"How are we going to find the heir?" Harry asked flopping down in as chair next to Neville. "We don't even know who it could be."
"Maybe we do," Hermione objected.
"Who?" Harry asked.
"Who do we know that hates all Muggle-borns, their family uses dark magic, the whole family has been Slytherin for centuries?" Hermione asked.
Harry frowned. "Malfoy?"
"Gran said his dad was one of You-Know-Who's closest followers. He said he was Imperiused, but Gran doesn't believe it." Neville added.
"So what? We just go and ask him if he's the heir?" Harry remarked skeptically.
Hermione pulled a large text from her stack of books. She flipped it open to a marked page. She ran her finger down the page before she turned it back around to Harry.
"The Polyjuice Potion, which is a complex and time-consuming concoction, is best left to highly skilled witches and wizards. It enables the consumer to assume the physical appearance of another person, as long as they have first procured part of that individual's body to add to the brew (this may be anything - toenail clippings, dandruff or worse - but it is most usual to use hair)." Harry read. "So what you want us to change into who Crabbe and Goyle then?"
"Who else would he tell?" Hermione pointed out.
Harry looked at the text again. "It doesn't have the ingredients or anything. How do we make it?"
Hermione bit her lip. "The recipe isn't in here, we need a different book. It's in the Restricted Section. We need a teacher's note."
Harry sighed, "Great. Can you imagine me asking McGonagall... Or Snape."
"Lockhart," Neville suggested.
Both turned to look at the other boy.
Neville shrugged, "He'll sign pretty much everything."
Harry nodded. "That's great Neville. When do we start?"
"We need to ask Professor Lockhart first," Hermione said.
"Just tell him you want to do some extra research," Harry suggested.
"OK," Hermione said somewhat reluctantly.
"It has to be you, Hermione. You're his favorite. If he asks why you can just say you're trying to get ahead. If it's me or Neville he'll know something's up." Harry explained.
Hermione nodded but didn’t look happy about it.
The Defense professor signed the note for Hermione without a second thought. The librarian, Madam Pince was much more suspicious. She read it through half a dozen time and even waved her wand over to detect if it was forged. Only then did she disappear into the stacks of the Restricted Section to retrieve the needed text. Even when she returned, she didn't seem to want to give it to Hermione.
The boys followed their friend with her newly acquired text until she went into the girls' loo.
"Hermione," Harry hissed from the doorway.
"Come on," she said grabbing an arm of each of the boys.
"This is a girls' loo, Hermione," Neville whined. "My gran would kill me if she found out I was in here."
"Nobody comes in here," Hermione said sitting down on the floor.
"Why?" Harry asked following suit.
"Moaning Myrtle," Hermione said as she flipped through the book.
"What's Moaning Myrtle?" Harry asked.
“I'm Moaning Myrtle," the ghost of a teenage girl with a lot of acne and horned rimmed glasses.
"Nobody wants to talk to Moaning, Moping Myrtle." She let out a shriek and dived down a toilet.
Hermione waited a moment, to make sure the ghost wasn't coming back. "She's always like that. It's hard to have a pee while she's sobbing away." She turned her attention back to the text. "This is the most complex potion I've ever seen. We're going to need some special ingredients, crushed horn of a bicorn, lacewing flies, boomslang skin."
“Those aren't in the student cupboard. " Neville observed. "How are we going to get them?"
"I don't know. How long is going to take to make?" Harry asked.
"A month," Hermione said running a finger down the page.
"A month, all the Muggle-Borns will be petrified by then," Harry moaned.
"Do you have a better idea?" Hermione demanded.
Both boys shook their heads. They would start as soon as they got an extra cauldron. Neville had melted three last year, so his grandmother wasn't too surprised when he asked her to send another one. Hermione took care of all of the brewing. The only thing left to figure out was to get those ingredients. They needed to figure it out fast. Hermione needed to add them on a specific day, if not they would have brewed for three weeks, all for a worthless potion.
"I'm sure Professor Snape must have some in his private stores," Hermione said picking at her breakfast.
