The Legacy of the Founders

THE LEGACY OF THE FOUNDERS

Chapter Four: Back to the Chamber

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before.

--Edgar Allan Poe, 'The Raven'

* * *

"He hid it where?" Ron asked.

"In the Chamber of Secrets," Hermione said again.

A heavy silence settled over the entire group, echoing like thunder in the empty and cavernous library. "But--" Ron began, though he didn't finish, because at that moment the chair beside him went crashing to the ground as Harry dashed around the table.

"Ginny--"

Hermione looked quickly at the younger girl. She was shaking in her seat and staring at the table as though she was seeing right through it, and her knuckles, gripping the edges of her chair, were as white as bone. Her face, too, was startlingly pale.

"Ginny!" Harry said again, louder this time. Ginny gave a start, as though she was jerking awake suddenly, and looked up at Harry. "Are you okay?" Harry asked, his hand on the back of her chair.

Ginny nodded absently, staring at Harry with the same blank gaze she had used on the table. Ron was out of his chair and standing beside Harry in a second, asking what was wrong; but Harry silenced him quickly. Even Draco seemed to have paled slightly, though it was hard to tell with his complexion.

"Ginny, it's okay," Harry said reassuringly. He looked up at Hermione. "We'll finish this later."

Those words, more than any others Harry had spoken, seemed to snap Ginny out of her reverie. "No!" she said firmly, looking at Harry with imploring eyes. "I'm okay. I want to hear it."

"Ginny--"

"I'm not going," Ginny interrupted Harry adamantly. "I told you I was okay. I want to hear the rest."

Harry looked at her for a long time, and although Ginny was unable to meet his eyes, she nevertheless looked firm in her resolve. When Harry looked over at Hermione, all Hermione could do was shrug, so Harry sighed and sat down on one of the seats beside Ginny, still watching her with concern. Ron, after asking again if Ginny was okay - to which he received a vigorous nod in reply - returned to his side of the table and sat down. And on the other side of the table, Draco was watching Ginny with a curious gaze, as though he was puzzling something out in his mind.

Hermione glanced briefly at Harry for reassurance; he nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Okay. Well," she began again, "as I was saying, Slytherin hid the stone in...his chamber, but as I was also saying," she looked up again, "it's only a rumour."

"It doesn't matter," said Harry, shaking his head. "If there's even a slight chance that it's down there, we have to do something about it."

"But why?" said Ron, straightening up in his chair. "I mean...as long as it's inside Hogwarts, it's safe isn't it? And if this is the only book that mentions where it is...."

"It is," Hermione concurred, "but there are two copies."

"So where's the other one?" Ron asked warily.

"At the Manor," said Draco in a resigned tone of voice.

"At the Manor!" Ron echoed with wide eyes. Then he laughed hollowly. "Well, there goes that idea. Malfoy's poncy father can just waltz in and take it whenever he wants!"

"Watch what you say about my father, Weasley" Draco snarled.

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Harry interrupted him. "It doesn't matter anyway," he said. "We need to get the stone. Voldemort's already been inside the castle twice - we can't risk him getting in again. I just don't think it's as secure as we think it is."

Ron turned away from Draco and lowered his head in thought, though he obviously agreed with Harry. Draco was the next to speak, in his calm, measured tone that gave Hermione the sense that he wasn't afraid at all. "Supposing we can find this pommel stone," he said, "what then? What do we do with it?"

"Well, the book says there's a way to destroy it," Hermione explained, looking down at the pages she had open as though she expected to find the answer on it.

"There is a difference between being able to destroy something," said Draco, "and actually knowing how to destroy it."

"Well, yes," Hermione conceded, still perusing the page she had open, "but I thought the answer might be in here somewhere."

"Somewhere among those...how many pages?" asked Draco.

"Five hundred," Hermione replied weakly.

"Right," Draco sighed.

"Well, I don't think we have a choice," said Harry, his voice commanding, as it always was when his mind was set on something. "If Voldemort puts this sword together, he'll be even more powerful than before, and we can't let that happen. So...." He trailed off, his eyes darkening.

"We have to go into the Chamber," Hermione finished for him.

Harry nodded. "But not 'we' - I'll go."

"On your own?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Well, if Ron wants to...." Harry turned to Ron, who shifted nervously in his chair.

"Well..." said Ron, "I mean...I'm sure you don't really need my help, and I'd probably just get in the way and all...."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "There won't be any spiders, Ron."

"Still...."

"It's okay," said Harry. "I'll go by myself."

"The hell you will," said Draco. "You think I'm going to put my life in your clumsy hands while I sit around here doing nothing?"

"That's exactly what you're going to do," Harry said fiercely. "You're not coming with me."

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and quickly found her voice. "Well, actually," she said timidly, "I think that it might be better if Draco went with you. I mean," she added hastily, as both Harry and Ron glared at her, "Slytherin would have made sure that only he could get the stone, or - if he wasn't around - one of his heirs." She finished apprehensively, wondering who would be the first to bite her head off. Harry, however, removed the angry look from his face.

"Maybe," he said contemplatively, and then turned to Draco. "Fine. You can come. But--"

"Wait a second," Ron interrupted, looking bewildered. "How do we know we can trust him? What if he just wants the stone so he can give it to Voldemort?"

"Ron!" Hermione chided him. "Draco would never do something like that!"

"How do we know that, Hermione?" Ron asked, turning his loathing eyes on Draco. "How do we know all this turning-over-a-new-leaf crap is really true? He could be passing information along to Voldemort the entire time and we'd never know it."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak again, but Draco had already joined the argument. "If you've got a problem with me, Weasley, I'll be happy to thrash it out with you - and thrash you in the process - but I'm going into that Chamber whether you like it or not." He finished with a look of such malice that Hermione herself cowered under it. Ron, though, seemed unfazed, and merely looked back at Draco with an equal amount of contempt.

"This isn't helping," Harry said reprovingly. After one last scornful look at Draco, Ron turned away and crossed his arms firmly over his chest. A cruel smile crept over Draco's face and he too folded his arms. His gaze fell back on Harry, who was returning it just as unflinchingly as Ron had. "I don't trust you either," Harry said bluntly, "but Hermione's right and we might need you - so you can come. But I'll be keeping both my eyes on you, and if you do anything to endanger us--"

"Yeah, yeah," said Draco, "you'll pop my head like a Butterbeer cork - I get it." He set his jaw rigidly and continued to stare at Harry with defiance. Well, this is pleasant, thought Hermione.

Finally, after he had turned away from Draco - who assumed another self-satisfied smirk - Harry addressed Hermione with the same unwavering determination that she had seen in him so many times before. "Malfoy and I will go down to the Chamber then," he said, "and the three of you can try to find something in that book about destroying the stone."

Hermione nodded and was about to speak when Ginny opened her mouth. "I want to come too," she said.

Harry's steadfast resolve vanished in an instant and he looked merely confused. "What?"

"I want to come with you," said Ginny.

"But...." Harry looked at a loss for words. "Ginny, no."

"I want to come, Harry!" Ginny said earnestly. She sounded determined, Hermione thought, but there was also fear in her voice, and uncertainty.

Harry shook his head. "No," he said decisively. "There's no way--"

"Harry!" Ginny protested. "I want to."

Hermione turned quickly to Ron. "Uh...maybe we should go and find some more books to help us with the translation."

"Er...right," said Ron, getting to his feet. Hermione looked pointedly at Draco, but he didn't see her - he was watching Ginny and Harry's discourse with mild interest, so Hermione disappeared into the stacks with Ron.

* * *

Ginny sat up straighter and tried to assume what she hoped was an adamant expression. It didn't help that Draco was looking at her with an amused smile on his face.

