Harry's walk down to the Great Hall was indeed filled with claps on the back and handshakes for their daring stunt. Everyone seemed to want to know how they did it, whose idea it was. Harry didn't really think about not like that. He wished people would stop congratulating him and the twins, they were just trying to get to school. If anything, Harry still wanted to know why the barrier was closed in the first place.

Harry's desire to move on only got stronger when Mrs. Weasley sent Fred and George a Howler at breakfast. The red card screamed their mother's displeasure ten times louder than she could in person. It wasn't the first time they had received one of there from their mother, but news their father was under investigation at work did diminish their spirits.

This was the first time Harry had seen either of the Weasley twins shy away from attention, the two stared at the ashes of the Howler. They put their heads together whispering before disappearing out of the hall. Ginny too was hiding, her mother had tacked on congratulations at the end of her tirade. It seemed the first year girl didn't want the whole school's attention.  Harry knew how that felt, most of his first-year people wanting to talk to him, just because he was the famous Harry Potter.

Harry collected his class schedule from Professor McGonagall and headed off for his first class, Potions, of course. Class went surprisingly smoothly, Harry only had to listen to Draco's comments about the flying car and Mr. Weasley for five minutes before he was able to set up his supplies on the other side of the room, partnering with Neville. The professor reminded him of his detention that evening, with a sneer and an arched eyebrow. Transfiguration too went perfectly fine, not a single thing of interest. Defense Against the Dark Arts, on the other hand, was a complete disaster.

The class started with Lockhart giving a pop quiz on his books, the required texts for the class, all seven of them. However, the material in question wasn't about how he defeated any of the dark creatures, or what spell to use in certain situations. No, instead he asked about his favorite color, secret ambition. Harry looked at Neville who shrugged and went back to his own quiz. After the quiz that only Hermione passed the man released a cage full of Cornish Pixies, which he couldn't control. It was left to Harry, Neville, and Hermione to put them back in their cage.

Harry was glad when dinner arrived, even if he had detention right after. He slipped into his seat by George. The twins seemed to have gotten over much of their embarrassment from the morning and were back to their joking selves. That was until Professor McGonagall found them to inform them of their detentions. The twins would be serving theirs with Fitch, cleaning the trophy room with no magic, on Saturday. Harry, on the other hand, would serve his with Lockhart the same evening.

“Can't I do it with anybody else?" Harry pleaded.

"The professor requested you specifically Potter," she told him with a disapproving sniff.

"Are you sure I can't just do extra with Professor Snape," Harry offered.

The woman raised an eyebrow, "It's a punishment, Potter. You don't get a say in who it is with. How would it look if I gave you your pick of the staff?"

"That he's a right nutter if he's picking Snape," Fred commented.

Harry didn't miss the way the deputy headmistress's lips quirked up at the corners at his remark. Still, she said, "Seven o'clock Saturday, Professor Lockhart's office."

"Yes ma'am," Harry sighed. He gathered his things and made his way down to Professor Snape's office.

"Come in Potter," he called after Harry's light tap.

"Hi," Harry said standing before the man's sturdy wooden desk.

"Good evening," the man greeted. He stood and walked back into the classroom, Harry following behind him.

Harry took a seat when the man gestured. The man returned a moment later a roll of parchment in his hand. Harry cocked his head to the side.

"You will spend the evening writing me an essay detailing all of the mistakes you made yesterday when you and the Weasleys decided to steal their father's car. You are to include the possible ramifications of your actions for yourself and those you accompanied. Do not forget to include what impact this might have on Mr. Weasley's career," professor Snape explained.

Harry took the parchment. "Can I use a quill? I thought I'd be scrubbing cauldrons or something."

"You may," the professor said emphasizing the word. He handed the boy a summoned quill and an ink well.

Harry put his head down and began to write. He worked diligently for about thirty minutes.

"Done already, Potter?" Professor Snape asked looking up from his ingredients.

