Return to the Chamber

"I've had an idea!" Hermione yelled over her shoulder as she sprinted down the corridor and skidded to a halt at the top of the seventh floor stairs. She leapt down the steps three at a time, clinging to the banister for support but wishing she could fling herself down even faster.

She heard Ron's trainers squeak on the polished stone behind her. He could barely speak for gasping. "Hermione, wait!" he called to her. "Where are we going? The battle's about to start!"

They jumped the final few stairs to the landing, and Hermione instantly started dashed down yet another corridor. They were headed toward the mable staircase that led to the Entrance Hall.

"I've had an idea!" Hermione repeated impatiently. She was running at such at speed that she hardly felt in control of her body. Momentum had taken over. She barely managed to avoid colliding with a wall as she rounded a particularly sharp turn.

Ron made an exasperated sound. "Yes, I gathered that!" he shot back. "But you have loads of ideas and I'm wondering what this particular one concerns!"

They darted past the stairway leading up to Gryffindor Tower and continued their speedy trek toward the Great Hall. A sudden thought occurred to Ron, and he came to an abrupt stop. "Hermione!" he called out sharply. She stopped and look back at him with a very annoyed, Hermione-ish expression.

"You'd better not be running us off to the library," he said, and he narrowed his eyes apprehensively.

Hermione made an exasperated "tut" noise and caught Ron's wrist to pull him along. "I'm not, I swear!" she gasped. "Now would you please just hurry?" She moved to run off again, but Ron pulled her back.

"But the fighting..."he began. He pointed back down the hall. "My family's back there. Harry..." He looked almost green with worry.

Hermione's expression softened. She took a step toward him and held both his hands firmly in hers. She looked directly up into his face. "I know," she said seriously. "But this is for Harry. I need your help with this. Please." She squeezed his hands..

He gazed down at her for the briefest moment, and his eyes went slightly glassy. Then he squeezed her hands back bracingly and said, "Of course. Let's go." And they took off down the hall.

As they rushed forward, Ron only had blurred glimpses of the castle whipping by on either side. But he had a strong sense that he'd taken this route before. Quite a few times before. Were they headed for a classroom? The Divination Tower? But of all people, Hermione wouldn't be taking him there.

Hermione skidded to a halt in front of an old room bearing an OUT OF ORDER sign. She actually lost her balance on the slippery floor and half fell against the door. She peeled herself off and flung the door wide. They both hurried inside.

Ron instantly recognized the place and realized why the halls had seemed so familiar. They were in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He had come up here about a hundred times with Harry and Hermione in their second year to brew illegal polyjuice potion. But he still could not gather why Hermione had dragged him here.

Hermione hurried over to the sinks, and for a moment, Ron was sure she was about to start washing her hands. She turned the taps of the nearest sink on and off a few times. Then she ducked under the basin and started looking at the pipes beneath it, running her hands up and down the scummy iron.

Ron watched her for a moment, then ventured another question. "Want some help with...whatever it is you're doing?"

Hermione jerk her head around so fast that she accidentally smacked the lip of the sink. Ron winced, sure he was about to be yelled at. But Hermione did not look annoyed at him. She was flushed with excitement and smiling. "Actually, yes!" she said. "You'd know better than I!" Hermione stood up and gestured toward the row of sinks behind her. "Which one opens up into the Chamber of Secrets?" she asked.

Ron finally understood what Hermione was trying to do. He moved swiftly over to the exact middle basin and pointed at the cold-water tap. "Here," he said. "See the snake?" Ron remembered all too vividly his last adventure in this bathroom when he, Harry, and Lockhart had first opened the Chamber. He was sure he'd never forget that particular near-death experience. "But it won't open for us," he continued. "You need to be a Parslemouth. That's how Harry did it last time."

Hermione joined Ron at the sink and studied the crudely carved snake on the tap. It's eye glittered green with a miniscule emerald. "No, it's okay!" she was almost whispering. "That's why I brought you." She looked up at Ron, clearly expectant. He stared back at her blankly.

"Me?" He sounded confused again. "Not me. We need Harry. I can't speak Parsletounge."

"Yes, thank you, Ronald, I know that," snapped Hermione. "But we can't bother Harry just now. He needs all the time he has left to find that Diadem."

Ron continued to stare, completely at a loss. "So...what do you propose?"

Hermione groaned with impatience. "You can open it, Ron!" she said breathlessly. "You've seen it done. You know what to do." She sounded terrified but exhilarated. Ron could almost see her pulse throbbing in her neck.

Ron took another moment to think before speaking. "But that still doesn't make me a Parslemouth," he protested. "Honestly, Hermione, I don't think you've thought this through."

This comment earned Ron a quick smack on the arm. "Oh come on, Ron! Work with me. I know you aren't a Parslemouth but you still saw Harry do it once before. Copy it!"

"Copy it," Ron repeated lamely.

"Yes! Here, I can explain. I can't speak French. Nor can I understand it. But I can still say little things like 'bonjour' and 'sil vous plait.' Understand now?" Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

"Yeah...okay," said Ron, cottoning on. "Yeah! And I head Harry tell the locket to open up, too! I'm pretty sure I could fake it!" Ron took in an excited gulp of air and bent his mouth close to the snake tap. But then he paused and looked back at Hermione, clearly confused again.