"You're not coming, Ginny," Harry said again. His concern touched Ginny deeply, but she wouldn't be deterred. Harry would never respect her if she didn't learn to handle these things.

"I have to," she said. "I have to face my fears, Harry - like you do." She looked imploringly at him, but he seemed more baffled than anything.

"But...your dreams," he said.

Ginny's face became slightly hot. She wished Harry wouldn't mention her dreams in front of Draco, whose brow had now creased with curiosity. "I know," she said. "But maybe they'll stop if I do this. Maybe I just need some closure."

"Not like this," said Harry.

"Let her come if she wants to," Draco said behind Harry.

Harry rounded on Draco with fury in his eyes. "No one's talking to you!"

Draco shrugged. "All right, but you can't stop her."

Ginny smiled faintly at Draco, but quickly straightened her face when Harry turned back around. She felt an enormous amount of gratitude for the Slytherin boy, who, she realised, was the only person she knew that truly treated her like an adult. And now that she had Draco's vote, she was certain that she wouldn't be discouraged. She crossed her arms over her chest, the way Draco had, and raised her chin stubbornly. "I'm going, Harry."

Harry's eyes bored into hers for several long seconds, during which Ginny almost felt her resolve slip away. It was like staring into the sun again - she wanted desperately to look away and hide her face, but if she did Harry would see the weakness and her cause would be lost. So she held his gaze, and almost trembled with the effort.

At last, Harry sighed. "Fine," he said, and Ginny thought he sounded disappointed. "You can come if you want to. But I think it's a mistake."

Did he really think her that frail? Ginny wondered. Perhaps he thought even less of her than she'd realised. It made her feel empty inside. "Thank you," she said softly, finally lowering her eyes.

Hermione and Ron returned to the table a minute later, unsurprisingly without any extra books. Ginny saw Hermione look at Harry, and Harry shrug. It was like they were all adults and she was just a child whose fate they were deciding. I hate this, Ginny thought to herself.

"Okay, so, I think we should do this as soon as possible," Hermione said once she had sat down again. "It'll be harder to get into the Chamber once the rest of the school comes back, and we don't have to worry about being seen as much now. But," she added, "we have to find out how to destroy the stone first." She looked up at Draco. "Can you help?"

Draco nodded, as smoothly and precisely as every other movement he made. Ron looked confused. "Why is he helping?"

"Because he knows Latin," Hermione replied frankly.

"He does?" said Ron.

"Yes," said Hermione, a little impatiently. "And he's right there Ron, so you don't have to speak about him in the third person."

Ron turned and glared at Draco, as though he had done something wrong.

"I also," Hermione said hastily, before another quarrel could erupt, "think that Draco should owl his mother and ask her to send us the other book, just in case. If -" she added anxiously, looking at Draco, "- if that's all right with you?"

Draco simply nodded.

"Okay then," said Hermione, exhaling a short breath, "Draco and I will stay here and try to find the information we need, and you three can...um...."

"Wait," Harry said grimly.

"Right," Hermione replied guiltily. "But it shouldn't be too long."

Harry nodded and got to his feet. "Just let us know when you find it." And with that he left the library, without looking at Ginny once. She felt her heart sink and her eyes start to sting.

"It's okay," said Hermione, putting a comforting hand on Ginny's arm. "He'll come around. He's just worried about you."

"He thinks I won't be able to handle it," said Ginny, grateful that she had Hermione to confide in. "He thinks I'm just a kid."

"Of course he doesn't," Hermione replied dismissively. "I think he really respects the fact that you're willing to face your fears."

"Then why doesn't he want me to come?" Ginny asked unhappily.

"Well, why do you think?" Ginny looked back at Hermione with an uncomprehending look. "He's afraid," Hermione explained gently. "The last time he saw you in there, you were almost dead. Harry's saved a lot of people's lives before, but very few were ever in as much danger as you were. And I think now that he knows you still think about it, he blames himself, and he doesn't want anything else to happen to you."

Ginny felt her heart leap up again, and then fall just as quickly. "That's only because he thinks I'm weak," she said, looking at the floor. "Voldemort took you and Harry doesn't treat you like a kid."

"Well, maybe that's because Harry doesn't feel the same way about me as he does about you," Hermione pointed out. Ginny looked up and felt her lips twitching into a smile. Could he? Did he? Was it really true? I doubt it, Ginny thought despondently.

Hermione gave her a reassuring smile and turned back to her book. Draco stood up and stalked towards the doors, clutching in his left hand the quick note he'd written to his mother. And Ron, Ginny realised, had already gone, so she got to her feet, bade goodbye to Hermione, and left the library.

* * *

Ron found Harry sitting in front of the common room fire, his head on his palm and a dismal expression on his face. He took the seat beside him and stuck his hands out to warm them up. "You okay?" he asked Harry.

"Fine," Harry mumbled, without turning his head.

"Ah, so you've extended the definition of 'fine' to include 'utterly miserable'," said Ron sagely. Harry turned towards him and smiled. "Are you bummed about going back to the Chamber?" Ron asked more seriously.

Harry shrugged, which Ron took as a definite 'yes'. "I just hate that place," said Harry.

"Me too," said Ron. "And all I had to do was shift rocks out of the way. You had to fight a bloody basilisk. Mind you," he added, "I had to deal with Lockhart." Another smile graced Harry's face. They seemed rarer these days.

"Do you think Ginny hates me?" Harry asked.

"Nah," said Ron. "She'll be right. She just likes to be included in this stuff."

"Do you think I did the right thing?" asked Harry, his eyes full of uncertainty.

"I do," said Ron. "I don't want her to go either. But that's never stopped her from doing what she wants."

Harry smiled faintly and turned back to the fire. Ron had the distinct impression that there was something bothering Harry which he hadn't yet spoken of. He turned back to the fire as well and changed the subject. "So what do you think of this Malfoy business?"

Harry shrugged. "Hermione seems to trust him; and I think they've been talking again. Apparently Malfoy was the one who told her where to look for the sword."

"You really think he's having the same dreams as you?" asked Ron.

"I know he is," replied Harry. "I could feel him in them - like a ghost or something."

Ron shuddered. "That's creepy."

"Yeah," said Harry, though Ron had the feeling the other boy was no longer listening to him. "I might try to get some more sleep," Harry said, getting to his feet. "Wake me up if Hermione finds anything."

"Will do," said Ron, watching Harry disappear up the boys' staircase before turning back to the fire.

* * *

"So when did you become an Agony Aunt?" Draco inquired, after he had returned from the owlery and taken a seat beside Hermione. He was looking down at the page he was translating, but there was a smile on his face nevertheless.

"Hmm?" Hermione replied. "Oh...Ginny." A smile crept over her face. "Why? Do you need some advice too?"

"Yeah," said Draco. "You can tell me the fastest way to make Weasley cry."

Hermione narrowed her eyes reproachfully, but the effect was nullified by the smile on her face. "I thought you were going to kill each other," she remarked.

"So did I," said Draco, glancing across at the parchment on which he was taking notes.

"You really should try to get along with each other you know," Hermione suggested.

"Oh, don't start this again," said Draco.

Hermione sighed in defeat and continued with her work. After another five minutes, both she and Draco had finished with their separate halves of text and they had the contents page of the book fully translated. "Okay...well," Hermione said thoughtfully, "we know it isn't in the section about the sword at the end, but according to this, those are mainly appendices, so there could be more about the sword in the main body of the book, which...is four-hundred-and-sixty-eight pages long."

"Right," said Draco. "Well, I'll start on the first page, and you tackle the other four-hundred-and-sixty-seven." He looked up with a grin.