Harry shook his head, "Thinking." His gaze drifted off to the corner. He ran the quill under his chin before dipping it in the ink well and scratching away. He worked quietly for the next hour and a half until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Harry jolted under the touch, splattering ink all over his essay.

"I apologize." The professor said taking back his hand. "I did not mean to startle you."

"It's OK," Harry said setting his quill down. "Did I do something wrong?"

Snape's eyebrow rose curiously. The man quickly moved his wand over the ink that was starting to sink into the parchment, obscuring Harry's words.

"Right now," Harry clarified, watching fascinated as ink vanished.

"No," Professor Snape reassured, "However, it is late. You need to return to Gryffindor Tower now to ensure you are not out past curfew."

"OK," Harry said standing up and stretching.

"Have you completed your assignment?"

Harry shook his head, "Not yet. Sorry."

"There is no need to apologize. It shows you are taking it seriously. I expect it on my desk Monday."

Harry nodded. He rolled up the parchment to take with him. "Sir," he asked nervously.

"What is it, Potter?"

"I'm supposed to have detention with Lockhart on Saturday," Harry began.

"I am not excusing you from detention." The professor corrected sharply.

Harry shook his head, "I'm not asking you to..."

An eyebrow went up again, the man waiting patiently for Harry to speak.

"I just don't want to do it with him," Harry whined.

"Then we should be glad you weren't asked asked to express a preference," Professor Snape said coolly. "I am aware you already discussed this with your Head of House. You will do what Lockhart assigns you on Saturday, Potter."

Harry sighed, "Yes Sir."

"If you keep that up I will make sure he oversees them all."

Harry straightened up.

"Have a good evening, Potter." Professor Snape said dismissing the boy.

Harry grabbed his parchment and headed back to Gryffindor Tower. He was distracted when he heard what sounded like a whisper, but there was nobody around. Harry forgot about it by the time he got back to the Common Room.

The rest of the week went by fairly quickly. Oliver Wood found Harry to inform him the first Quidditch practice of the year would be Sunday since Harry and the twins were in detention on Saturday. Oliver wanted to win the Cup this year after coming so close the year before. They should have won last year, but Harry missed the game while recovering from his encounter with Voldemort.

Harry's detention with Lockhart was the worst he sat through, including three hours gutting frogs for Professor Snape. Harry spent almost four hours addressing the return envelopes to the professor's fan mail, while the man rambled about the price of being famous. He kept trying to give Harry about what Harry should and shouldn't do with his fame.

It was late in that third hour that Harry heard that voice again.

"So hungry," the voice whispered.

"What was that?" Harry demanded.

"What was what?" Lockhart said looking up concerned.

"That voice," Harry stood on his chair trying to locate the source.

Lockhart looked at Harry nervously, "Look at the time. No wonder you're tired. We've been here nearly four hours.  Let's call it a night."

Harry grabbed his bag and headed off trying to find the source. It disappeared around the second floor. He told Hermione and Neville about it this time. Neither of them had heard anything unusual. Harry missed the scared look of concern, that passed between his friends. But when Harry hadn't heard it again, nor commented on it for several weeks they let it go.

Instead, they focused on classes, and for Harry, Quidditch. Malfoy was named Seeker for the Slytherins, not based on talent, but his father buying the whole team new Nimbus 2001s. It didn't matter, Harry knew they would beat them when the time came.

Quidditch wasn't the only thing Harry was looking forward to, Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost had invited Harry, Hermione, and Neville to his five hundredth Death Day celebration. Harry had never been to a Death Day party before. Hermione didn’t think many living people had been, they were normally attended by ghosts and those sorts of creatures. It would make Halloween memorable.

As it turned out, the day was more memorable than anybody would like to admit. The Death Day party wasn't very fun. The dungeon where it was was cold and damp, all of the food was rotten. The band playing saws gave Harry a headache. The trio was heading up to the Great Hall to join the feast when Harry heard the voice again.

