CHLOE WOKE UP on Sunday morning to find the hospital wing blazing with winter sunlight and her arm reboned but very stiff. She sat up quickly and looked over at Colin’s bed, but it had been blocked from view by the high curtains Chloe had changed behind yesterday. Seeing that she was awake, Madam Pomfrey came bustling over with a breakfast tray and then began bending and stretching her arm and fingers. “All in order. When you’ve finished eating, you may leave.” She said, as Chloe clumsily fed herself porridge right-handed.

Once Chloe got dressed, she hurried to Gryffindor Tower, desperate to tell Ron and Hermione about Colin and Dobby - but they weren’t there.

Chloe left to look for them, wondering where they could have got to. As she passed the library, Percy Weasley strolled out of it, looking in far better spirits than last time they had met. “Oh, hello, Chloe. Excellent flying yesterday, really excellent. Gryffindor has just taken the lead for the House Cup. You earned fifty points!” He pointed out.

“Thanks, Percy," said Chloe, with a friendly smile. "Have you seen Ron or Hermione anywhere?"

“No, I haven’t,” said Percy, his smile fading. “I hope Ron’s not in another girls’ toilet." He remarked.

After Chloe forced out a laugh and watched Percy walk out of sight, she headed straight for Myrtle’s bathroom, opened the door and heard Hermione and Ron's voices coming from a locked stall.

“It’s me,” said Chloe, who closed the door behind her. There was a clunk, a splash and a gasp from within the stall and she saw Hermione’s eye peering through the keyhole. “Chloe! You gave us such a fright, come in. How’s your arm?” She asked.

“Mended,” said Chloe, as she squeezed into the stall. An old cauldron was perched on the toilet and a crackling from under the rim told Chloe they had lit a fire beneath it, Conjuring up portable, water-proof fires was a specialty of Hermione's.

“We’d’ve come to meet you, but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion. We’ve decided this is the safest place to hide it.” Ron explained, as Chloe, with difficulty, locked the stall again.

Chloe started to tell Hermione and Ron about Colin, but Hermione interrupted. “We already know. We heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning. That’s why we decided we’d better get going-" She stated.

“The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better. D’you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin," snarled Ron, with crossed arms.

“Perhaps. But there’s something else,” said Chloe, whilst she watched Hermione tear bundles of knotgrass and throw them into the potion. “Dobby came for a little visit in the middle of the night.”

Ron and Hermione looked up, amazed. Chloe told them everything Dobby told her: or hadn’t told her. They both listened with their mouths open.

“Again? You mean, the Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?” Hermione questioned.

“This settles it,” said Ron, in a rather triumphant tone of voice. “Of course. Don't you see? Lucius Malfoy must have opened it when he was at school here. And now he's taught Draco how to do it. Wish Dobby’d told you what kind of monster’s in there, though. I want to know how come nobody’s noticed it sneaking around the school.” He pointed out.

“Maybe it can make itself invisible." Chloe suggested. "Or maybe it can disguise itself.. pretend to be a suit of armor or something. I’ve read about Chameleon Ghosts-" said Hermione, prodding leeches to the bottom of the cauldron.

“You two read too much.” Ron commented, as he poured dead lacewings on top of the leeches. He crumpled up the empty lacewing bag, before he looked at Chloe and said, “So Dobby stopped us from getting on the train and broke your arm..”

Chloe nodded, but Ron shook his head. “You know what, Chloe? If he doesn’t stop trying to save your life he’s going to kill you.” He realised, in concern.

The news that Colin Creevey had been attacked and was lying as though dead in the hospital wing had spread through the entire school by Monday morning. The air was suddenly thick with rumours and suspicion. The first-years were moving around the castle in tight-knit groups, as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured alone.

Ginny Weasley, who sat next to Colin Creevey in Charms, was distraught, but Chloe felt that Fred and George were going the wrong way about trying to cheer her up. They took turns covering themselves with fur or boils and jumping out at her from behind statues. They stopped when Percy, apoplectic with rage, told them he would write to Molly and tell her Ginny was having nightmares.

Meanwhile, hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in talismans, amulets and other protective devices was briskly sweeping the school.

Neville Longbottom bought a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal and a rotting newt tail before Seamus Finnigan and Daniel Page pointed out that he was in no danger; he was a pure-blood, and therefore unlikely to be attacked.

“They went for Filch first,” said Neville, looking fearful. “And everyone knows I’m almost a Squib.”

In the second week of December McGonagall came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas.

Chloe, Ron and Hermione signed the list; they had heard that Draco was staying, which struck them as very suspicious. The holidays would be the perfect time to use the Polyjuice Potion and try to worm a confession out of him.

Unfortunately, the potion was only half finished. They still needed the bicorn horn and the boomslang skin, and the only place they were going to get them was from Snape’s private stores.

Chloe privately felt she'd rather face Slytherin’s legendary monster than let Snape catch her robbing his office. “What we need is a diversion. Then one of us can sneak into Snape’s office and take what we need," said Hermione, as Thursday afternoon’s double Potions lesson loomed nearer.

Chloe and Ron looked at Hermione nervously. “I think I’d better do the actual stealing. You two will be expelled if you get into any more trouble, and I’ve got a clean record. So all you need to do is cause enough mayhem to keep Snape busy for five minutes or so.” She stated, in a matter-of-fact tone.

Chloe smiled, feebly. Deliberately causing mayhem in Snape’s Potions class was about as safe as poking a sleeping dragon in the eye.

Professor Snape's class took place in one of the large dungeons. Thursday afternoon’s lesson proceeded in the usual way. Twenty cauldrons stood steaming between the wooden desks, on which stood brass scales and jars of ingredients.

Snape prowled through the fumes, making waspish remarks about the Gryffindors’ work whilst Slytherin students sniggered appreciatively.

Draco Malfoy, one of Snape’s favorite students, kept flicking pufferfish eyes at Ron, who knew he would get detention that if he retaliated.

Chloe’s Swelling Solution was far too runny, most likely because she had her mind on far more important matters, such as carefully trying to remove the thick wad of gum that had been tossed at the back of her head, when Snape's back was turned. The icky pink chunk had gotten stuck deep in the tangles of the Potter girl's ringletted hair.

"Disgusting," muttered Ron, who had just seen Chloe finally manage to prise the pink and sticky substance out from her hair and away from the back of her head. The excessive oral fluid that slowly trickled down her thumb certainly wasn't making Chloe disagree with her best friend.