"Or," said Hermione, "I could pick up this book and knock you over the head with it."

Draco shrugged. "Either way."

Hermione's face split into a huge grin, which she couldn't help. "Look," she said, straightening her face, "the book's probably in chronological order, and we know when the sword appeared relative to some other events, so it shouldn't be too hard to locate the right page. Right?"

"If you say so," Draco replied, flipping right to the middle of the book.

* * *

Ginny was walking around the second floor, alone and unhappy, when she heard someone calling her name. She backtracked several steps and saw Professor Lupin sitting inside his office. "Hi," she said, mustering a smile.

"You look upset," said Lupin, shutting his briefcase and eyeing Ginny with fatherly concern.

"Oh...I'm okay," Ginny lied.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" asked Lupin, indicating the chair in front of his desk.

"Sure," said Ginny. She walked across the room and sat down, her hands clasped prudently in her lap. It was warmer inside Lupin's office than it was in the halls, and possibly even inside the Gryffindor common room. Ginny supposed it made a difference having an adult wizard on hand to stoke the fire, rather than waiting for a house elf to come and do it. She felt rather comfortable inside the office, and even more so once she had a hot cup of tea in her hands. "Thanks," she said when Lupin handed it to her.

"So," said Lupin, leaning back against his desk and sipping his own tea, "what's got you looking so unhappy?"

Ginny wrapped her hands around her cup, drawing in its warmth, and looked down at the floor. "It's nothing," she said.

"You know," said Lupin, "I used to tell James and Sirius that whenever they asked me what was wrong. And it turned out I was a werewolf." He flashed Ginny a bright smile, which she felt herself return. "Does it have something to do with Harry and the others?" Lupin asked.

Ginny let her shoulders slump. "They treat me like a kid," she said candidly. "Well, Ron and Harry do."

"Ah," said Lupin, walking around his desk and sitting in his chair. "I suppose that's the problem with being a year younger than most of your friends. But believe me Ginny, when you get to my age, you'll wish people still treated you like a kid." He beamed another bright smile. Ginny sipped her tea.

She felt rather guilty sitting here and talking to a teacher when she was involved in something as perilous as breaking into the Chamber of Secrets. She felt as though she should be telling Lupin, but she knew she wouldn't, and if Harry was involved in it then there was no need to ask for any more help. So she sipped her tea again and asked how Sirius was.

"Good, I think," Lupin replied. "He keeps complaining that Hagrid's couch is lumpy, and he's had some problems with Fang, who - uh - has quite a nose for other dogs apparently, but all in all...."

Ginny giggled and almost spilled tea down her front. She managed not to though. I never do when Harry's not around, she thought glumly.

She spent the next ten minutes discussing all things Christmas with Lupin; what gifts she had bought, what she was going to do on Christmas Day, whether she was looking forward to the feast. It was a pleasant and simple discussion, and one which allowed Ginny to take her mind off other matters which were neither as pleasant nor as simple. By the time she stood up to leave, she felt much better and was reluctant to leave the warm interior of the Defence Against the Dark Arts office. She was tired though, so she said goodbye to Lupin and returned to her dormitory, praying that she didn't run into Harry on the way.

* * *

"Anything?" Hermione inquired.

Draco blew a noisy breath between his lips. "Massive battle...blah blah blah...overwhelming odds...blah blah blah...thousands dead."

"You make it sound so poetic," Hermione quipped. "Which battle was that?"

"Umm... Kintore, in... 1907."

Hermione flipped forward a page and checked her notes. "Okay, I think it's after that."

"And before...?" Draco asked.

"Slytherin's death."

"Oh, well that's helpful."

"Almost as helpful as you," Hermione said absently. "Now come on, translate this bit."

Draco heaved a rather ostentatious sigh and turned back to the book.

* * *

It was dark by the time Hermione returned to the common room. Ron turned away from the fire and watched her step through the portrait hole. She came over and sat down beside him.

"Any luck?" he asked, watching the firelight flicker across her face. Her skin was pale, as everyone else's was during the winter.

"Not yet," said Hermione, "but we narrowed it down quite a bit. We'll probably find it tomorrow."

Ron nodded absently and stared into the depths of the fire. "You really trust him?" he asked without preamble.

"Draco?" Hermione queried. "Of course I do. He gave up his life for me last year, Ron."

"And what if it was an act?" Ron asked, turning to look at her. "What if his father and Voldemort planned it that way, so it would look like Malfoy had changed. And now - now he knows everything we're doing. He could be passing all this information on to Voldemort."

"He isn't," Hermione said sternly. "I know he isn't. I can't tell you how I know, but I know. I'm sure of it."

"Well, that makes one of us."

"This isn't just about you not trusting Draco, you know," Hermione said sharply. "You don't trust me, that's the problem."

"Of course I trust you!" exclaimed Ron. "Don't be stupid."

"You don't trust my decisions," said Hermione, on her feet now. "Do you think I'd be stupid enough to make the same mistake I did last year?"

"Well, you made it then, so what makes you so sure you won't make it again?" Ron realised, with a pang, that there were tears in Hermione's eyes now. They weren't very noticeable yet, but they were there, sparkling by the light of the fire.

"Why can't you be more understanding?" she cried, the first tear falling from her eye and splashing on the rug. Ron was quite taken aback, staring up at her with his mouth hanging open. "You never approve of anything I do!" Hermione half-shouted. "You make fun of me every time I try to do my work and tell people what a nerd I am. You get upset whenever I tell you not to do something, even though I'm just trying to look out for you. And what about SPEW," she yelled, spitting the word the way Ron used to, "you never gave me any support for that. I mean, who cares if you're not interested in house elf rights? You should have supported me anyway because I'm your friend!" She finished speaking and wiped her hand across her eyes, smudging the tears that were welling in them.

"Hermione--" Ron began remorsefully, but before he could say any more she turned around, ran towards the right-hand spiral staircase and disappeared up the stairs, the sound of her sobbing following her up. Ron heard a door slam and then the only sound he could hear was the fire crackling softly in front of him. He let his head hit the back of his armchair and stared up at the ceiling. "Bugger."

* * *

Hermione knew straight away what she was upset about when she woke up the next morning. Ron, she thought miserably, banishing his face from her mind. She dressed automatically, went down to the common room and out through the portrait hole with her book bag in hand. The library had only opened a few minutes ago, so she would be able to sit down and make a fresh start on the translation without having to worry about speaking to anyone. Or so she had thought.

"Draco," she said in surprise, when she found him at their usual table. "What are you doing here?"

Draco leaned casually back in his chair and looked up at her with a slight smile. "I thought I'd make an early start on the translation," he said, "but then I remembered you had the book with you."

"Oh," said Hermione, smiling back at him. She sat down beside Draco, took out The Tragic History of the Hogwarts Founders and set it on the table between them. After that she opened her bag, extracted her quill and parchment and tried to concentrate on translating. Draco, though, was staring at her.

"You okay?" he asked, with what sounded like genuine concern.

"Fine," Hermione replied hastily. "Can we just... start on this?"

Draco nodded. "Sure." He looked, however, thoroughly unconvinced that she was fine.

They worked in opposite directions, Hermione starting well after the place there was likely to be any mention of Slytherin's sword, and Draco well before. They translated only a few lines or so until they got their bearings, and then moved on when they had ruled out their passages.

"Battle of Harlow?"

"Too early."

"Rowena's imprisonment?"

"Too late."

"Letter from Helga?"

"Too early. No, wait. It should be around there somewhere." Hermione looked across at Draco's page and scanned it briefly. There was nothing of interest on it, but on the next page...

"Yes! Look - gladius Slytherini - that's the sword!"