Harry ran up the stairs following it, Neville, and Hermione right behind him. Again, Harry lost track of it on the first floor, just outside of the girls' lavatory. That wasn't the only thing they found, but a seemingly dead Mrs. Norris hung on the wall, writing below her in blood, "The Chamber of Secrets is Open. Enemies of the Heir Beware.”

"Let's go," Neville begged.

Before they had a chance, they were found by students heading back to their common rooms, the feast was over. Their attention was drawn to where Harry and his friends stood in a large puddle of water, in front of the bloody message.

"Enemies of the heir beware," a drawling voice read out loud. It was Malfoy, wonderful. "Better watch out Mudbloods."

"My cat," Filch moaned seeing Mrs. Norris hanging. He turned to Harry, "You've killed her."

"Who was here first?" Professor McGonagall demanded of the crowd.

Many in the crowd shrugged. Hermione stepped forward, "We were."

"Of course," the woman muttered.

"Can you explain, Miss Granger?" Professor Dumbledore asked softly. 

"We went to Sir Nicholas' Death Day party," Neville began.

"We were coming back to join the feast," Harry continued.

"But we thought it would be over so we're going to see if we could get something from the kitchens.  We know we're not supposed to, but all the food at the Death Day Party was spoiled.
On our way, we stumbled on this." Hermione finished.

Harry looked at his friend puzzled, but she shook him off.

"He's killed my cat," Filch whimpered once more.

Professor Dumbledore came closer to inspect the writing on the wall and Mrs. Norris. "She isn't dead," he said after several minutes and waving his wand over her frozen form.

Filch looked up shocked.

"Too bad I wasn't here," Lockhart said popping up behind the headmaster. "I know just the counter curse."

Harry didn't miss Professor Snape rolling his eyes at the remark.

Professor Dumbledore ignored the comment, instead, he comforted the caretaker. "Professor Sprout is growing a batch of mandrakes. When they come of age will be able to revive Mrs. Norris." Turning to the students he said, "Now, everyone off to bed."

The crowd started to shift off toward their dormitories.

"You three, stay," Professor McGonagall requested. 

Nobody had to ask what three she meant.  They stopped waiting patiently for the professor's next inquiry.

"Is there anything you would care to add to your earlier explanation?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

They all shook their heads. Harry made sure not to look at him or the Potions Master. Both seemed to have the ability to know what he was thinking. 

"Very well," the headmaster said dismissing them.

"Granger," Snape called after them.

Hermione stopped Professor Snape didn't ever hold her back.  If he did that for anyone, it was alway Harry. 

"You should know for the future Granger, that the kitchens are located in the basement."

Hermione nodded, "Yes sir.  Thank you."

The three didn't speak until they were half way back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Why didn't you tell him the truth?" Harry asked.

"We were hungry, we would have gone to the feast if you hadn't gone running off." Neville pointed out.

"Harry, even in the wizarding world hearing voices nobody else can isn't good," Hermione said hopping the trick stair.

"She's right," Neville agreed. His own jump was less successful, catching one foot causing him to lose his balance.

Harry and Hermione helped him back to his feet. This was the first time Harry was really worried about the voice. He wondered if it had anything to do with painting on the wall. Could this be what Dobby's warning was about? Who was the heir anyway? Harry shared these concerns with his friends.

Hermione was able to at least answer one of those questions. She told them of the legend of Salazar Slytherin, one of the four original founders of Hogwarts. He, unlike his fellow founders, didn't approve of teachings Muggle-Borns. He wanted to keep magic only in Pure Blood families. Before he left the castle for the last time, he released a monster in his secret chamber. Hermione couldn't find anything in all of her reading to prove that it existed. The professors refused to give any credit to the legend. Professor Snape threatened to take points from anyone who mentioned it in class. Without the heir of Slytherin and the chamber discussion in Potions turned back to the upcoming Quidditch match.

