“Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry!”

Harry groaned and said, “‘Ello, Colin.”

The first year Gryffindor beamed at him and cheerfully asked, “Where you are you going?”

“Quidditch practice.  Why?”

“Ooo!  Quidditch!  I’ve never seen a game played before.  Are there actually four balls?”

“Yeh,” replied Harry sullenly, hoping the younger boy would go away.

He didn’t.

“Harry!  Oh, hello, Colin.”

Colin grinned at Niamh and said, “Hey!  Coming to Quidditch practice too?”

Niamh looked at Harry who shrugged then turned back to Colin.

“Erm, Colin, you do know that this is a Slytherin Quidditch practice, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well – wouldn’t you be safer at the Gryffindor one?”

“I don’t think so…”

Niamh moaned and hung her head.  “Nevermind, Colin.”

Harry sighed and shifted his Nimbus 2001 on his shoulder.  He had his cloak on over his green and silver Quidditch robes as it was early in the morning and promised to be cold.  Also there was the fact that the dungeons were freezing.  Niamh herself was bundled up in her cloak and green and silver Slytherin scarf while Colin was only wearing his robes.  The three of them left the school, walking across the grounds towards the pitch.  When they entered the stands, Niamh and Colin headed upwards while Harry headed out onto the field where the rest of the team was waiting.

“Potter!  It’s about time!”

Harry sighed and said, “Sorry.  La’e breakfast.”

Flint scowled and growled, “Whatever.  Let’s get in the air!”

The team mounted their brooms and kicked off into the air.  Harry had a second’s trouble controlling the Nimbus, which he hadn’t rode since he’d gotten it, but he easily got it under control.  It was a much better broom than the old school broom he had been riding.  As he flew he heard the shutter flash of a camera and groaned.

One of the Beaters, Bole, yelled, “What’s that Gryffindor doing in the stands?”

Harry moved down to hover beside him and said, “Colin Creevey.  ‘E’s been following me ‘round fer a while.”

Flint now was beside them, his face stern.

“Gryffindor spy?”

Harry shook his head.

“Na.  Too…‘appy.  ‘E’s na a spy, doan worry.”

Flint frowned then nodded, snapping, “Alright.  Let’s get back to practice.”  They were an hour into practice when there was suddenly movement on the ground below them.

“What?!” bellowed Flint and shot towards the ground.  The rest of the team followed him, all of them but Harry glaring at the Gryffindor team in their scarlet robes.

“The field’s ours,” growled Flint.  “We’ve got another hour.”

“Not anymore,” said Wood, the Gryffindor captain.

“What do you think your pulling, Wood?”

“What do you think your pulling, Flint?  The pitch is booked to us for the next three hours.  McGonagall approved it.”

“Snape approved us!” roared Derrick, the other Slytherin Beater.

“Not anymore,” said Wood.

Flint turned a shade of crimson and snarled, “We’ll see about this.”  With that he charged off the field, the Slytherin team slowly following him.  Harry turned to Fred and George and asked, “Wha’s goin’ on?  We still ‘ad the field fer another hour!”

Fred shrugged and replied, “Wood pulled something with McGonagall.  She wants to win the Cup this year.  Really does.  I can’t believe she’d pull something like this.”

“Seems more like something Snape would do,” said George.  “No offense, Harry.”

“None taken.  Can she do tha’?  Kick us off?”

The twins shrugged.  George said, “Don’t know.  But she just did.  You’d better get going Harry.”

“Before Oliver claims your trying to put a spell on us or something,” added Fred.  “After all, you are the renowned ‘Lord of Hexes’.”

Harry snorted.  “Wha’?”

“Silly little nickname everybody’s been calling you since we found out you know all those hexes and curses.”

Harry shook his head then looked up to see Wood stalking towards the three of them, looking very angry.  He said, “I’ll ge’ off now.  I’ve got a hex to finish workin’ on anyway.”

“Hex?” asked Fred and George in surprise.