"So it is," said Draco, and began translating. Hermione, likewise, turned her attention to that page, though with far more fervour than Draco.

"This is it!" she cried jubilantly.

"Settle down, settle down," said Draco, sounding exactly like Professor Snape, albeit slightly more amused.

They worked quickly and quietly, apart from the occasional cries of glee Hermione was prone to utter, and after another ten minutes they had found exactly what they were looking for. "Got it!" Hermione said loudly, beaming with pride.

"I wasn't aware it was a competition," said Draco in a flat tone, though he, too, was smiling.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him and continued translating, and Draco, seeing no further need for his help, put down his quill and followed her progress.

"With - the - hilt - and - the - blade - hidden," Hermione read aloud as she translated, "the - three - faithful - Founders - turned - their - attention - to - the - stone - which - it was said - could be destroyed - by -" she broke off and looked up at Draco, "- Living Fire."

"What?" asked Draco.

"Living Fire," Hermione repeated. "You've never heard of it?"

Draco shook his head. "Have you?"

"No." Hermione bit her lip. "I wonder where there'd be information about that."

She looked at Draco, and Draco looked at her, and then slowly, both of their gazes slid towards the restricted section. "In there, I'm guessing," said Draco.

Hermione bit her lip harder and looked around. Madam Pince was no where in sight. "Well," she said, craning her neck to see around the stacks, "I guess we could have a quick look around before Madam Pince gets back. The only problem is I don't know what book it would--"

"Hey, Granger," said Draco. Hermione turned around and saw that the chair beside her was now empty. She looked up and found Draco standing inside the restricted section, perusing the books at his leisure.

"Malfoy!" she hissed, darting over to him. "Madam Pince could've been in here!"

Draco looked up with an uninterested expression. "She's not," he said, "I checked. So which book do you think it'll be in?"

Hermione stared at him incredulously. How could he just walk over here with no heed to the consequences? It was irresponsible; it was dangerous; it was... so rebellious. Hermione shook her head sharply. It's Malfoy, for God's sake.

"So?" Draco asked again, replacing the book he'd been searching. "Any ideas?"

Hermione turned away from him and scanned the shelves, at a complete loss. "I- I have no idea."

"Well, you'd better hurry up," said Draco, "because Madam Pince just came back."

Hermione whirled around, her heart plummeting down to her feet. But the library was still empty, and the doors still firmly shut. She rounded on Draco again, who was shaking with silent laughter. "That is not funny."

"Beg to differ," said Draco, grinning broadly.

Hermione grumbled in frustration and nudged him aside. There were several hundred books in the restricted section, and as Hermione wasn't sure whether Living Fire was classified as a spell or a creature, she wasn't sure where to start. "Just... start looking," she said sharply to Draco, who was attempting to muffle his laughter and doing a very poor job of it.

Hermione pulled several books down at random and scanned the indexes. She didn't even bother with the non-English tomes. In the end though, it was Draco who found what they needed. "Flamma vitae," he said triumphantly. "Fire of Life."

"You found it?" Hermione asked excitedly, taking the book Draco was offering her, which was called Rare Magical Entities. Apparently, she realised as she perused the open page, it was a more a potion than anything else. There was an ingredients list in the book and instructions on how to make it. "This doesn't look too difficult," she said thoughtfully, still reading. "But the ingredients are pretty rare - we'd have to raid Snape's office."

"Not a problem," said Draco, reading over her shoulder. His proximity was unnerving, but Hermione was too engrossed in what she was reading to do anything about it.

"And at least it can be made on the spot, not like the Polyjuice Potion, which took three weeks to make."

"What Polyjuice Potion?" Draco asked, lifting his gaze from the book to Hermione's guilty face.

"Er...never mind." Draco looked confused, and rather curious, but he didn't pursue the matter, which Hermione was extremely grateful for. "I have to tell the others," she said, hopping over the rope of the restricted section and returning to their table. She stuffed Rare Magical Entities into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "We'll meet back here in ten minutes, okay?" As soon as she'd said it, Hermione began to think that maybe Draco didn't appreciate taking orders from her like this. So she quickly added, "If you're free then," to make him feel as though she was the one waiting on him.

"Ten minutes is fine," said Draco, taking his jacket off the back of his chair and shrugging it on. He wore a lot more Muggle clothes these days, Hermione realised, which may have been due to the fact that his father was no longer around to tell him how to dress, and to scold him for touching anything remotely connected to the non-magical world. He did look better for it, although he still wore a lot of black. Then again, it does suit him, Hermione thought to herself, and then quickly shook her head clear of all thoughts of Draco Malfoy's wardrobe.

"I might go and check if my mother sent a reply," Draco said, leading the way to the door. Surprisingly, he held it open for her. Hermione smiled broadly as she slipped through - "Thanks" - and headed for Gryffindor Tower.

It was awkward telling everyone about the news; she didn't really want to talk to Ron, and apparently Ginny didn't want to speak to Harry right now, so in the end Hermione told Ginny, who told Ron, who told Harry, who led the way back to the library and sat down in a stony silence. "We should wait for Draco," Hermione said tensely, avoiding Ron's gaze.

So they sat and waited, everyone looking in their own direction as a heavy silence settled over the whole group. It was another five minutes before Draco returned. He walked through the doors with a grave look on his face, his grey eyes much darker than usual. There was also a screwed up piece of parchment in his hand.

"Did you get a reply?" Hermione asked as everyone turned to face Draco, who nodded. "So did you bring the book?" Draco shook his head. "But--"

"It's gone," said Draco, his fist clenched tightly around the screwed up parchment. "My mother said it wasn't there. She said there was 'a very noticeable gap in your father's bookcases'." His tone was cold, his eyes more so.

"It's...gone?" Hermione said weakly. "Gone where?"

"I'll give you two guesses," Draco said pessimistically as he took a seat, "and the first one doesn't count."

"Your father," Harry said simply.

"Bingo," said Draco. All five of them stared down at the table, the silence between them even more profound.

"This doesn't change anything," Hermione said at length, drawing the attention of the others. "It just makes it even more important that we get the stone."

Harry nodded. "You're right. So tell us what you found out."

Hermione took a deep breath and explained what she and Draco had discovered - about the Living Fire that could purportedly destroy the stone, about the book they'd found that described how to make it, and finally about the fact that they'd have to break into Snape's office in order to obtain some of the ingredients.

"Well, we've done that before," Harry said when she'd finished.

"You've done what?" Draco exclaimed, his eyes wide.

"Never mind," Hermione placated him. "That's not important. What we have to figure out is who's going to do it."

Harry, Ron and Ginny turned to look at Draco, and, eventually, Hermione did too. "Me?" Draco said incredulously. "Why should I do it?"

"Because..." Hermione said, though she was reluctant to finish her sentence. Ron, however, didn't seem to have the same problem, even if he didn't use the same words Hermione would have chosen. "Snape loves you," he said with a shrug.

"Snape doesn't love him," Hermione cut in, mindful of Draco's explosive look. "He's just... a bit more tolerant of Draco."

"He doesn't want to kill him," Harry offered supportively.

"Or maim him," said Ron.

"Poison him and feed his body to the giant squid..."

"Use his face as a dartboard..."

"Hold him over a burning cauldron and--"

"OKAY!" Hermione said loudly, as both Harry and Ron began chuckling. Draco looked furious. Despite the fact that his face was as pale as ever, Hermione was sure she'd be able to boil a teapot on it. Ginny had stuffed her knuckles into her mouth to muffle her giggles. "It's up to Draco if he wants to do it," Hermione said over the sound of Harry and Ron's laughter.

"Get Weasley to do it," Draco said, jerking his head towards Ron, who had stopped laughing. "He's not doing anything."