Harry crawled out of bed before any of his roommates were awake. He collected his Quidditch robes and headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He was joined shortly after by Chasers, Katie Bell, and Angelina Johnson. Wood came sat with them as he brought the still half asleep Weasley twins with him. Wood spent the meal going over strategy, encouraging his players to eat, meanwhile touching nothing himself.

As the crowd began to fill with the breakfast he moved the team down to the pitch. He paced and lectured for another half hour before George reminded him they still needed to change into their uniforms. Wood broke the meeting for ten minutes to let them change before calling them all back.

The bell rang in the changing room to announce it was time for the game to start. The team walked onto the field, paralleled on the opposite side of the pitch by the Slytherins. Wood and Marcus Flint, the Slytherin captain exchanged bone-crushing handshakes. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and they were off.

Harry flew straight up casting his gaze around for the tiny gold ball. Draco traced his movements. Harry ignored the blonde flying ten feet below him. He dodged a black bludger came zooming at him. It changed course and again went after Harry. He flew out of its way once again. It went to attack him again.

Harry could hear Lee's commentary on the ball's unusual behavior at this point. Fred and George came to fly on either side of their Seeker. No matter how hard they hit it, the bludger came right back.

The twin's protection made it impossible for any of them to play properly. Harry waved the twins off after awhile. The only way the ball would leave him alone is the game came to an end. He needed to catch the Snitch to do that. He didn't know the score, it didn't matter he just wanted the match to end.

Harry flew in complex zig and zags trying to look for the Snitch and avoid the obsessed ball. He as it. He just needed to make Malfoy he was still trying to avoid the bludger. He soared downward his eyes fixed on the ball.

Draco saw it too. He laid down on his broom urging it to go faster. He was twenty away... ten feet away.... Harry put out one hand to grab it

Smash! The bludger crashed into the arm!

Harry screamed in pain.

Five feet...

Harry raised his good arm leaned out and snatched the tiny winged ball. He landed his broom blinded by the pain.

Hermione and Neville were on the ground waiting for him. The bludger came after him again. Hermione flicked her wand and it exploded. Harry tipped over he was going to be sick. He needed to get to the hospital wing.

"I can help," a swishy voice said above Harry.

"No," Harry groaned.

"Doesn't know what he's saying," dismissed Lockhart.

"No," Harry said trying to shove the man away.

Lockhart waved his wand and muttered a spell Harry couldn't hear. Harry's arm didn't hurt anymore. It felt like it was no longer there.

"The bones are gone," Neville observed.

Harry looked down at his now boneless arm, then promptly fell back, the world going back. He woke up in the Hospital Wing, a scowling Potions Master standing over his cot.

"Couldn't wait to have the matron look at your arm, Potter?" Professor Snape said picking up Harry's limp arm.

"It's not my fault," Harry complained. "Lockhart tried to fix it."

"This is what you get when you ask those to do something beyond their capabilities."

"I didn't ask," Harry protested, "He just did it.  Can you fix it?"

"Madam Pomfrey will see to your care. I was here to provide her with a fresh batch of Skele-Grow. It will not be a pleasant process regrowing your bones, Potter."

"Great," Harry grumbled lying back down.

"Indeed," agreed the potions master.

"If you were at the match, how come you didn't come and fit it? Or least stop that mad bludger?" Harry demanded.

"I will let that go as you are in pain, but you would do well to remember I am still a professor, Potter," Snape said softly.  "It is not my place as a spectator to interfere with malfunctioning.  That is the responsibility of the referee."

"You would have if it was Malfoy," Harry accused.  

Madam Pomfrey appeared a moment later shoo-ing Snape out of the room before he had a chance to respond. Harry held his arm in place as she secured the boneless mass to his chest. She gave him a foul tasting potion Harry lay back and fell back to sleep.

Many hours later, Harry woke up to the sound of crying. It was Dobby! The creature explained it was he who charmed the bludger. He only wanted Harry to go back home. The same was true of the train, if he was expelled, Harry could not be hurt at Hogwarts.