"Still one thing I don't get," he said. "Why exactly are we reopening the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Ron!" Hermione nearly shrieked. "Basilisk fangs! We need them for the horcruxes! Hurry up, hurry up, HURRY UP!" She did a little anxious dance on the spot, huffing and puffing with impatience.

"Right!" said Ron. "One more thing, then." He stood up straight and began groping inside his robe sleeve.

Hermione half groaned, half wailed at the extra delay. Ron ignored her. He fished his wand out of his sleeve, held it aloft, and said loudly, "Accio broom!"

A few silent moments passed. Then, there was a sharp rapping at the window, and Ron's broomstick was hovering patiently outside, waiting to be let in like an obedient pet. Ron hurried over and flung the window open. The Comet 260 flew inside and hovered at attention, ready for action.

It was Hermione's turn to look bewildered. "Ron, what...?"

"Can't get back up without flying," he explained, cutting her off. "Fawkes helped us last time."

Hermione looked simultaneously stunned and ecstatic. "Ron! That was very smart!"

"Yeah, well..." Ron smirked and shrugged his shoulders in what he hoped was a blasé manner. Then he cleared his throat and tried to look serious again.

Newly bolstered by Hermione's praise, Ron grabbed his broom handle and marched over to the serpent sink. Hermione backed away a few steps, allowing Ron all the space he could need for the task at hand. She was a little afraid for him, though she would never tell Ron this. What if the plan backfired? Of course, there was every chance that nothing would happen at all. The Chamber just wouldn't respond to a non-Parslemouth. But wasn't there an equal chance that Voldemort had placed protective jinxes on the entrance, thus keeping imposters away from the Chamber? She did not like to think about it, and so put the thought aside.

Ron took a second bracing gulp of air and squared his shoulders with determination. He stared intently at the tap with the tiny carved snake and willed with all his might for the Chamber to open. "Open up!" he hissed, doing his best to mimic the spluttering, spitting noises he had once heard Harry make.

Hermione shook her hear. "English," she said simply.

Ron tried again, this time spitting harder and hissing louder and longer than before. But the sink still refused to stir. He felt his frustration growing, but quickly tried to suppress it. He felt sure that emotional distractions would only hinder him now.

Ron took a mental step back and tried to recall the few times he had heard Harry speak Parsletounge. The snake language was certainly composed of subtle hissing and guttural noises. But Harry never seemed to force the sounds out of his gut the way Ron was doing now. Harry's language seemed to flow from his voice box as smoothly and naturally as human speech. Perhaps, Ron thought, the key to mimicking Parsletounge was not to force it? Obviously a Parlesmouth doesn't have to force anything. Instead of the sounds, should he mimic the confidence behind them?

Ron ceased his strained concentration and relaxed his diaphram. He took three slow, claming breath. He felt his heartbeat slow slightly in his chest. He half closed his eyes, and the room blurred behind his lashes. The entire scene became dreamlike, less significant.

"Open up," he said again. But the effortless way the words came out made Ron sure it had not worked.

Suddenly, there was the grinding scrape of shifting stone, and a deep rumbling began vibrating deep below him and up through his legs. Ron's jaw dropped as he watched the sink slowly sink away into the floor, leaving a dark and narrow tunnel in it place. He turned wide-eyed to Hermione and saw the she was just as shocked as he.

"You...you did it!" She could hardly believe her eyes and ears. Ron had done it. He had made the same disgusting noises Harry made while speaking to snakes. There hadn't been a trace of discernible English in the sounds that had come from Ron's mouth. And while she had hoped Ron would be able to open the Chamber, she now realized that she never truly believed it possible. A recent memory popped into her mind, and she heard Xenophilius Lovegood's voice. You are not unintelligent, I gather, but narrow-minded. Well, perhaps Xeno was right. Perhaps she should bank on faith more often.

Hermione walked transfixed to the edge of the hole. She peered carefully over its side, trying to judge the distance to the bottom. But she couldn't even begin to guess. The tunnel was narrow, deep, and pitch black. She gulped. Hermione had always hated heights. And flying. Her hand instinctively sought out Ron's, and she gripped it tight.

Ron was surprised by her touch for a split second. But he held her small hand tightly in his own. He loved this, being able to touch Hermione. He assumed they were dating now, that they were finally official. Chamber, Ron! Focus on the gaping wide Chamber! He shook these distracting thought from his head and returned to the task at hand.

"So...there ya go," said Ron, gesturing to the hole as if presenting Hermione a present. "There's the Chamber for ya." His voice was somewhat squeakier than usual.

Hermione nodded blankly, and Ron noticed how wide her eyes had grown and how pale her lips were. He had rarely seen her so terrified. "Do you want me to go in alone?" he asked. There was no trace of jeering in his tone.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the magnetic depths of the chamber. She looked up at Ron and smiled. This was Ron's Gryffindor nature shining through. "How very chivalrous of you," she replied, just as seriously. "But we do this together. No way you go down there alone." Ron smiled warmly back at her. Then she added teasingly, "Besides, I've got the cup. You have to take me if you want to destroy it." She reached into her deep robe pocket and pulled out the small, golden horcrux.

Ron winked sideways at her. "Let's do this!" he said. And without a second's more hesitation, they jumped feet first into the Chamber.