"He's going to help me brew the Fire," Hermione said stiffly, without looking at Ron.

"I am?"

"Yes."

"So you said this stuff can be whipped up on the spot," said Draco. "Get him to get the ingredients while we're in the Chamber. I'm guessing it'll take a while for us to find this stone thing."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something further, then decided against it and turned to Ron. "Can you?" she asked.

Ron nodded, looking at her fixedly. Hermione turned away quickly and took a deep breath. "Okay, well... I thought the best place to make the Fire would be in Myrtle's bathroom."

Harry nodded.

"Myrtle's bathroom?" Draco exclaimed. "Why the hell would we want to brew it in there?"

"Because that's where the entrance to the Chamber is," said Harry. "In one of the sinks."

Draco gawked at him in disbelief. "I hardly think one of my ancestors would put the entrance to his secret chamber in a washbasin!"

"Well, that's where it is," said Harry.

Draco goggled at him, looking disgusted. "And we have to go inside this thing? Inside a sink?"

"Yes."

Draco paused thoughtfully, then turned back to Hermione and asked, "Do I have to go?"

Hermione's face split into a grin. "Yes." She was aware of Ron's disapproving gaze on her, but she chose to ignore it. "So, the next question is, when are we going to do this? I say we wait until tomorrow morning, because I need a chance to read this through properly and I'm sure we're all tired now anyway."

Harry nodded. "All right. First thing in the morning - we'll meet in Myrtle's bathroom."

"Okay." Hermione got to her feet along with the rest of the group and packed both The Tragic History of the Hogwarts Founders and Rare Magical Entities into her bag. She hoped Madam Pince wouldn't mind if she borrowed them for a little longer, not that the librarian had any say in the matter. She looked up when she heard Harry's voice, just as she was fastening the clasps on her bag.

"Ginny," he said. "Can you wait here for a bit?"

Hermione looked across at the other girl, who looked as though she had just been told she would have to spend Christmas in the Chamber of Secrets. She looked at Hermione with pleading eyes, but all Hermione could do was smile reassuringly. "I'll see you later," she said to Harry and Ginny, and followed the other two out of the library.

* * *

Harry waited until Hermione had disappeared from view, then turned back to Ginny. "I - um - I just wanted to talk to you," he said.

"A- about what?" Ginny stammered.

Harry sighed and sat down. Ginny took a seat quickly, as though she feared to be standing up when he wasn't. Harry looked over at her, trying to think of what he wanted to say before he said it, but he couldn't, so he said it as it came. "Are you sure you want to come with us?" he asked.

Ginny nodded. She looked so young to Harry, her hands clasped together in her lap and her red hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. Her bright blue eyes were open and expressive, but there was a great deal of unhappiness in them. Harry would have expected them to be hopeful and optimistic, but they weren't; they were tainted by a fear that usually wouldn't reside in eyes like that - tainted by Tom. Harry dug his nails into his palm and choked down his anger. "You know you don't have to prove anything to us," he said kindly. "We won't think any less of you if you don't come. I won't think any less of you."

"I know," said Ginny, "but I would."

The maturity of her response took Harry by surprise; he didn't think he would have seen something like that at Ginny's age. If she was doing it for herself, then maybe it was right that she came after all. Still, how could he communicate to her the anxiety he felt, that she might relive every horrible memory she had experienced all those years ago? How could he make her understand that that moment, four years ago, when he had been hiding in the staffroom with Ron and heard McGonagall speak those words, had been the worst of his life? He remembered it so clearly; the way his heart began to beat so loudly that all other sound was muted; the way his blood ran cold and his entire body felt numb; and the despair - the feeling of utter hopelessness, that there was absolutely nothing he could do. He'd gone back to the common room after that, and he remembered the voice in his head telling him to "DO SOMETHING!" But what? What was he supposed to do? He had no idea where the Chamber was, or who to go to for help. He'd never felt so useless in his life, right at the one moment when he'd needed all the answers. He'd sat there, and he'd blamed himself, because he'd done nothing. Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever. The words still haunted him.

Harry took a deep breath and refocused his eyes. Ginny was looking at him curiously, and with unmistakable concern. "I know I can't stop you," he said, keeping his tone even, "and I know you want to go. But promise me, Ginny - please promise me - if you have any doubts, if you think for a second that it'll only make things worse - don't go."

Ginny's eyes roamed his face for several seconds after he'd finished speaking. At last, she nodded. "I promise."

Harry smiled, and was relieved to see Ginny smile back. She had a nice smile. It was like sunshine creeping into a darkened world. "I think I might get some sleep," he said, standing up and replacing his chair. "Tell Ron to wake me for dinner if you see him." Ginny nodded and followed him out of the library, where the halls seemed slightly warmer.

* * *

Draco spent a restless night in his room. He slept for short periods and woke up covered in sweat every time, his head throbbing with faded images and even more faded voices. He found no escape from them, so after he had finally given up on sleep for the night, he threw on a pair of trousers and a shirt and left his room.

The common room was dark and damp, but he didn't stay there. Nor did he stay in the dungeons, which were even darker and damper. He went out into the Entrance Hall instead and climbed the marble staircase, then started walking aimlessly around the first floor. He had no destination in mind, but the movement and the feel of cold stone on his bare feet was calming, so he kept walking.

His father had ingrained in him a certain control over his mind and body, and dulled the responses they were prone to make when startled by something. Nevertheless, when Draco saw a shadowy figure walking towards him in the middle of one of the hallways, he jumped slightly. He stopped where he was and squinted into the darkness. The figure was tall, but not too tall, and thin, but not too thin. It was walking slowly, and as it drew nearer, Draco could see that its hands were clasped behind its back, its feet were dressed in slippers, and it had a long silvery beard that hung down to its waist.

"Professor Dumbledore," Draco said edgily. The wizened face of the headmaster emerged from the darkness, a twinkle in his blue eyes and a smile on his lips.

"Mr Malfoy," said Dumbledore, peering down his crooked nose at Draco. "Out for a late night stroll?" There were no censuring tones in his voice, which surprised Draco.

"Uh - yeah," he replied. "I couldn't sleep."

"Very few people can these days," said Dumbledore. Draco frowned at the comment. His father's influence over him might have been broken, but he still wasn't convinced that the headmaster was in possession of all his senses. "Like you?" he asked.

Dumbledore's smile widened, pushing out the corners of his beard. "Like me."

Draco looked down at the floor for a moment, then back up again. "So... are you going to give me detention?"

Dumbledore chuckled merrily. "No, Mr Malfoy - I am not going to give you detention. However," he added conspiratorially, leaning in closer, "I would appreciatee it if you refrain from mentioning this to the other teachers."

"Consider it done," said Draco. He paused for a while to stare past Dumbledore, where the darkness seemed to be hanging in the air.

"I see you like the cold," Dumbledore observed. Draco followed the headmaster's gaze down to his own bare feet, then looked across at Dumbledore's slippers, which were blinking at him and yawning tiredly. "Your father was the same."

Draco lowered his gaze again and clenched his teeth together. He didn't appreciate the insinuations Dumbledore was levelling at him. Draco knew better than anyone what kind of person his father was, and he also knew, again, better than anyone, that he had to struggle against that person every day of his life. "You are rather more fortunate from a fashion viewpoint, however," Dumbledore added at length. Draco almost smiled - almost, but not quite.

He became aware that Dumbledore was looking at him, with the same penetrating gaze that Harry would have recognised had he been present. It unnerved Draco in the same way, because it felt as though the headmaster was looking right through him. Draco was unaware, however, that he himself sometimes had this same effect on people when he looked at them. If he'd known how similar he was to Dumbledore, he might have been horrified.