“How are we supposed to find out if he does? It's not like he'll let us in there." Harry groused. "What if we distracted him and we break into the cabinet? Neville could melt his cauldron again."
Neville shook his head. "I don't want to do that. Gran was really mad about having to buy me the cauldron we're using for the Polyjuice. Why don't we just owl order what we need?"
"We can do that?" Harry asked shocked.
"My gran does it all the time," Neville reassured.
"Really?"
Neville nodded.
"They might be expensive..." Hermione pointed out.
Harry shook his head, "I've got gold. If Snape caught us breaking into his potions cabinet he'd have me expelled and then murder me."
"OK," Hermione agreed.
Neville walked them through how to fill out the order form he had for one of the apothecaries and how to do have them directly draft the money from Harry's vault in Gringotts. They sent Hedwig off with their order right after lunch. It was only after they sent that Harry worried what the ingredients she brought back would look like. Would she come back carrying a vial in her talons and make Professor Snape come over and ask what they ordered? Harry breathed a sigh of relief when she came back the next morning, a small plain box attached to her leg.
Three days later they added the ingredients after lunch.
"How long do we have to wait?" Neville asked.
Hermione checked the instructions once more, "Only one week more than we can take it and change into our choice of Slytherin and find out what Malfoy released from the Chamber."
"How are we going to get bits of Slytherins?" Neville asked.
Harry frowned. That couldn't be too hard right? They just needed a hair from Crabbe, Goyle, and whoever Hermione planned to turn into.
"I got a hair off Millicent Bulstrode during Dueling Club." Hermione informed them, "and I have an idea how to get yours. It will also make sure that they don't come back and there are two Crabbes and Goyles."
She didn't tell them, what her plan was until the day they planned to do it.
Hermione gave Harry and Neville each a cake doused with a mild sleeping draft. It would knock them out for several hours. Harry and Neville would make sure they ate them, hide them and steal their robes. The three of them would then go down to Slytherin Common Room and ask Malfoy about the Chamber.
The first part went off no problem. Crabbe and Goyle ate the cakes Harry and Neville left hovering outside just outside a broom closet. The boys were able to steal their robes and shoes too and met Hermione in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. She poured out a measure of potion into each of the glasses. Harry took his portion and added Crabbe's short bristly hair watching as it turned to a grey-brown sludge. Neville's didn't look any better, all lumpy and brown. It looked like a cup full of boogies.
Everyone retreated to their own stall. Harry led the countdown to three when everyone drank their cup of potion. Harry gagged on the taste of it.
The book didn't mention how painful the transformation would be. It didn't talk about how it would feel like his skin was boiling from underneath. It didn't mention how it would feel like his intestines were being tied in knots and that. It didn't mention he would want to be sick to his stomach. It didn't say what it would feel like to have his bones and muscles stretched to Crabbe size.
Harry came out a moment later dressed in Crabbe's borrowed robes. Everything was fuzzy until he took off his glasses. He stared at himself in the mirror, his hair was like Crabbe's. His nose was wide and flat like Crabbe's. It was very strange.
"Harry," Neville asked stepping out of the stall to Harry's right, but the voice was the rumbling growl of Goyle's. Neville's round face was replaced by that of the Goyle.
“Come on Hermione," called Harry.
"No. You go," Hermione squeaked.
"Hermione," Neville rumbled.
"No, go! You're wasting time," Hermione insisted.
The boys shared a look before heading downstairs. Harry had managed to locate the Slytherin's Common Room the week before. The only problem they had was they didn't know the password. They got lucky when they ran into their target, Malfoy, on the way downstairs.
It didn't take long for them to find out that Malfoy wasn't the heir. He didn't know who the heir was either. He guessed that it was Harry. It was a lot harder for them to get out of the Slytherin Common Room then to get in. The boys ran back to the bathroom to tell Hermione everything they learned, but Hermione wouldn't come out of her stall.
"Hermione," Harry begged.
"Did I mention the potion is for human transformation?" Hermione asked.
"Are you OK?" Neville asked, his voice returned to normal, but much more nervous.