“Yeh.”

“You’ll have to show us it when you’re done.”

“You will show us won’t you, Harry?”

“‘O course!” said Harry with a laugh as he turned and headed off the field.  He didn’t see Niamh in the stands but he did see Colin, camera clicking away.  Guessing Niamh had headed back up to the castle after the other Slytherins thinking he was with them, Harry turned in that direction.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Broomstick slung over his shoulder, Harry wandered along the halls, stopping from time to time to talk to the portraits.  As he reached the way that led down into the dungeons he heard an icy voice.  A voice that seemed to be coming from the very walls.

“Come to me…Let me rip you…Let me tear you…Let me kill you…”

Harry gasped and stumbled backwards into the wall, his Nimbus clattering to the floor.  He strained his ears, listening, but the voice was gone.  Leaning down to pick up his Nimbus, he muttered, “What in the soddin’ ‘eck was tha’?”

Eyes flickering along the cold stone walls, he hurried down the stairs and to the door to the dormitories.

“Crucio.”

As the wall slid aside, he grumbled, “Trus’ the ‘Ead Boy ter pick an Unforgivable fer the password.”

He entered the common room and saw Niamh sitting in the darkest corner of the room, a single torch above her head giving her enough light to read.  Harry recognized the big book easily enough.  Walking on silent feet towards her he asked, “Aurors of the Centuries again?”

Niamh yelped and must have leapt six feet.  She glared at Harry as he laughed at her.

“That wasn’t funny.”

“The look on yer face was.”

Niamh glared at him some more but that only caused him to laugh more.  Rolling her eyes, she said, “Oh, shut up.  Go get changed then grab some couch.  You’ve been wanting to look at this book for ages.”

Harry grinned and went to change, returning a few moments later.  He slid onto the couch beside Niamh and they sat the large book in-between them.  Harry completely forgot about the voice.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Two weeks later…

“Halloween, already?”

Harry nodded, not looking up from the book of hexes and curses.

“Yeh.”

“Are you reading that again?  What is this, the second time?”

“Fourth.”

“Fourth!”

“Ni, ye read more than I do.”

“But I don’t read the same book four times!”

Harry glanced up, giving her a skeptical look from under the fringe of black hair that fell over his face.  Niamh sighed and said, “Alright, alright.  I give.”

“Na read the same book four times.  Ha!  If I doan recall, ye’ve read Aurors of the Centuries six times.”

“So?  It’s a good book.”

“So’s this,” said Harry, closed the book and waving it at her before heading into the boy’s dormitory to put it up.  When he returned, he said, “C’mon.  Le’s go find Hermione and Ron.  Is Gin comin’?”

Niamh shook her head.  “I asked her but she said no.  I guess she doesn’t want to see Ron or Percy.”

“They’re still on abou’ i’, are’n they?”

“Yeah.  Silly prats.  At least Fred and George aren’t acting like she’s got the plague or something.”

Harry nodded then said, “Le’s go.”  The two of them left Arx Serpens and headed upstairs towards the Great Hall.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Hmm.  No Ron, no Mione.  Where do you think they are?”

Harry squinted at the Gryffindor table then shrugged.

“Doan know.”

“Should we go look for them?”

“I’ll go.”

“Harry…”

“Oi, I c’n call off Norri, ‘member?  An’ hide from Filch.  I’ll be fine, doan worry.”

Niamh smiled and said, “Alright.  Just don’t get caught.  Don’t want to be pickling toad livers with Snape again, do you?”

“‘Onestly, Ni, i’ was’n tha’ bad.”

Niamh shook her head, still smiling.

“You and your potions.”

“Ye an’ yer Aurors.”

“You and your curses.”

“Ye an’ yer hexes.”

“Alright, alright.  Get going.”

Grinning, Harry rose and crept out of the Hall.  He slipped past snoozing portraits, eyes darting back and forth as he watched for any sign of Filch, Ron, or Hermione.  Or any other wandering student.  Relying fully on his street instincts, Harry slipped down the hallways.