"You do know, of course," said Dumbledore, "that if there is anything on your mind that you wish to talk about, I am always hear to listen."

Draco looked steadily at the headmaster, determined to hold his gaze. He failed though, and looked down at Dumbledore's slippers instead, which were now both snoring softly. He nodded, sure that he'd never need to speak to Dumbledore about anything.

"Very well," said Dumbledore, straightening up. "I think I shall give sleep another try. Good night, Draco." And with that, he walked past Draco and disappeared around the corner, swallowed up by the shadows. Now alone, Draco raised his head and stared down the hallway in front of him, where Dumbledore had come from. The darkness was still hanging there, like an enormous flock of bats suspended from the ceiling. With no intention of going back to sleep, Draco started down the empty corridor, the darkness wrapping around him the way sleep never did.

* * *

For the first few moments when she woke up, sweating and shivering beneath her covers, Ginny was sure she no longer wanted to go into the Chamber. I can't, she thought hopelessly. I can't do it. Tom will be in there, waiting for me again. But eventually the feeling ebbed away and her reassurance came seeping back until she was as determined as ever. It was the night, she realised, that made her afraid. It would be better during the day, when the sun was up - no matter how feeble its rays were - and Harry was with her again. Nothing could hurt her when she was with Harry.

The dream she'd had had been as bad as the rest, though it was the worst of its kind. Tom was almost always in them, laughing at her or hurting her, but sometimes it was Harry that did those things, because Ginny had always seen Tom as a more attainable Harry. He had been everything Harry hadn't - understanding, attentive, conscious of her feelings, of her existence. And cruel - he was cruel as well, and Harry wasn't.

I'm so stupid, Ginny thought miserably as she hugged her pillow. I tried to turn someone else into Harry. But why would I even want that? Why would I want anyone but the real Harry? She turned over in bed, wiped the tears from her eyes, and tried to fall asleep again.

* * *

Ron was lying on his back and glaring at the ceiling; no matter what he did he just could not get back to sleep. At first he had thought it was nerves - that he was worrying about what he had to do the next day. But the truth was that he didn't really have to do anything. Breaking into Snape's office might be a difficult and foreboding task for an ordinary student, but armed with the Marauder's Map and Harry's Invisibility Cloak, Ron didn't see how anything could go wrong. So he abandoned that line of thought and turned to another, which, he soon realised, was the source of his insomnia. Hermione.

Their last conversation - or argument, more accurately - was weighing heavily on Ron's conscience. At the time he'd thought she was being ludicrous; how could she possibly think that he thought so little of her? But then, after careful consideration, he found that some of what she had said was true. He hadn't supported her when she'd come up with the idea of S.P.E.W, and sometimes he did snap at her when all she was trying to do was be reasonable. It made him feel terrible, but more than that, he feared that continuing along that path might only push her further towards Malfoy and his faux friendship. And Ron, as her friend, couldn't let that happen. So he resolved to apologise to Hermione as soon as he saw her the next day, and finally fell back to sleep.

* * *

Hermione readjusted her wand on her bedside table, so that its light fell over the book propped open on her knees, and continued reading. The recipe to create Living Fire wasn't very complicated, considering how potent the end result was, but some of the ingredients would definitely be hard to come by. Snape would likely have them, though not in large quantities, and Hermione feared that he might easily be able to tell what was missing. Still, there was really no alternative, so she banished her qualms and continued reading.

* * *

Harry woke up gasping for air and feeling as though his head was being split in two. He clutched it in his hands and gritted his teeth, waiting for the pain to pass. It took a while, but eventually it faded, just as it always did. Harry sometimes worried, though, that it might not fade one day - that he'd wake up one morning with his scar burning and it would never stop. What would he do then?

He kicked off his blankets and swung his legs sideways, planting his bare feet on the stone floor. It was freezing cold, but Harry found it pleasant after the burning heat in his head. He wasn't sure what had triggered the pain in his scar on Voldemort's end, but he could guess, and he was quite sure that the Dark Lord had just received the book Lucius had somehow taken from his study. It would only be a matter of time then, before Voldemort discovered where the stone was, and shortly after that he would begin making preparations to seize it. Harry knew that that would take some time, but he became anxious all the same, and was eager to get tomorrow's business over with.

He knew he wouldn't be sleeping again tonight - not that it mattered, as the first golden rays of sunlight were now climbing the sky - so he put on his glasses, changed out of his pyjamas and left for the common room.

* * *

When Draco arrived in Myrtle's bathroom the following morning, he found Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny already assembled around a large cauldron that was crackling loudly and flickering with orange light. All four of them looked up when he arrived, then down at the cauldron again. Draco strode over to it and peered inside with interest. "That's the Living Fire?" he asked, far from impressed. It looked just like ordinary fire.

"No," Hermione replied, "this is normal fire. We need the ashes for the Living Fire, so we have to let this burn first."

"Right," said Draco, taking a step back and looking around the bathroom. It looked as though it had once been rather white - the tiles on the floor, the walls, the toilets themselves - but now it was all covered with a layer of grime and could hardly be called sanitary. There were spiders lurking in the corners, suspended from their webs, bits of toilet paper - now dried - stuck to the walls, and behind the four Gryffindors...

"Who's that?"

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all turned around. "That's Myrtle," said Hermione. "Hi, Myrtle." Her voice was cautious and overly gentle, as though she expected the ghost to burst into tears at any moment.

"Hello," Myrtle replied gloomily, hovering several inches above the floor. "I thought you'd forgotten about me."

"Oh...no," Hermione replied falteringly. "We've just - uh - been really busy. You know...sixth year and all." She laughed nervously.

"Oh, well I..." Myrtle began, but trailed off as her eyes fell on Draco. Whilst Draco had certainly heard of Myrtle before, he had never actually met her in person, which wasn't surprising, as it would take no less than a life-threatening situation for him to set foot in this fetid place. He saw now that she was even uglier than he'd imagined. She wore a pair of horn-rimmed glasses over her enormous eyes, her face was covered in a mass of hideous pimples, and her hair was so lank and brittle that it didn't look like hair at all, but rather an old rag that she'd place on top of her head. Draco barely restrained himself from cringing. "Who's that?" asked Myrtle, her voice slightly wistful.

"That's Draco, Myrtle," said Hermione. "He's in Slytherin."

"A Slytherin," said Myrtle, as though she had never seen one before. "Wot's he doing here?"

"He's - uh - helping us with our potion," said Hermione.

Myrtle's face split into a grin, revealing a mouth full of ghostly braces. "He's a cute one."

Draco stared at her in horror; Hermione rolled her eyes and the other three all looked as though they were going to throw up. Myrtle zoomed over to Draco and hovered disconcertingly close to him. "Do you like my bathroom?" she asked cheerfully.

"Er..." said Draco, looking to Hermione for help. Hermione, however, was now grinning with amusement.

"I've been here for more than sixty years," Myrtle said proudly. "Ever since that drab Olive Hornby made me cry and I hid in that stall over there. It was a great big snake that killed me - all it did was look me in the eye and I keeled right over. But I didn't mind because that meant I got to give Olive her comeuppance, and that's exactly what I did. I haunted her good - oh, she'll never forget me now." She finished with a high-pitched giggle.

"Really?" said Draco, in a falsely fascinated voice. "Sixty years? And you don't look a day over fifteen." He shot Hermione an angry glare, for both she and Ginny had clapped their hands over their mouths to muffle their laughter. "So - uh - Potter," said Draco, leaning around Myrtle to see Harry, "shouldn't we be getting on with our... treasure hunt?"