Just as Snape was making his way towards an anxious Neville, Chloe approached the classroom's cylindrical silver bin. On the way, her eyes met the student who expectorated the gum - Millicent Bulstrode, the large, brunette, Slytherin mean girl that gave equally nasty girls, such as Tracey Davis and Pansy Parkinson, a run for their money.

Unlike most of the other girls, Millicent was rotund and churlish. Furthermore, she was certainly one of the most brawny girls, often tormenting students physically. As a matter of fact, Millicent reminded Chloe a lot of Paisley Polkiss, the Muggle mean girl that was close friends with Chloe's cousin, Dudley.

"I've seen my cat cough up better-looking stuff than that beehive on your head, Potter." Millicent quietly spat, on Chloe's way back to her table.

When sat down and turned to Hermione, Chloe saw her nod. She nodded back, then looked beneath her table. "What are you doing?" Daniel murmured, suspiciously. Chloe glanced up and her Potions partner, then quietly whispered, "Shoelace."

Daniel nodded, although it was obvious he didn't believe Chloe. He was right not to. She ducked swiftly down behind her cauldron, pulled one of Fred’s Filibuster fireworks out of her pocket and gave it a quick prod with her wand. It began to fizz and sputter. Knowing she had only seconds, Chloe straightened up, took aim and lobbed it into the air; it landed right on target in Goyle’s cauldron.

Goyle’s potion exploded and showered the whole class. People shrieked, as splashes of the Swelling Solution hit them. Draco got a faceful and his nose began to swell like a balloon; Goyle blundered around, with his hands over his eyes, which had expanded to the size of a dinner plate. Snape was trying to restore calm and find out what had happened. Through the confusion, Chloe saw Hermione slip quietly into Snape’s office.

“Silence! SILENCE!” Snape roared. “Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draught - when I find out who did this-"

Chloe tried her best not to laugh whilst she watched Draco hurry forward, his head drooping with the weight of a nose like a small melon.

As half the class lumbered up to Snape’s desk, some weighted down with arms like clubs, others unable to talk through gigantic puffed-up lips, Chloe saw Hermione slide back into the dungeon, the front of her robes bulging. When everyone had taken a swig of antidote and the various swellings had subsided, Snape swept over to Goyle’s cauldron and scooped out the twisted black remains of the firework. There was a sudden hush.

“If I ever find out who threw this, I shall make sure that person is expelled.” Snape whispered.

Chloe arranged her face into what she hoped was a puzzled expression because Snape was looking right at her but the bell that rang ten minutes later could not have been more welcome.

“I think he knows I did it.” Chloe told Ron and Hermione as they hurried back to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Hermione threw the new ingredients into the cauldron and began to stir feverishly. “It’ll be ready in a fortnight.” She exclaimed, happily.

“Snape won't prove it was you.” Ron reminded Chloe, reassuringly. "He's always lenient with you."

"True, but I think being disappointed is arguably worse than him being mad at me." Chloe realised, as the potion frothed and bubbled.

A week later, Chloe, Ron and Hermione were walking across the entrance hall when they saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas beckoned them over, looking excited.

“They’re starting a Duelling Club!" Seamus told the Golden Trio, with an excited look. "First meeting tonight! I wouldn’t mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days!"

Ron turned to Seamus. “What, you reckon Slytherin’s monster can duel?” He joked, but he, too, read the sign with interest. “Could be useful. Shall we go?” He told Chloe and Hermione, as they headed to dinner. The girls were all for it.

At eight o’ clock, that evening, the Golden Trio hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited. “I wonder who’ll be teaching us? Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young. Maybe it’ll be him!" Hermione said, as they edged into the chattering crowd.

“Perhaps. I just hope it’s not-” Chloe began, but she ended on a groan: Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence “Gather round! Gather round! Can everybody see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent. In light of the dark events of recent weeks, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Duelling Club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves, as I myself have done on countless occasions. For full details, see my published works." He declared, as he removed his robes.

When Lockhart tossed his robes away, revealing the shirt and trousers he was wearing underneath, they were caught by a blushing Parvati Patil, whilst Hermione and Lavender watched with envy.

In the crowd of giggling girls, Chloe noticed a rather melancholy-looking Bridget Creevey. She hadn't seen much of Bridget lately, but she wasn't at all surprised by that. After what had happened to her little brother, the Potter girl felt really bad for her.

Chloe wanted to talk to Bridget and express her sympathy, but she decided against it since most Hufflepuffs seemed to be avoiding her.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape. He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry, you'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him. Never fear," said Lockhart. Ron leaned closer to Chloe. “Wouldn’t it be good if they finished each other off?” He muttered in her ear.

Snape’s upper lip was curling. Chloe wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at her like that, she'd feel glued to the spot.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed, with much twirling of Lockhart's hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

“As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position. On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.” Lockhart told the silent crowd. “I doubt that." Chloe murmured, as she watched Snape grit his teeth. “One.. two.. three-”

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape, whilst leaving a momentary pause between the two syllables, declared, “Expelliarmus!”

There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor. Draco Malfoy and various other Slytherins cheered and laughed.

Hermione, on the other hand, was dancing on tiptoes. “Do you think he’s all right?” She squealed through her fingers. “Who cares?” Ron questioned.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end. “Well, there you have it!” He said, tottering back onto the platform. “That was a Disarming Charm, as you see, I’ve lost my wand- ah, thank you, Miss Brown. Yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind me saying, it was pretty obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see.." He went on.

Snape was looking murderous. Lockhart noticed, since he said, “Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me-"

Lockhart and Snape moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley and then Daniel Page with Dean Thomas, but Snape reached Chloe and Ron. “Time to split up the dream team, I think. Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter-"

Chloe automatically moved towards Hermione, but Snape didn't seem to notice. "Miss Parkinson, let's see what you make of Potter. And you, Miss Granger - you can partner with Miss Bulstrode.”

Pansy Parkinson rolled her eyes and strode over to Chloe. Judging by the dismayed look she gave Daphne Greengrass, a blonde Slytherin girl, she would have preferred to be partnered up with her.

Behind Pansy walked Millicent Bulstrode, whose heavy jaw jutted aggressively. Hermione gave her a weak smile that she certainly did not return.