Then he heard it again.  The cold, icy voice that filled him with dread.

“…kill…rip…tear…kill…”

He gasped, grabbing the wall for support.

“…so hungry…sooooo hungry…”

The voice was fading, moving forward.  Down the hallway.  Harry sprang after it, running for all he was worth, ears cocked as he listened for it.

“…kill…rip…tear…kill…time to kill…”

Harry followed it, hurtling up staircases to the second floor.  He vaguely heard feet pounding behind him and two familiar voice yelling, “Harry!  Wait up!”

“…I smell blood…I SMELL BLOOD!”

He kept running until something on the floor in front of him shimmered.  Skidding to a halt, he found himself hovering at the end of a puddle of water.  Looking around he noticed in a corner of his mind that he was right outside the bathroom where he and Ron had rescued Niamh from the mountain troll the year before.  But that wasn’t what he actually did notice.

Painted on the wall in large red letters were words:

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.  ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Harry stared at it, not noticing two people come up behind him until one of them tapped him on the shoulder.  He whirled and came face to face with a surprised Ron and Hermione.  Hermione looked up at him (he was a head taller than her) with concerned brown eyes and asked, “Harry, what’s wrong?”

Harry quickly said, “I – I ‘eard a voice.  It was talkin’ abou’ killing!”

Ron and Hermione looked at each other.

“We didn’t hear anything,” said Ron.

Harry shrugged and turned back to the letters.  That’s when he noticed something hanging from one of the torch brackets.  Inching forward, he recognized it, letting out a low moan.

“Oh, Norri…”

Mrs. Norris was hanging from the bracket, stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

“C’mon, Harry, we’ve got to get out of here.”

“But…  Norri…”

Ron tugged on his arm and growled, “Now!”

But it was too late.  The sounds of footsteps barreling up the stairs echoed down the halls.  A few moments later they were surrounded.  The cheerful voices stopped as soon as everyone saw the cat.  And then their eyes turned to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“Enemies of the Heir, beware!  You’ll be next, Mudbloods!”

Draco shoved his way to the front of the crowd, face flushed.  Harry’s fists clenched involuntarily at the sight of the other boy and he growled, eyes narrowing to furious slits.  Niamh suddenly appeared out of nowhere and threw her arms around him.

“Harry!”

“What’s going on here?”

Filch shoved his way through the crowd of students, face paling when he saw Mrs. Norris.

“My cat!  What happened to her?!”

His eyes scanned the crowd, falling on Harry, who was still glaring at Draco.

“You!  You did this, you…”

“Argus!”

Dumbledore strode forward, followed by the other teachers.  He detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket then said, “Come with me, Argus.  Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, I suggest you come as well.”  He then added, “You may come too, Miss O’Feir.”

“My office is closest, Headmaster…  Feel free…” said Lockhart as he stepped forward.

“Thank you, Gilderoy,” said Dumbledore.  Niamh didn’t even snort at the mention of the name, simply clung to Harry’s arm.  She looked worried.

Snape and McGonagall followed them into the dark office.  As the light went on, there was a flash of movement from the walls.  Pictures of Lockhart were all over the walls and their occupants dashed out of sight when the lights came on.  Dumbledore laid Mrs. Norris on Lockhart’s desk and began to examine her, McGonagall leaning close over him.  Snape stood looking over them, his face half hidden in shadow but one could see he was trying hard not to smile.  Lockhart hovered around them, making comments.  And it was all punctuated by Filch’s hacking sobs.

Harry, Niamh, Ron, and Hermione were clustered over to the side.  Ron and Hermione were watching Dumbledore and McGonagall while Harry shook his head, eyes closed, Niamh saying something to him in a soft voice.

Dumbledore finally straightened and said, “She’s not dead, Argus.”

Filch jerked as though he had been electrified.  “Wh-what?”

“She’s not dead.  She’s been Petrified.”