It was a good thing he didn't have the use of both of his arms. Otherwise, Harry would have strangled Dobby to death. The house elf disappeared with a snap of his fingers when Harry tried to grab him.

Harry hadn't gotten back to sleep when there was a commotion at the other end of the ward. Harry strained to hear what the professors were saying.

"Petrified," Professor McGonagall said heavily.

"What was he doing out," Madam Pomfrey asked.

"Coming to see Potter, I expect. Maybe he caught a picture of what did this."

Picture? A camera? It had to be Colin Creevy. The boy had his camera with him wherever he went. He was obsessed with Harry too! He was always trying to take Harry's picture.

What attacked Colin they wouldn't know. When the professor tried to remove the film, it went up in smoke. Who could be doing this? Who was the heir? They needed to find out and soon, Harry's best friend was a Muggle Born.

Harry told Hermione and Neville the next morning about all he had seen in the Hospital Wing the night before. Hermione was trying to find out more about Slytherin's monster and the Chamber of Secrets, but other than the small mention in Hogwarts a History, she couldn't find anything.

The hunt for the heir only became more pressing after the first and only meeting of the Dueling Club.

“Good evening,” Lockhart said greeting the crowd as removed his lilac cloak, throwing it out to the gathered students.  A fourth year Ravenclaw girl and her friends giggled when she caught it.
 
“Good evening,” the students replied a mixed level of enthusiasm.
 
“Can everybody see me? Can everybody hear me?” Lockhart asked, not bothering to wait for a reply.  “In light of the recent happenings, the headmaster has allowed me to organize this dueling club.  The desire of this club is to provide each of you a basic ability to defend yourself.  I have kindly asked and luckily he graciously accepted, Professor Snape to assist me with this task.  Don’t worry everybody, you’ll still have a Potions Master when I’m done.”
 
Like many of his fellow students, Harry was looking forward to the possibility attending a Dueling Club. There was a great deal of speculation as to who would be instructing, possibly Professor Flitwick he was supposedly a dueling champion in his youth. It was much Harry’s and most of the boy’s disappointment that it turned out the main instructor turned out to be Lockhart.  The fact he enlisted the aid of Professor Snape made up for it slightly. Harry wanted to see the Potions Master whip the floor with the poncy git.
 
“Yeah, but will you still be here,” Harry muttered.
 
Neville chuckled uneasily.  The boy didn’t exactly understand Harry’s relationship with the teacher. The man was often mean to Harry in front of others, but when Harry talked about him in private it was as if he was an entirely different person. Also, the man scared him, more than Gran even.
 
“We will start by taking our positions,” Lockhart said. The two men raised their wands in salute. Before Lockhart knew what hit him, he was flat on his back his wand in Professor Snape’s hand.
 
The Slytherins cheered the loudest, but the rest of the boys weren’t far behind them.
 
“Very good, Severus. A bit predictable, though. I could have blocked him if I wanted,” Lockhart reassured the crowd.
 
Harry scoffed and watched the Professor Snape raise a dubious eyebrow.
 
“Very well, let’s have a pair of students now,” Lockhart said, “Potter and Longbottom.”
 
“If it is Longbottom, you’ll be sending Potter back to his aunt in pieces. Might I suggest someone from my own house?”
 
Lockhart nodded.
 
“Malfoy,” the dark-haired professor snapped and gestured toward the stage.
 
The blonde boy scurried up to the stage. Harry was much more sedate in his approach. The boys glared at one another as they took their positions on the dais.

“You will salute your opponent and then on the count of three cast your Disarming Charm. You are to disarm your opponent only.” Lockhart instructed.
 
 “Scared, Potter.” Malfoy goaded.
 
“You wish,” Harry said raising his wand to the fighting position.
 
“Three- Two-” Lockhart counted.
 
Harry didn’t hear what spell Malfoy used, but it felt like he was hit over the head with a frying pan. He fell to the ground dazed, but he got right back up and yelled, "Rictusempra!"
 