Hermione came out of the stall, her eyes yellow with vertical slits, face covered in black hair. A long tail was just visible behind her.
"Errrr...." Harry hesitated.
"We should go to the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey will know what to do." Neville urged.
Madam Pomfrey knew what to do alright, and admitted Hermione right away. She put up curtains so any visitors didn't see her by accident. It would take several weeks to cure Hermione of the effects of the misbehaving potion.
Madam Pomfrey didn't ask any questions, but Professor Snape was nothing but questions. "What do you mean you can't tell me what happened to Granger, Potter?" He demanded when Harry tried not give anything away.
"I don't know," Harry insisted. "Madam Pomfrey said it was a bad potion."
"Polyjuice, yes. And you have no idea why she took that particular potion?"
"I don't even know what that is," Harry said trying not to look the man in the eye.
"Look at me," Professor Snape demanded.
Harry's emerald gaze met the potions master's fierce onyx eyes reluctantly. The man's stare bore into Harry. Harry was certain the man could read his thoughts. He was done for.
"Potter, do not lie to me. Why did Granger take that potion?" It was said barely above a whisper, but Harry had never been more scared of him.
Harry bite his lip.
"I'm waiting, Potter." Professor Snape hissed.
"W...she... wanted to ... trying to find out ...ask Malfoy if he was the Heir of Slytherin." Harry stumbled.
"You little idiots tried to brew Polyjuice to infiltrate another house's common room?"
Harry shrunk back.
The professor gave an exasperated sigh. "Get out, Potter."
Harry looked up shocked," Sir."
"Get out, Potter." He repeated, jabbing his finger at the door.
Harry scurried out of the room confused. He wasn't sure exactly how he wasn't in trouble. Or maybe he was, he just was going to find out how later. He was guessing the later, but he would have to wait and see.
On his way back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry nearly crashed into the solid form of Nearly Headless Nick and the Muggle-born Hufflepuff, who Lockhart set the snake on, Justin Finch-Fletchley. Professor McGonagall found him moments later with the frozen bodies.
Harry tried to explain why he was there and how they had been like that when he got there. Still, she sent him to the headmaster's office. He waited nervously for the man to appear. He got a chance to try on the Sorting Hat once more. It again told him he would have done well in Slytherin, but stuck by his placement in Gryffindor. Harry's upset a the Hat was forgotten as Dumbledore’s large red and gold bird burst into flames just as the Headmaster entered the office.
It was only when the old man explained how Fawkes, his old friend, was a phoenix, and thus die and are reborn from the ashes. That was when Harry realized he wasn't in trouble for that too. There was a lot more to that bird than Harry expected. The birds have a beautiful song, their tears had healing powers, capable of carrying great amounts of weight. The most interesting thing to Harry was, that Fawkes was the Phoenix that provided the feathers that were the core of Harry and Voldemort's wands.
Dumbledore didn't think Harry froze Justin or any of the other victims. He did ask if there was anything else Harry wanted to tell him, but if he confessed to the Polyjuice incident he knew he'd be expelled. Besides, Professor Snape was going to punish him for that Harry was certain. It was only a matter of time.
He didn't have to wait too long. The professor sentenced both Harry and Neville to three weeks of cleaning with Filch. Hermione was excused because she was still recovering in the Hospital Wing. Harry and Neville brought her copies of the assignments every day, had dinner then met Filch for their nightly assignments. One of the nights was cleaning the trophy room, polishing all of the awards. Neville had a hard time with it, not used to cleaning without magic. He spent almost an hour cleaning one special award to the school to the caretaker's rigorous standards. Another evening they had to clean Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. She flooded it again after somebody tried to flush a book through her. Harry had kept the journal that was mysteriously unaffected by the water.
Even with detention, Harry was still able to make it to Quidditch practice. Wood wanted everybody in top shape for their game against Hufflepuff. The rest of the team wasn't too worried. Harry caught the Snitch in their last match in under ten minutes. The day before the game Hermione was finally allowed to return to the dorms.