Pansy Parkinson was a tall and big-boned girl who, unlike Millicent, knew how to retain her composure. “Face your partners," called Lockhart, who stood back on the platform. "And bow!"

Everybody did as they were told, not taking their eyes off their partners.  “Wands at the ready! On the count three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent, only to disarm. We don't want any accidents here. One, two, three-" Lockhart shouted.

Wands were swung and spells were cast but clearly things were getting out of hand. Chloe and Pansy were fanning away the haze of greenish smoke covering the scene, both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting, Dean was helping up Daniel, whose nose dripped red, Ron was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus, quickly apologising for whatever damage his broken wand had inflicted on him; but Hermione and Millicent were still moving.

Millicent had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain; both their wands lay forgotten on the floor. Chloe leapt forward and pulled Millicent off. It was difficult since she was a lot bigger than she was.

“Dear, dear. Up you go, Macmillan. Careful there, Miss Fawcett. Pinch it hard, it’ll stop bleeding in a second, Page-" Lockhart said, as he skittered through, looking at the aftermath of the duels.

"Perhaps it would be prudent to first teach the students to block unfriendly spells," said Snape, which caused Lockhart's smile to fade, "Professor."

"An excellent suggestion, Professor Snape. Let's have a volunteer pair." Lockhart insisted, when his smirk returned. "Potter, Weasley, how about you?"

Chloe hesitated, whilst Ron grinned - duelling against her best friend sounded interesting but she was of the damage his broken wand could do.

"Weasley's wand causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending Potter to the Hospital Wing in a matchbox," said Snape, quickly.

Ron's ears went pink, whilst Chloe patted his shoulder and Slytherins snickered. "Might I suggest someone from my own house?" Snape asked.

Suddenly filled with trepidation, Chloe's eyes widened. Then, since she knew who Snape might suggest, she screwed her eyes shut, shook her head and murmured, "Not Malfoy, not Malfoy.."

Although Ron heard Chloe's subtle pleas, Snape didn't. "Malfoy, perhaps?" He asked Lockhart, which made Chloe sigh. "Crud." She muttered.

“Excellent idea,” said Lockhart, who gestured Chloe and Draco into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room. “Now, Chloe. When Draco points his wand at you," said Lockhart, before he raised his own wand, "you do this."

Lockhart attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action and dropped his wand. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up whilst muttering under his breath. Snape moved closer to Draco, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Draco smirked, too, whilst Chloe gulped a little.

Whilst Ron shot Draco a glare, Chloe looked up nervously at Lockhart. “Professor, would you mind showing me that blocking thing again?” She asked.

Lockhart cuffed Chloe merrily on the shoulder and confidently said, “Just do what I did, Chloe!”

“What, drop my wand?” Chloe questioned, then heard Ron snigger. But Lockhart wasn’t listening to them. "Wands at the ready!" He announced.

Stood just inches away from each other, Draco and Chloe each raised their wands. Draco smirked again. “Scared, Potter?” He asked Chloe, smugly. "You wish." She responded, with a similar smirk.

"On the count of three. One, two-" Lockhart counted. Chloe swung her wand high, but Draco had already started on 'two'. With his wand pointed straight at Chloe, he yelled, "Everte Statum!"

The spell hit Chloe so hard she felt as though she had been hit over the head with a saucepan. Wouldn't be the first time, she thought.

Hermione gasped when she, Ron and the rest of the class watched Chloe be blasted back across the hall. She stumbled to her feet, but everything still seemed to be working. She instantly pointed her wand at Draco and shouted, “Rictusempra!”

A jet of silver light hit Draco in the stomach and he doubled up. “I said disarm only!” Lockhart shouted, in alarm, over the heads of the battling crowd, as Draco wheezed and sank to his knees.

Chloe had hit the Malfoy boy with a Tickling Charm and he could barely move for laughing. Chloe hung back, knowing it would be wrong to bewitch Draco whilst he was on the floor. But that was a mistake.

Once Snape performed the countercurse to stop Draco's sporadic chortling, the boy got up, raised his wand quickly and bellowed, “Serpensortia!”

The end of Draco's wand exploded. Chloe watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

“Don’t move, Potter,” said Snape, upon noticing Chloe's panicked look, standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. “I’ll get rid of it for you."

“Allow me, Professor Snape,” shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake, before he confidently yelled, "Alarte Ascendare!"

There was a loud bang - the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward a terrified Bridget Creevey, who was standing in the middle of two other Hufflepuff students, Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley. The snake raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Chloe wasn't sure what made her do it. She wasn’t even aware of deciding to do it. All she knew was that her legs were carrying her forward as though she was on castors and that she had shouted stupidly at the enraged snake, “Leave her!”

And miraculously - inexplicably - the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Chloe. The Potter girl felt the fear drain out of her. She knew the snake wouldn’t attack anyone, but she couldn't explain how.

Chloe looked up at Bridget, with a smile, expecting to see the blonde girl looking relieved or puzzled or even grateful - but certainly not angry and scared.

“What was that?!” Bridget shouted, with her arms out in disbelief. Chloe's smile immediately faded.

"What are you playing at?!" Justin yelled, stood to Bridget's right, when Chloe didn't say anything. But before she could say anything, Bridget fled the hall.

Snape stepped forward, his eyebrows narrowed as he observed the confused-looking with intense inquisitiveness. Chloe turned to Hermione and Ron, expecting them to share her level of bewilderment, but was shocked to see their worried expressions.

"Vipera Evanesca," said Snape, when he got his wand out and aimed it at the snake. It promptly disappeared in a small puff of black smoke.

Everybody's eyes were fixed on Chloe, as she looked around and heard the faint whispers if various students. She didn't dare turn to Draco, since he would have a lot to say and snicker about.

An almost feverish took over Chloe's body, as her embarrassment blossomed. The girl couldn't understand why everybody except her looked so utterly horrified. She just stopped the snake from trying to attack Bridget. Why was that so terrible?

"Follow me, Potter," said Snape, still looking confounded. The soft and childish 'Ooh's that followed didn't make Chloe feel any better.

As she reluctantly stepped down, Chloe spotted Draco out of the corner of her eye. He, just like everybody else in the hall around them, was staring at her. But he seemed more astonished, instead of the terror that everybody else exhibited.