“Ah!  I thought so!” said Lockhart, earning a snort from Niamh that in turn earned a half smile from Harry.

Dumbledore continued, “How she came to be Petrified I cannot say…”

“It was him!  Ask him!”  Filch pointed a bony hand at Harry.

“No second year could have done this, Argus,” said Dumbledore.  “It is Dark Magic of the most advanced…”

“It was him, I tell you!  HIM!”

Harry bristled visibly, rage flashing across his features.  Eyes flashing angrily, he bellowed, “I did’n touch Mrs. Norris!”

“LIAR!” shrieked Filch, causing Harry to snarl in rage.  Niamh and Ron grabbed his arms, just in case.

But Harry didn’t make any move forward.  He simply looked coldly at Filch, his voice harsh as he snapped, “Why would I ‘urt Mrs. Norris?  I’ve go’ no reason ter!”

“You hate her!  All you measly brats hate her!”

“Na me!”

The four teachers in the room looked at him.  “What do you mean, Harry?” asked Dumbledore.

Harry took a deep breath and explained.  Filch was shaking his head furiously all the while, as thought refusing to believe it.  When Harry finished, Dumbledore nodded.

“I see…yes, Minerva?”

McGonagall looked at Harry and asked, “What were you doing on the second floor, Potter?  I understand why Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley were there but not you.  Why?”

Harry’s mouth fell open.  He couldn’t very fell tell the teachers he had heard a voice talking about killing.  They’d think he was mad.  He tried to think of an excuse.

But Hermione thought of one for him first.

“Er – he was walking with us, professor!”

McGonagall frowned at her and said, “Don’t try and protect him, Miss Granger.”

“But it’s the truth!”

“Yes, professor, it is,” said Ron.

McGonagall looked sternly at them but was interrupted by Snape.

“Perhaps they were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.”  He turned his black eyes down towards McGonagall’s face and asked silkily, “Is Mr. Potter to be punished for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

McGonagall frowned then said, “Well, where were Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley?  I did not see the two of you at the Feast.”

Hermione and Ron shifted uneasily before answering.  Hermione answered actually.

“Well, professor, Ron got invited to this – erm – party and he wanted me to come.”

“What party?” asked McGonagall.

“Nearly Headless Nick’s deathday party,” mumbled Ron.

“And you didn’t come to the feast afterwards?”

Ron and Hermione shook their heads.  McGonagall frowned at them then said, “Alright.  Though I believe Mr. Potter should be taken off the Quidditch team.”

“What!” cried Harry and Niamh in outrage, echoed by Ron and Hermione.

“You can’t!” shrieked Niamh while Harry scowled at McGonagall, who started at him.  From behind her Snape sneered.

Dumbledore shook his head and said, “Innocent until proven guilty.”  He turned to the four students and added, “You four may return to your dormitories.  Severus, would you escort them?”

Snape nodded and ushered them out of the room as Filch began to scream in outrage.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

As soon as Ron and Hermione were safely back in Gryffindor tower, Snape escorted Harry and Niamh down to the Slytherin dungeon.  Niamh kept look between the two of them, eyes wide.  Neither of them noticed or just simply ignored it.

Harry only spoke once on the way down.

“Ye doan think I did tha’ ter Mrs. Norris do ye, professor?”

Snape smiled gently down at Harry and shook his head.  He softly said, “No, Harry, I do not.  And you will not be taken off the Quidditch team.  Draco’s the reserve and he’d make a much better Beater than a Seeker.”

Harry nodded his acknowledgment while Niamh smiled.  When they finally reached the entrance to the dormitory, Snape bid them goodnight and walked on down the hallway to his personal quarters.  Niamh spoke the password and the two of them went inside.

Harry headed straight for the boys dormitories, not even giving Niamh a second glance.  But Niamh understood how he felt.  She smiled after him then vanished into the girl’s dorm.  Neither of them noticed a pair of bright brown eyes watching them from the most shadowed corner.