at his family," said Harry, closing his books, too. "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."

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

"Well," said Hermione cautiously, "I suppose it's possible. . . ."

"But how do we prove it?" said Harry darkly.

"There might be a way," said Hermione slowly, dropping her voice still further with a quick glance across the room at Percy. "Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We'd be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect -" Being the smart girl I am, I quickly caught up on what she's saying. And I like the sound of it. *evil laugh*

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

"All right," said Hermione coldly. "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."

"But that's impossible," Harry said as Ron laughed.

"No, it's not," I said. "All we'd need would be some Polyjuice Potion."

"What's that?" said Ron and Harry together.

"Snape mentioned it in class a few weeks ago -"

"D'you think we've got nothing better to do in Potions than listen to Snape?" muttered Ron.

"It transforms you into somebody else. Think about it! We could change into three 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."

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

"It wears off after a while," said Hermione, waving her hand impatiently. "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."

There was only one way to get out a book from the Restricted Section: You needed a signed note of permission from a teacher.

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

"I think," said Hermione, "that 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," said Ron. "They'd have to be really thick. . . ."

I have one person in mind, though Hermione will probably be not happy about it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hello! Sorry guys for not updating these past few days. I feel bloody awful! Please forgive me , okay? Anyway, If you like this chapter, don't forget to click the star button 'like', comment anything you want, and follow me for no reason. :) PEACE! XD