Chloe just shrugged at Draco, whilst she began to follow Snape out, since the boy was staring at her as though he was silently questioning what she had done. Upon suddenly realising that he was gaping, the Malfoy boy cleared his throat and directed his gaze to his friends before letting out a small scoff and jumping down from the long stage.

Still silent, Chloe followed Snape out. Ron and Hermione stepped forward to join their best friend but were silently told to remain with the rest of the class. As they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away from the girl as though they were frightened of catching something.

Chloe had no idea what was going on and Snape didn't speak a word to her, even as the two of them headed down to the frigid depths of the dungeons, until they reached his surprisingly spacious office.

Worried she'd get into trouble, Chloe was the first one to break the unpleasant silence. "Malfoy summoned the snake, he should be in way more trouble than me! And Lockhart didn't even teach us a proper disarming spell!" She pointed out, whilst she sat in a black chair and twiddled her fingers.

Snape just looked at Chloe, which immediately silenced her, before he sat down at his desk and said, "You're not in any trouble, Miss Potter."

For a second, Chloe hesitated. "Then.. what am I doing in here?" She asked, before she noticed Snape's look darken. "Sir.." She added, timidly, since she knew not addressing him as "sir" or "professor" was quite the abysmal mistake.

"You honestly have no idea, do you?" Snape asked. Chloe automatically shook her head. "It seems, Miss Potter, that you're a Parselmouth." He stated.

"A.. a what?" Chloe questioned. "A Parselmouth. It's a witch or wizard who possesses the ability to communicate with serpents in their language known as Parseltongue." Snape explained.

"I.. spoke a different language?" Chloe asked, as she gaped in surprise. "Well, I-I've talked to a boa constrictor at the zoo once. I sort of set it free by accident. But can't loads of people here do it?"

"No," said Snape, with a tenuous frown. "It's not a rare gift, and it's known to be entirely hereditary."

"Entirely what?" Chloe asked, puzzled. "Heredity. Passed down through a bloodline. But there's no denying that your parents couldn't speak Parseltongue." Snape tried to assure her.

But Chloe didn't feel too gratified - she had just found out she had an uncommon and supposedly genetic gift. To make matters worse, almost every student around her except her two best friends had become frightened or completely shocked by her.

"But," said Chloe, as she looked down at her flaccid hands resting upon her kneecaps, "how can I speak a different language without knowing that I can? And how am I able to if my family couldn't?"

"I couldn't tell you at the moment. However, I will be sure to discuss the events of the club with the headmaster." Snape acknowledged, then leaned over his desk. "But I must warn you, Potter, that Salazar Slytherin was a renowned Parselmouth."

"One of the Hogwarts founders?" Chloe asked. Snape nodded. "His proficiency in being able to speak to snakes the reason is why the symbol for Slytherin house is a serpent." He informed her.

Suddenly, the Sorting Hat wanting to sort Chloe into Slytherin was making so much sense to her. Could she possibly be related to Salazar Slytherin?

Snape watched as Chloe ran her right hand through her hair, with a nervous look. Right away, she itched at her scar which was hidden beneath several thick red curls. "It couldn't be.." She heard him mutter, under his breath, which caused her to look back at him in confusion. "Huh?" She asked.

Rather than respond right away, Snape got up from his desk. "Lockhart's Duelling Club should have come to an end now. You may head to your dormitory now. I need to have a word with Professor Dumbledore." He told Chloe, with his eyes fixed on the Slytherin crest on the wall.

Chloe nodded. "Yes, sir." She mumbled, then he got up from her chair. She never realised it before, since it had been her first encounter with Snape that didn't include anybody else - including Ron and Hermione, but it felt rather easy for formalities to slide when it was just the two of them. Although it was obvious that not a lot of other students liked Snape, he was, to Chloe, almost like a mentor.

Once Chloe left the chair, she turned to the door and began to walk out. But, with her hand on the office door and one question burning in her mind, she glanced over her shoulder at the Potions teacher. "Professor Snape?" She spoke up.

As soon as he heard her small voice again, Snape turned to Chloe. "Does it make a difference, being a Parselmouth? Is that why everyone was so surprised?" She questioned, apprehensively.

Snape hesitated. His dark eyes looked back at the small brown ones at the other side of his office. "No." He said. "It doesn't make any difference."

"Good," said Chloe, relaxing. It was clear she had been worrying. After a pause, she managed a small smile, one that Snape recognised all too well, then waved, walked out of his office and closed the door.

That night, Chloe lay awake for hours. Her conversation with Snape hardly lifted her spirits. Through a gap in the curtains around her four-poster she watched snow starting to drift past to tower window. Could she be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin? She didn’t know anything about her family, after all. The Dursleys had always forbidden questions about her wizarding relatives.

Quietly, Chloe tried to say something in Parseltongue. The word’s wouldn’t come. It seemed she had to face a snake to do it. But I’m in Gryffindor, she thought. The Sorting Hat wouldn’t have put me in here if I had Slytherin blood.

Ah, but the Sorting Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin, said a nasty little voice in her brain that almost made her shudder, don’t you remember?

When Hermione entered the dormitory, Chloe told her everything Snape said. She was just as shocked as Chloe. "He lived a thousand years ago. For all we know, you could be." She stated, upon hearing her panicking about being related to Slytherin.

Chloe turned over. She'd see Bridget Creevey the next day in Herbology and she would explain that she had been calling the snake off, not egging it on, which, she bitterly thought as she pummelled her pillow, any fool should have realised.

By next morning, however, the snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of the term was canceled: Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else, now that it was so important for the Mandrakes to grow quickly and revive Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey.

Chloe fretted about that next to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, while Ron and Hermione used their time to play a game of wizard chess.

“For heaven’s sake, Chloe,” said Hermione, exasperated, as one of Ron’s bishops wrestled her knight off his horse and dragged him off the board. “Go and find Bridget if it’s so important to you.”

So Chloe got up and left through the portrait hole, wondering where Bridget Creevey might be.

The castle was darker than it usually was in the daytime because of the thick, swirling grey snow at every window. Shivering, Chloe walked past classrooms where lessons were taking place, catching snatches of what was happening within.

Professor McGonagall was shouting at someone who, by the sound of it, had turned his friend into a badger. Resisting the urge to take a look, Chloe walked on by, thinking that Bridget might be using her free time to catch up on some work and deciding to check the library first.

A group of Hufflepuffs, who should have been in Herbology, were indeed sitting at the back of the library, but they didn’t seem to be working.