A silver light shot at Malfoy and hit him square in the chest. The blonde was knocked over and landed with much disgrace in front of his Head of House. The man rolled his eyes as he grabbed the boy by the collar and got him back to his feet, turning him to face Harry once more.
 
“He’s cheating,” Hermione complained.
 
“Shut up Mudblood!” Millicent Bulstrode yelled at Hermione.
 
“Tarantallegra!” Malfoy yelled back.
 
The spell hit Harry causing his legs to jerk uncontrollably as if in a sort of quickstep. Meanwhile, a fistfight broke out in the crowd.  The students watching stepped away to give the fighters their space.
 
“Finite Incantatem!” Professor Snape growled causing Harry’s legs to stop moving. “Prefects break that lot apart.
 
“Serpensortia!” Malfoy yelled a great black snake appeared, slithering toward Harry, its fangs bared, ready to strike.
 
Professor Snape rounded on Malfoy a dark scowl across his face, he turned back to Harry, “Don’t worry, Potter. I’ll get rid of it.”
 
“I’ll do it,” Lockhart said jumping back up to the dais. He made an extravagant gesture with his wand with the aim to disappear the snake. Instead, it rose up into the air ten feet and landed back on the ground a few feet away from a Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchley.
 
Everyone froze. Everyone except for Harry. He stepped closer.
 
“Leave him alone,” Harry said to the snake.
 
The snake turned its head to Harry and then back to Justin.
 
“Stop,” Harry told it.
 
It stopped.
 
“Finite Incantatem!” Professor Snape said next to Harry. The snake vanished in a puff of smoke.
 
“What you playing at?” Justin demanded.
 
“What! I…” Harry tried to say.
 
“Come on we need to go,” Neville said pulling Harry away.
 
"Potter! Longbottom! Stay!" Ordered Snape.

Harry looked over his shoulder and stopped at the door to Great Hall.  Neville shook his head wanting to go on.  They stood there as the hall emptied the whole school abuzz with the theory Harry Potter was the Heir of Slytherin. Professor Lockhart had escorted a still squabbling injured Pansy Parkinson and Hermione to the Hospital Wing, leaving Harry and Neville alone in the vast room with the Potions Master.
 
“Why did you fail to mention you were a Parselmouth?” Snape asked his formal manner relaxing as he took a seat on the dais.
 
“A what?” Harry asked confused.
 
“A Parselmouth, you can talk to snakes.” Neville clarified.
 
“I didn’t know. I mean I sent a boa constrictor on my cousin at the zoo last year.  Still, I bet a bunch of people here can do that.”
 
“No,” Snape said firmly.  “It is an extremely rare talent Salazar Slytherin possessed it.  That is the reason my house bears the snake as its emblem. They only over Parslemouth I am aware of this century is the Dark Lord."

"Now, Everybody is going to think you’re related to him now that you sent that snake on Justin,” Neville added.
 
“I didn’t. I told it to leave him alone.” Harry insisted, “You heard me.”
 
"Potter, you were not speaking English.  You were speaking Parslemouth, the language of snakes, a series of hisses." Snape explained.
 
Harry shook his head. “How can I speak another language and not even know it?”
 
“Maybe you are related to Slytherin way-way back?” Neville suggested.

"Of that, I am not certain," Snape told him honestly, "but I doubt that you are related to Salazar Slytherin.  No, Potter was the epidemy of an idiotic Gryffindor."

"What about your mum?" Neville asked.

"No," Snape said just as firmly as before, but then stopped.

Harry looked at the man, but when he didn't continue Harry spoke up. "No, she was a Muggle Born."

"There's no chance she was a squib?"

"No, Longbottom, Lily's family was all Muggle," Snape answered.

"What's a squib?" Harry asked taking a seat down the dais from the teacher.

"It is a person from a magical family that possess no magic themselves."

"My gran thought I was one for ages until I bounced down the garden path," Neville explained.

Harry nodded in understanding. "So if I'm not the heir, who is?"