While she was still in the Hospital Wing she had spent a lot of her time trying to figure out who the heir of Slytherin could be and what they might have released from the Chamber. All they knew was that it petrified its victims. Hagrid complained about how something kept killing his roosters too, but Harry didn't think that was related. It seemed like they were getting nowhere.
Harry hated the new news about having to be back in the Common Room just after dinner. The only break he ever got was during Quidditch practices which were now under the careful supervision of at least one professor. The only benefit was he got more time to spend working on his homework. He was caught up or ahead in all of his classes.
Looking for something to do one evening Harry went through his trunk. Maybe he and Neville could have a game of chess? He pushed some things out of his way trying to locate his chessmen. It was then he found the diary from Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom once more. He picked up back up once more.
There were three letters embossed on the cover, “TMR”. Harry turned to the first page, the only thing written there was “Property of Tom Marvolo Riddle”. Harry flipped through the book, there didn’t seem to be anything written in it. From the date on the top of the page, he could tell it was fifty years old. Why would anyone want to throw away any empty diary from fifty years ago?
Harry took out his quill and tried writing, “My name is Harry Potter.” The words disappeared an instant later. New words appeared a moment later, in a different hand.
Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come to have my journal?
Someone tried to throw it down a toilet.
It is a good thing I preserved my memories in something more permanent than ink. I always knew that people would not want anyone to read this diary.
Why?
I know things. Terrible things that were covered up at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
That’s where I am. Terrible things are happening again. Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?
Yes.
Can you tell me?
No.
Harry sat back frustrated, but a moment later more words appeared.
But I can show you.
Then Harry was falling, falling into the journal.
Harry stood in the main stairwell of the school. Upstairs he could see a tall good looking boy wearing Slytherin House robes. Harry followed the boy’s gaze down the stairs. Two teachers were carrying a stretcher away. One hand was just visible from under the sheet.
“What are you doing here, Tom?” A man asked.
Harry looked up shocked. He, who normally had long silver hair and a beard that went all the way down to his belt, now stood before, Harry hair was auburn and came down maybe to his shoulders, his beard mid-chest. Still, Harry knew that voice, even if the man looked very different today, there was no mistaking this was Albus Dumbledore.
“I heard rumors, sir. I wanted to see for myself.” The boy said coming to stand beside his professor.
“It’s true,” Dumbledore said sadly.
“They’ve said that if the killer isn’t caught they’ll shut the school down.”
“I’m afraid that’s also true.”
“I have nowhere to go,” Riddle said almost desperately. “What if the killer is caught?”
“What do you know, Tom?” Dumbledore demanded.
The boy marched off without another word. The scene jumped. They were now in a dark hallway. The great outline of a person stood before a cabinet.
“Hello, Hagrid,” Tom said to the boy. “Give me the creature. It’s killed a girl. It needs to be destroyed.”
“He didn’t kill nobody,” Hagrid shot back.
“Come now, Hagrid. Give it over,” Tom urged. “They’ll close the school if the killer isn’t caught.”
“It wasn’t Aragog.” Hagrid insisted.
“Move aside,” Tom demanded.
Hagrid didn’t move away. The lid opened slightly a leg barely visible.
“Move aside,” Tom repeated.
The lid opened a creature dashed away before Harry could get a good look at it. Then he was sitting back on his bed in the Gryffindor dormitory. He rushed downstairs to the tell Hermione and Neville what just happened. Both were much more suspect about what this Tom Riddle had to say. Neville remembered the name from having to polish his special award to school, that’s all they knew about him. Hermione wanted to go to the library to see if she could find out something more about him.
The morning of the Quidditch match Harry was running late. He missed breakfast trying to catch up on homework before the game. It was only when Neville came back from breakfast for his scarf that Harry realized how late he was. It didn't matter, though. The match was canceled when two more students were found petrified, a Ravenclaw prefect and Hermione.
Neither Harry nor Neville could explain what she was doing in the library or why she had a mirror in her hand. Everything changed at that point. Teachers had to escort students from class to class, everyone had to be back in their dorms an hour after dinner, and worst of all, all clubs and Quidditch were canceled.
Winter 1992