Between the long lines of high bookshelves, Chloe could see that their heads were close together and they were having what looked like an absorbing conversation. She couldn't see whether Bridget was among them. There was a blonde girl.

Chloe was walking towards them when something of what they were saying met her ears and she paused to listen, hidden in the Invisibility section.

“So anyway,” said Ernie Macmillan, a stout blonde boy, “I told Bridget to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter’s marked her down as his next victim, it’s best if she keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, she and Justin have been waiting for something like this to happen ever since they let slip to Potter that they're Muggle-borns. Justin actually told him he’d been down for Eton. That’s not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin’s heir on the loose, is it?”

Chloe recognised the girl sitting in front of Ernie as Hannah Abbott, the nice Hufflepuff girl who sat near her in Charms class. “You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?” She asked. “Hannah, she’s a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that’s the mark of a dark witch. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue.” Ernie stated, solemnly.

There was some heavy murmuring at this, and Ernie went on, “Remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir, Beware. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch’s cat’s attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know - Creevey’s been attacked. And now his sister's next - we just need to find out why."

“She always seems so sweet, though. Remember Flitwick's class? I could never have done so well last week without her advice. And, well, she’s the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. She can’t be all bad, can she?” Hannah asked, uncertainly.

Ernie lowered his voice, mysteriously. The Hufflepuffs bent closer and Chloe edged nearer so she could catch Ernie’s words. “No one knows how she survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, she was only a baby when it happened. She should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful dark witch could have survived a curse like that.” He told Hannah, matter-of-factly.

Chloe was hurt. At her Muggle primary school, at least the children gladly said what they thought about her to her face. To her, it was far more upsetting to hear children talking bad about her when they thought she wasn't able to hear them.

Then with his voice barely more than a whisper, Ernie said, “That’s probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill her in the first place. Didn’t want another Dark Lord competing with him. I wonder what other powers Potter’s been hiding?”

Chloe couldn’t take anymore. She stepped out from behind the bookshelves and the sight that greeted her was rather odd. Every one of the Hufflepuffs looked as though they had been Petrified by the sight of her and the colour was draining out of Ernie’s face. “Hello. Do you know where Bridget Creevey might be?" Chloe asked.

The Hufflepuffs’ worst fears had clearly been confirmed. They all looked fearfully at Ernie. “What do you want with her?” He asked, in a quavering voice. “I wanted to tell her what really happened with that snake at the Duelling Club,” said Chloe.

Ernie bit his lips and then, taking a deep breath, said, “We were all there. We saw what happened.”

“Then you all noticed the snake backing off after I told it to?” Chloe questioned, hopefully.

“All I saw was you speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake towards Bridget,” said Ernie, stubbornly, though he was trembling as he spoke.

“I didn’t chase it at her,” said Chloe, as her voice began to shake, "it didn’t even touch her!”

“It was a very near miss,” said Ernie. “And in case you’re getting ideas, I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks and my blood’s as pure as anyone’s, so-" He informed Chloe, hastily.

“I'm not interested in your blood status! Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns?” Chloe asked Ernie, in confusion. “I’ve heard you hate those Muggles you live with.” He answered, swiftly.

“It’s not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them,” said Chloe. “I’d like to see you try it.”

Before Ernie could respond, Chloe turned on her heels and stormed out of the library, earning herself a reproving glare from Madam Pince, who was polishing the gilded cover of a large spellbook.

Chloe blundered up the corridor, barely noticing where she was going, she was in such frustration. The result was that she walked into something very large and solid, which knocked her backwards onto the floor. “Oh, hi, Hagrid,” said Chloe, looking up.

Hagrid’s face was entirely hidden by a woolly, snow-covered balaclava, but it couldn’t possibly be anyone else, as he filled most of the corridor in his moleskin overcoat. A dead rooster was hanging from one of his massive, gloved hands. “All righ’, Chloe?” He said, pulling up the balaclava so he could speak. “Why aren’t yeh in class?”

“Canceled,” said Chloe, whilst she stumbled to her feet. “What are you doing in here?”

Hagrid held up the limp rooster. “Second one killed this term. It’s either foxes or a Blood-Suckin’ Bugbear, an; I need the headmaster’s permission ter put a charm around the hen coop.” He stated, then peered more closely at Chloe from under his thick, snow-flecked eyebrows. “Yeh sure yeh’re all righ’? Yeh look all hot an’ bothered-"

Chloe couldn’t bring herself to repeat what Ernie and the rest of the Hufflepuffs had been saying about her. “It’s nothing. Er, I’d better get going, Hagrid. It’s Transfiguration next and I’ve got to pick up my books. Bye!" She responded, then walked off, her mind still full of what Ernie said about her.

“Of course, she and Justin have been waiting for something like this to happen ever since they let slip to Potter that they're Muggle-borns.."

Chloe stamped up the stairs and turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane.

When Chloe was halfway down the passage, she tripped headlong over something lying on the floor. She turned to squint at what she had fallen over and felt as though her stomach had dissolved.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn’t all. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight Chloe had ever seen. It was Sir Nicholas, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin’s.

Chloe got to her feet, her breathing fast and shallow, her heart doing a kind of drumroll against her ribs. She looked wildly up and down the deserted corridor and saw a line of spiders scuttling as fast as they could away from the bodies. The only sounds were the muffled voices of teachers from the classes on either side.

Chloe could run and no one would ever know she had been there. But she couldn’t just leave them lying here. She had to get help. Would anyone believe she hadn’t had anything to do with it?

As Chloe stood there, almost hyperventilating, a door right next to her opened with a loud bang. Peeves the poltergeist had come shooting out.

“Why, it’s potty wee Potter,” cackled Peeves, knocking Chloe's glasses askew as he bounced by. “What’s Potter up to? Why’s Potter lurking-"

Peeves stopped, halfway through a midair somersault. Upside down, he spotted Justin and Sir Nicholas. He flipped the right way up, then filled his lungs and shrilly screamed, “ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!”

Crash - crash - crash - door after door flew open along the corridor and people flooded out, before Chloe could stop Peeves. For several long minutes, there was a scene of such confusion that Justin was in danger of being squashed and people kept standing in Sir Nicholas. Chloe found herself pinned against the wall as the teachers shouted for quiet. Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class, one of whom still had black and white striped hair. She used her wand to set off a loud bang, which restored silence and ordered everyone back into their classes.