"Right," said Harry in a business-like tone. He got to his feet and dusted off his trousers, then walked over to the sinks with Ginny in tow.

"So - uh - I have to... go over there now," said Draco, leaning away from Myrtle.

"Over there?" said Myrtle, spinning around to see where Draco was pointing, then quickly spinning back again. "You're not going down the sink are you?"

"We are," said Harry. "Like we did last time, Myrtle."

"But it's dangerous down there," said Myrtle. "You might be killed!" She paused in thought for a moment. "I think you should let Draco go first." Harry chuckled as Draco gave Myrtle an appalled look. "You can share my bathroom with me if you like," she said happily. "If you die."

"Right," said Draco, inching around Myrtle towards the sinks. "I'll keep that in mind."

"So you'll have everything ready by the time we get back?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione.

"We should, yes," said Hermione, consulting Rare Magical Entities once more. The fire in the cauldron was slowly dying out now. "Once we get the ingredients from Snape's office it shouldn't take long."

Draco thought he detected a slight stiffness in Hermione's voice, and now that he looked at her, he noticed the tension hanging between her and Ron. He had no idea what that was about, but he didn't much care either. "So how do we get this sink open?" he asked Harry.

"I ask it to open," Harry replied.

"You ask it to open?" said Draco, his eyebrows raised. Then he snorted. "I knew the Daily Prophet was right about you. Absolutely barking."

"In Parseltongue!" Harry said sharply.

"Oh," said Draco. "I forgot about that. So is this the one?" he asked, looking at the sink beside him. "With the snake carved into the tap?"

"Yes," Harry said shortly, and with some resentment.

"Not so secret, is it?" said Draco, with a smile.

"Well, only a Parseltongue knows how to open it, so it doesn't really matter if--"

"Open," said Draco, and the sink receded, revealing a long, darkened tunnel beneath it.

He looked up with a smirk on his face, and found everyone in the room gaping at him.

"H- how did you do that?" Harry asked in astonishment.

"How do you think I did it?" said Draco.

"You speak Parseltongue?" Hermione exclaimed, the long wooden spoon she had been using to adjust the fire hanging limp in her hand.

"Well, obviously," said Draco, rather enjoying everyone's reaction to the fact.

"But..."said Harry, his face still slack, "how?"

"Slytherin," Hermione said vaguely. "You're related to Slytherin so you can speak it."

Draco shrugged. "Guess so."

"But, that's...how long have you known?" asked Harry.

Draco shrugged again. "Since I was little."

"Since you were little?" Harry exclaimed, his astonishment giving way to rage. "So in second year, when the basilisk was petrifying people and everyone suspected me, there was really another Parselmouth in the school!"

"Yup," said Draco. "I suppose it would have helped your cause if people had known that, but I guess it just slipped my mind." He flashed Harry a grin. Harry's fists clenched tightly by his sides, and although Ginny raised a hand to pat him on the shoulder, she quickly lowered it. "Look, are we going to get this stone or not?" Draco asked impatiently. "Myrtle here might not be getting any older, but we are. So what are we waiting for?"

Harry narrowed his eyes one final time and calmed himself with a sigh. He turned towards Ginny. "Are you sure you want to come? It's not too late to change your mind."

"Oh, give the girl a rest, Potter," said Draco impatiently. "I don't see a nappy on her."

"Hey!" Ginny exclaimed indignantly. Draco laughed at her furious scowl. She only ended up looking cuter when she tried to appear threatening.

"Let's go," Harry said brusquely, pushing past Draco and hoisting himself up onto the sink. He let his legs dangle in the open tunnel.

"So what do we do?" asked Draco. "Slide down this?"

"Yep," Harry replied simply.

"And where does the tunnel come out?"

"In a cave. Except there's a small drop at the end."

"I'll throw the rope down in a few minutes," said Hermione.

"Rope?" said Draco, turning to her with an incredulous look. "We're climbing out?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "But I've charmed the rope so that it won't burn and I've put a Mobilifunis spell on it, so you won't have to do much climbing."

"How much is not much?" Draco inquired.

"Enough to keep you fit and healthy," said Hermione. "Now get going."

Draco turned back to Harry, who was bracing himself on the edges of the sink. "I'll go first," Harry said, "Ginny can come second and you come last."

Draco nodded. Harry turned once more to Ginny and gave her an encouraging smile. Ginny smiled back, but Draco thought the young Weasley looked more than a bit frightened at the moment, although she was doing a good job hiding it from Harry. In fact, Draco was sure he was the only one picking up on it. Reading other people's emotions was one of the first things his father had taught him, and although he still resented much of Lucius teachings, some of them did occasionally prove useful.

"I'll see you at the bottom," Harry said to Ginny.

"Good luck," said Hermione.

"Good luck," Myrtle called out cheerily from across the bathroom. "I hope you die."

Harry turned away from Ginny and looked down into the tunnel, then pushed himself off the edge and disappeared from sight. Ginny turned around to face Draco and attempted a stoic smile. Draco saw right through it, however. He stepped forward and took Ginny's hand to help her up onto the sink. Her skin was softer than he'd imagined it would be, and the contact made the back of his neck prickle.

"Just imagine you're a carrot going through a giant intestine," Draco said comfortingly, once Ginny was sitting on the edge of the sink.

"Why a carrot?" Ginny asked in a wounded tone. "Because of the hair?"

"No," said Draco, with a grin. "Because of the shape."

Ginny pouted. "Just don't crush me when you come down," she said. And then, after one last look at Draco - who attempted his first ever reassuring smile - dropped into the tunnel and out of sight.

Draco turned around and noticed Hermione looking at him with a curious expression. His stomach lurched sickeningly, in the exact same way it did whenever Filch caught him out of bed at night. It was only for a moment though, and then Hermione had turned away and was busying herself with the cauldron again. Ron was also glaring at him, but he wasn't worth Draco's attention, so Draco - trying to avoid touching anything - hopped up on the sink and sat down with his legs in the tunnel. It was pitch black inside and seemed to stretch on forever. Draco couldn't even tell what material the walls were made of. He looked over at Hermione once more, but she had her head turned away from him, so he turned back to hole, took a deep breath, and plunged inside.

* * *

At long last, the fire finally burnt itself out and left behind a large pile of black ash. Hermione stirred it around with the wooden spoon she had and began adding other ingredients, which she'd taken from the student store cupboard. She was aware - acutely aware - of the awkward tension between Ron and herself, but she was attempting to ignore it and hoped that Ron would do the same. He didn't though.

"Hermione," he said tentatively.

"What?" Hermione replied sharply, without looking up.

"Can we talk?"

She didn't answer straight away. "Sure."

Ron sighed heavily. "Listen...about what you said the other day - I just wanted you to know that...that you were right."

Now Hermione did look up. She had expected Ron to deny everything she'd said to him, or to skirt the issue, or possibly even to apologise without knowing what he'd done wrong. But she certainly hadn't expected him to tell her that she was right. "I was?" she said, pausing in the middle of emptying a handful of beetle eyes into the cauldron. She left her hand hanging where it was.

"Yeah," said Ron, turning his eyes down. "I was thinking about it and...and I don't think I've been very supportive of some of the things you've done in the past. I mean, I don't think you were right about me telling people you're a nerd, because I've never said that to anyone - but the stuff about S - P - E - W," he said, spelling it out and making Hermione smile in the process, "maybe I should have tried to be more supportive." He looked up at last and met Hermione's eyes. "I'm sorry."

Hermione smiled and lowered her hand. "I didn't mean to snap at you like that," she said. "I was just angry." She looked down and sighed with relief. "I feel like ever since I started spending time with Draco, all people do is question my judgement. And that hurts." She ignored the way Ron winced at the mention of the other boy's name.