No sooner had the scene cleared somewhat than Ernie the Hufflepuff arrived, panting, on the scene. “Caught in the act!” He yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Chloe.

“That will do, Macmillan,” said McGonagall sharply. Peeves was bobbing overhead, grinning wickedly, surveying the scene; Peeves always loved chaos.

As the teachers bent carefully over Justin and Sir Nicholas, examining them, Peeves broke into song.

“♪ Oh, Potter, you rotter,
Oh, what have you done,
You’re killing off students,
you think it’s good fun- ♪"

“That’s enough, Peeves,” barked McGonagall. Peeves zoomed away backwards, with his tongue out at Chloe. Justin was carried up to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick and Professor Aurora Sinistra of the Astronomy department, but nobody seemed to know what to do for Sir Nicholas.

In the end, Professor McGonagall conjured a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to Ernie with instructions to waft Sir Nicholas up the stairs.

Ernie did so, fanning Nick along like a silent black hovercraft. That left Chloe and McGonagall alone together. “This way, Potter.” She instructed.

“Professor.. I swear I didn’t-" Chloe said, at once. “This is out of my hands, Potter,” said McGonagall, curtly. They marched in silence around a corner and she stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle. “Sherbet lemon!” She announced.

That was evidently a password, because the gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two. Even full of dread for what was coming, Chloe couldn't fail to be amazed. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator. As she and McGonagall stepped onto it, Chloe heard the wall thud closed behind them.

They rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, Chloe saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin. Chloe knew where she was being taken. It must be where Dumbledore lived.

They stepped off the stone staircase at the top, and McGonagall rapped on the door. It opened silently and they entered. McGonagall told Chloe to wait, before she left the girl there alone.

Chlor looked around. One thing was certain: of all the teachers’ offices Chloe had visited so far this year, Dumbledore’s was by far the most interesting.

If she hadn't been scared out of her wits that she was about to be thrown out of school, Chloe would have been very pleased to have a chance to look around the room. It was large, beautiful and circular, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke.

The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tattered wizard’s hat that Chloe instantly recognised - the Sorting Hat.

Chloe hesitated. She cast a wary eye around the sleeping witches and wizards on the walls. Surely it couldn’t hurt if she took the hat down and tried it on again? Just to see.. just to make sure it had put her in the right house. She walked quietly around the desk, lifted the hat from it’s shelf, and lowered it slowly onto her head. It was much too large and slipped down over her eyes, just as it had done the last time she’d put it on. Chloe stared at the black inside of the hat, waiting. Then a small voice said in her ear said, “Bee in your bonnet, Potter?”

“Er, yes. I'm.. er.. sorry to bother you. I.. just- well, I wanted to ask-" Chloe murmured, timidly.

“You’ve been wondering whether I put you in the right house. Yes.. you were particularly difficult to place. But I stand by what I said last year. You would have done well in Slytherin-" The hat said.

Chloe's stomach plummeted. She grabbed the point of the hat and pulled it off. It hung limply in her hand, grubby and faded. Chloe pushed it back onto its shelf, feeling sick. “You’re wrong.” She informed the still and silent hat. It didn’t move.

Watching the hat, Chloe backed away. Then a strange gagging noise behind her quickly made her wheel around. The girl wasn’t alone after all.

Standing on a golden perch behind the door was a decrepit-looking red bird. Chloe stared at him and he looked balefully back, making its gagging noise again. Chloe thought that the bird looked very ill.

The bird's eyes were dull and a couple more feathers fell out of his tail. Despite it looking like a very ill and old bird, Chloe was gazed at it in fascination. She was certain he must have been such a beautiful bird when he was in his prime.

Looking at the small red feathers that had fallen off the bird, Chloe picked one up. It felt incredibly soft.

When Chloe looked back up at the red bird, he slowly began to bow his head, as though he was attempting to greet the girl. She smiled at him and was just thinking all she needed was for Dumbledore’s pet bird to die while she was alone in the office with him, when the bird burst into flames.

With a squeal of shock, Chloe backed away into the desk. She looked feverishly around in case there was a glass of water somewhere but couldn’t see one; the bird, meanwhile, had become a fireball; it gave one loud shriek and next second there was nothing but a smoldering pile of ash on the floor.

The office door opened, just as Chloe stared at the ashes in horror. Dumbledore had walked in. "Chloe?" He asked, looking very somber.

“Professor," gasped Chloe, "sir, your bird - there was nothing I could do. He.. he just caught fire."

To Chloe's astonishment, Dumbledore just smiled at her. "Oh, and about time, too. He’s been looking dreadful for days; I’ve been telling him to get a move on. Pity you had to see him on a burning day. He’s really very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage.” He informed her.

Although Chloe wanted to smile, she wasn't sure if it was appropriate or not. Dumbledore chuckled at the stunned look on her face. “Fawkes is a phoenix, Chloe. They burst into flames when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes."

As Dumbledore walked over to Chloe, she looked down at the ashes in time to see a tiny wrinkled newborn bird poke its head out of the ashes.

"Ah," cooed Dumbledore, as Fawkes chirped, "fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets.”

Chloe had been told, by Hermione that they would have Care of Magical Creatures classes in their third year and Chloe couldn't have been more excited for them. She let out a gasp of awe, as she gazed at the adorable baby phoenix with a smile.

In all the amazement, Chloe had forgotten what she was there for, but it all came back to her as Dumbledore settled himself in the high chair behind the desk and fixed Chloe with his penetrating, light-blue stare. Before Dumbledore could speak another word, however, the door of the office flew open with an almighty bang and Hagrid burst in, a wild look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on top of his shaggy black head and the dead rooster still swinging from his hand.

“Professor Dumbledore, sir, wait,” said Hagrid, urgently. “Listen! Professor Dumbledore, sir, it wasn' Chloe! I was talkin’ ter her seconds before that kid was found, she never had time, sir-"

Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on, waving the rooster around in his agitation, sending feather’s everywhere. “-it can’t’ve been her. In fact, I'd be prepared to swear it in front o’ the Ministry o’ Magic-" He insisted.

“Hagrid, I-” Dumbledore said. “-yeh’ve got the girl wrong, sir, I know Chloe never-" Hagrid stated.

“Hagrid!” Dumbledore interrupted, loudly. “Relax. I do not believe that Chloe attacked anyone.”

"Of course, you don't," said Hagrid, quickly, before realisation had set in. "Oh." He murmured, whilst the rooster had fallen limply at his side. “Oh, right, well, I'll, uhm- I'll just wait outside then." He added, after he awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, with a nod. And Hagrid stomped out of his office, looking embarrassed.

“You don’t think it was me, Professor?” Chloe repeated, hopefully, as Dumbledore brushed rooster feathers off his desk. “No, Chloe, I do not think it was you,” said Dumbledore, though his face was somber again. “But I still want to talk to you.”

Chloe waited nervously while Dumbledore considered her, the tips of his long fingers together. “I must ask you, Chloe, is something you wish to tell me? Anything at all?" He asked, gently.

Chloe didn’t know what to say. She thought of Draco shouting, “You’ll be next, Mudbloods!” and of the Polyjuice Potion simmering away in Myrtle’s bathroom. Then she thought of the disembodied voice she had heard twice and remembered what Ron had said: “Hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t a good sign, even in the wizarding world.” She thought, too, about what everyone was saying about her, and her growing dread that he was somehow connected with Salazar Slytherin.

“No, sir,” said Chloe, finally, "nothing."

Dumbledore just nodded at Chloe, thoughtfully. "Very well, then. Off you go." He told her. Chloe nodded back, before she turned around and left.

The double attack on Justin and Sir Nicholas turned what had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. Curiously, it was Nick’s fate that seemed to worry people the most. What could possible do that to a ghost? people asked each other; what terrible power could harm someone who was already dead? There was almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that students could go home for Christmas.

“At this rate, we’ll be the only ones left.” Ron told Chloe and Hermione. “Us, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. What a jolly holiday it’s going to be.”

Crabbe and Goyle, who always did whatever Draco did, had signed up to stay over the holidays, too.

But Chloe was glad that most people were leaving. She was tired of people skirting around her in the corridors, as though she were about to sprout fangs or spit poison; tired of all the muttering, pointing and hissing as she passed.

Fred and George found it all very funny. They went out of their way to march ahead of Chloe down the corridors, shouting, “Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil witch coming through.."

Percy was deeply disapproving of the twins' behavior. “It is not a laughing matter.” He informed them, coldly. “Oh, get out of the way, Percy. Chloe's in a hurry.” Fred replied, with a smirk. “Yeah, she’s off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with her fanged servant,” said George, chortling.

Ginny didn’t seem to find it very amusing, either. “Oh, don’t!" She wailed every time Fred loudly asked Chloe who she was planning to attack next, or whenever George pretended to ward Chloe off with a large clove of garlic when they met.

Chloe didn’t mind; it made her feel better that Fred and George, at least, thought the idea of her being Slytherin’s heir was quite ludicrous. But their antics seemed to be aggravating Draco, who looked increasingly sour each time he saw them at it.

“It’s because he’s bursting to say it’s really him. You know how he hates anyone beating him at anything, and you’re getting all the credit for his dirty work." Ron told Chloe, knowingly.

“Not for long,” said Hermione, in a satisfied tone. “The Polyjuice Potion’s nearly ready. We’ll be getting the truth out of him any day now."

At last the term ended, and a silence deep as the snow on the grounds descended on the castle.

Chloe found it peaceful, rather than gloomy, and enjoyed the fact that she, Hermione and the Weasleys had the run of Gryffindor Tower, which meant they could play Exploding Snap without bothering anyone, and practice duelling in private.

Fred, George and Ginny had chosen to stay at school rather than visit Bill in Egypt with their parents. Percy, who disapproved of what he termed their childish behavior, didn’t spend much time in the Gryffindor common room. He had told them pompously that he was only staying over Christmas because it was his duty as a prefect to support the teachers during this troubled time.

Christmas morning dawned, cold and white. Ron, the only one left in his dormitory, was woken very early by Chloe and Hermione, who burst in, fully dressed and with Hermione carrying presents.

“Wake up!” Hermione loudly said, pulling back the curtains at the window. “Hermione, Chloe, you’re not supposed to be in here-” said Ron, shielding his eyes against the light. “Merry Christmas to you, too,” said Hermione, tossing him his present.

“We’ve been up for nearly an hour, adding more lacewings to the potion. It’s ready," said Chloe.

Hermione shifted Scabbers the rat so that she could sit down on the end of Ron’s four-poster. “If we’re going to do it, I say it should be tonight.”

At that moment, Hedwig swooped into the room, carrying a very small package in her beak.

“Hello,” said Chloe, happily, as her snowy owl landed beside her. “Are you speaking to me again?”

Hedwig nibbled Chloe's ear in an affectionate way, which was a better present that the one that she had brought her, which turned out to be from the Dursleys. They sent Chloe a toothpick and a note telling her to find out whether she would be able to stay at Hogwarts for the summer vacation, too.

The rest of Chloe's Christmas presents were far more satisfactory. Hagrid had sent her a large tin of treacle fudge, which Chloe decided to soften by the fire before eating; Ron had given her a book called Flying with the Cannons, a book of interesting facts about Ron's favorite Quidditch team and Hermione had bought her a luxury eagle-feather quill.

Chloe opened the last present to find a new, hand-knitted jumper from Molly Weasley and a large plum cake. She read her card with a fresh surge of guilt, thinking about Arthur Weasley’s car (which hadn’t been seen since its crash with the Whomping Willow), and the bout of rule-breaking she, Hermione and Ron were planning next.

No one, not even someone dreading taking a Polyjuice Potion later, could fail to enjoy Christmas dinner at Hogwarts. The Great Hall looked magnificent. Not only were there a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. Dumbledore led them in a few of his favorite carols, Hagrid booming more and more loudly with every goblet of eggnog he consumed.

Percy, who hadn’t noticed that Fred had bewitched his prefect badge so that it now read “Pinhead,” kept asking them all what they were sniggering at. Chloe didn't even care that Draco Malfoy was making loud, snide remarks about her new blue jumper from the Slytherin table. With a bit of luck, Draco would soon be getting his comeuppance.