"I'm not questioning your judgement," said Ron, "I'm just trying to look out for you. I don't want to see you get hurt."

Hermione smiled gratefully and squeezed Ron's hand. "I know. And I won't, because I have you and Harry to look out for me, and there's no one better."

Ron beamed at her. Hermione withdrew her hand and added the beetle eyes to the cauldron. Ron looked down at the floor again, smiling sadly, and appeared to be considering something in his mind.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, stirring the mixture. There was no liquid required, so it was dry, but it needed to be stirred nonetheless.

"Oh, nothing," said Ron. "I was just thinking of something you said to me in fourth year...at the Yule Ball."

"What did I say?" asked Hermione, extremely curious.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment a loud bang echoed in the bathroom and the mixture in the cauldron sparked brightly. Hermione looked at it guiltily. "Oops - I was supposed to stir is anti-clockwise." She prodded the ashes and other ingredients with the spoon and made a contemplative noise. "I think we'd better add the sands soon."

"Right," said Ron, getting to his feet. "I'll go and get them then."

"Be careful," said Hermione.

"I've got the Map and the Cloak," said Ron, "I don't need to be careful." He flashed Hermione a bright smile and left the bathroom. Hermione turned her smiling face back to the cauldron and let out a long breath. I wonder how the others are doing.

* * *

"A small drop?" Draco yelled indignantly. "A small drop!" He struggled to his feet and slapped angrily at his trousers, which released a large volume of dust. Then he turned his head and tried to look at his back. "Oh, bloody hell! My shirt's ruined!"

"Would you keep your voice down!" Harry admonished him.

"No, I will not keep my voice down!" snapped Draco. "Do you know how much this shirt cost?"

"No, and I don't really care," said Harry impatiently. "We're here for the stone, remember. We can deal with your wardrobe problems later."

Draco thought that was a bit rich, considering Harry had been helping Ginny dust off her back not two seconds ago. "That's easy for you to say," he barked, "neither of you just ruined a fifteen galleon shirt!"

"Neither of us cried 'weeee' on the way down either," said Harry sternly. Ginny dissolved into giggles, and as soon as she did, Harry began to smile.

"I did not!" Draco yelled indignantly.

"Let's go," said Harry. He turned around and led the way further into the cave, leaving Draco to open and close his mouth in righteous anger. Now fuming, he gritted his teeth and followed at a distance.

The cave was even worse than Myrtle's bathroom, though not by much. Once Draco had lit his wand, he saw that the ground was hard-packed rock and that it was littered all over with small animal bones that crunched under his feet as he walked. With every step he took he prayed that none of them cut into the soles of his shoes. He swept his wandlight over the walls and saw much of the same - blank rock, bones and darkness -except that they were slightly wet. He almost expected to see bats on the ceiling - and would have liked to see Ginny screaming and flailing her arms about - but it was bare apart from the occasional stalactite.

Up ahead, Harry and Ginny were sticking rather close together, and it looked as though Ginny was fighting the urge to take Harry's hand. Draco smirked to himself and continued at a leisurely pace, not particularly keen on catching up to them.

* * *

Harry looked around with a painful lump in his throat. This is it, he realised. I remember it. It looked exactly the same as it did in his memory: dank, dark and dreary. He didn't remember many of the details though, because the first time he had walked through this cave he had been too sick with worry to pay any attention to his surroundings. More clearly than anything, he remembered what he was feeling at the time - the desperate desire to get to Ginny and rescue her, and yet a complete unwillingness to go any further, because of what he might find at the end. It was painful now, more so than he had thought it would be. The image of Ginny's lifeless body kept flashing in his mind, and he glanced at her regularly to reassure himself.

Draco was trailing somewhere behind, but Harry wasn't worried about him. He might be a prima donna when it came to his clothes and his looks, but he could take care of himself, as Harry had discovered last year.

Before long, out of the darkness up ahead, Harry could see something blocking their path. But they couldn't possibly be at the Chamber yet. At first he thought they'd taken a wrong turn, but then, slowly, he realised what he was seeing. This was the spot where Lockhart had tried to curse Harry and Ron, and, after the wand he was using backfired, caused the tunnel to cave in. Fortunately, though, the hole that Ron had hollowed out all those years ago was still there, providing a convenient means of getting to the other side.

"I'll go first," said Harry. He bent down beside the hole, put one leg through and followed with the rest of his body. On the other side, where it was slightly darker, he gazed around quickly to make sure everything was still silent. "It's okay," he called to Ginny. "Come through."

Harry hung back while Ginny scrambled through the hole, but after she had gotten one leg through he put out his hand to help her. Ginny paused, one half of her body on either side of the barrier, and looked up at him. Then, as though tempting some kind of carnivorous plant with her fingers, she took his hand. A strange sensation ran down the length of Harry's spine and he felt as though he might fall over. Ginny's eyes were easily the brightest thing in the darkened cave, and they seemed to be glowing with a kind of ethereal light. A lump also seemed to have developed in Harry's throat. They were staring at each other.

"What's the hold up?" said a muffled voice from the other side of the rock wall.

Harry quickly swallowed the lump in his throat and pulled Ginny through. "Thanks," she said after straightening up.

"No problem," said Harry, his voice hitching. For a moment he and Ginny simply continued to stare at each other, and although Harry wanted desperately to look away, he found that he couldn't.

"Well, there goes the trousers," said Draco, as he came through the hole. He tried slapping the dust out of them again, but it was as futile as before. "You know, next time I decide to come along on one of your harebrained schemes," he said irritably, "do me a favour and hit me over the head with something."

"I'd be happy to," said Harry. "In fact, I'm sure there're some rocks lying around here somewhere..."

"Very funny, Potter," said Draco, glaring at Harry. "But seeing as we're not familiar with the concept of sarcasm, I'll retract my statement."

"Well, that's your prerogative," said Harry, turning around and starting along the tunnel once more. He made sure, however, to slow down enough for Ginny to catch up, because he didn't want her walking alone in here. Draco soon lagged behind again and Harry and Ginny were left alone.

After several more minutes of walking, they came to a slight turn in the tunnel, which Harry knew almost subconsciously would lead to the wall with the two intertwined serpents on it. Everything looked slightly different though - the cave wasn't as large and the walls seemed a different colour. And it didn't take nearly as long to reach the Chamber this time, which may have been due to the fact that he was moving at a brisker pace, no longer fearing what might be lurking around each bend, or to the fact that Harry's mind wasn't crowded with thoughts of a dead Ginny. Whatever the reason, they were soon standing in front of that ominous wall, their hearts beating wildly.

"So this is it?" Draco said vigorously from behind them. Both Harry and Ginny jumped and Harry shot Draco an angry look. The other boy didn't notice however; he was gazing up at the wall with an unmoved expression. "Bit dull for an evil megalomaniac, wouldn't you say?"

Harry turned back around, suppressing his irritation. He wet his dry and cracked lips with his tongue, and turned to Ginny. She, like Draco, was looking up at the wall, though with an entirely different expression. "This is it," he said, as Ginny lowered her gaze again. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Ginny swallowed and nodded, looking nervous. Harry took a deep breath, wondered whether he or Ginny was the more frightened, and looked up at the entangled snakes. Just as last time, they seemed strangely alive. "Open," he said, knowing that Ginny would hear the word spoken as a long hiss. The two serpents uncoiled themselves and a narrow gap appeared down the middle of the wall. Slowly, both halves of the wall slid smoothly apart, with the sound of two large boulders being dragged against each other. Darkness flooded out, and beside Harry, Ginny trembled, as the Chamber of Secrets yawned open before them.

* * *