Chloe and Ron had barely finished their third helpings of Christmas pudding when Hermione ushered them out of the hall to finalise their plans for the evening. “We still need a bit of the people you’re changing into." She stated, matter-of-factly, as though she were sending Chloe and Ron to the supermarket for washing powder. “And obviously, it’ll be best if you can get something of Crabbe’s and Goyle’s: they’re Malfoy’s best friends, he’ll tell them anything. We also need to make sure that the real Crabbe and Goyle can't burst in on us while we're interrogating Malfoy." She pointed out.

Despite being disgusted by the fact that she would have to spend quite some time looking like a Slytherin boy, Chloe responded to Hermione's explanation with a small nod. "How?" Ron asked.

“I’ve got it all worked out,” said Hermione, who held up two chocolate cakes. “I filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. Simple but powerful. All you have to do is make sure Crabbe and Goyle find them. You know how greedy they are, they’re bound to eat them. Now, once they're asleep, hide them in the broomstick cupboard and pull out a few of their hairs, and put on their uniforms.”

Chloe and Ron looked incredulously at each other. "Whose hair are you ripping out then?" Ron asked Hermione, when he and Chloe turned back to her.

“I've already got mine,” said Hermione, pulling a tiny bottle out of her pocket with a single hair inside it. “Remember Millicent Bulstrode wrestling with me at the Duelling Club? She left this on my robes when she was trying to strangle me! And she's gone home for Christmas - so I’ll just have to tell the Slytherins I've decided to come back.”

Ron didn't look too confident. "I'm going to go check on the Polyjuice Potion. Make sure that Crabbe and Goyle find these," said Hermione, before she put the cakes down and bustled off.

Chloe noticed Ron's doom-laden expression. “Have you ever heard of a plan where so many things could go wrong?” He questioned, with a gulp.

But to Chloe and Ron’s utter amazement, the firststage of the operation went just as smoothly as Hermione had said. They lurked in the deserted entrance hall after Christmas tea, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle who were alone at the Slytherin table, both shoving down fourth helpings of trifle.

After Chloe had deposited the chocolate cakes upon the ground, Ron cleared his throat and raised his wand. "Er, Ron," said Chloe, which made her best friend turn to her, "per-perhaps I should do it."

Ron hesitated, then looked at his wand and nodded. "Yeah, right." He acknowledged, with a small frown, before slipped his wand away.

Raising her wand, Chloe aimed it at the cakes on the ground and whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa."

Chloe wasn't too sure if Crabbe or Goyle would accept two randomly levitating cakes, but it had to be done since they were just walking out of the Great Hall. Chloe and Ron swiftly hid behind a statue as Crabbe and Goyle walked into the corridor, their arms full of similar cakes.

Goyle gleefully pointed out the cakes to Crabbe and they promptly grabbed out of midair. The two of them then stuffed the cakes whole into their large mouths. For a moment, both of them chewed greedily, looks of triumph on their faces. Then, without the smallest change of expression, they both keeled over backwards onto the floor.

"How thick could you get?" Ron questioned, earning a snicker from Chloe - perhaps she had overestimated Crabbe and Goyle's intelligence.

By far the hardest part was hiding Crabbe and Goyle in the closet across the hall. Once they were safely stowed among the buckets and mops, Chloe yanked out a couple of the bristles on top of Goyle’s head and Ron pulled out several of Crabbe’s hairs.

Chloe and Ron also had to steal their shoes, because their own were far too small for Crabbe- and Goyle-size feet. Then, still stunned at what they had just done, they sprinted up to Myrtle’s bathroom. They could hardly see for the thick black smoke issuing from the stall in which Hermione was quickly stirring the cauldron.

Pulling their robes up over their faces, Chloe and Ron knocked softly on the door. “Hermione?”

The scrape of the lock was heard before Hermione emerged, shiny-faced and looking anxious.

Behind Hermione, the trio heard the gloop gloop of the bubbling, treacle-thick potion. Three glass tumblers were sitting ready on the toilet seat.

“Well, did you get the hairs?” Hermione asked, breathlessly. Chloe and Ron showed her the hairs.

Ron noticed two sets of folded clothes beside Hermione. "What are those?" He questioned.

"Slytherin robes," said Hermione, quickly. "I had to sneak them from the laundry. You’ll need bigger sizes once you’re Crabbe and Goyle.”

The Golden Trio stared into the cauldron. Close up, the potion looked like thick and dark mud, bubbling sluggishly. "I’m sure I’ve done everything right,” said Hermione, who nervously reread the splotched page of Moste Potente Potions. “It looks like the book says it should.. once we’ve drunk it, we’ll have exactly an hour before we change back into ourselves.” She informed Chloe and Ron.

“Now what?” Ron whispered. “We separate it into three glasses and add the hairs," said Hermione. She ladled large dollops of the potion into each of the glasses. Then, her hand trembling, she shook Millicent Bulstrode’s hair out of its bottle into the first glass. The potion hissed loudly like a bottling kettle and frothed madly. A second later, it had turned a sick sort of yellow. “Add yours, then.”

Chloe dropped Goyle’s hair into the glass next to Hermione’s and Ron added Crabbe’s to the last one. Both glasses hissed and frothed, at once.

The potion for Goyle had turned the khaki colour of a bogey and Crabbe’s a dark, murky brown.

“Urgh, essence of Crabbe," said Ron, eyeing his potion with loathing. "Bet it tastes disgusting."

“Hold on.” Chloe told Ron and Hermione, just as they both reached for their glasses. “We’d better not all drink them in here. Once we turn into Crabbe, Goyle and Millicent, we won’t fit."

“Good thinking,” said Ron, instantly unlocking the door. “We’ll take separate cubicles.” He suggested.

Careful not to spill her Polyjuice Potion, Chloe entered the middle cubicle. She kicked off her shoes and pulled off her robes. She would much rather change in the Slytherin clothes first, than do it in the body of a burly boy. She pulled on the spare robes, bent down, laced up Goyle’s boat-like shoes and stood up. “Ready?” She called.

“Ready,” came Ron and Hermione’s voices, right away. “One - two - three-” They all counted.

Pinching her nose, Chloe drank the potion down in two large gulps. It tasted like overcooked cabbage.

Immediately, Chloe's insides started writhing as though she had just swallowed live snakes.

Doubled up, Chloe wondered whether she was going to be sick. Then a burning sensation spread rapidly from her stomach to the very ends of her fingers and toes. Next, bringing her gasping to all fours, came a horrible melting feeling, as the skin all over her body bubbled like hot wax. And before her eyes, her hands began to grow, the fingers thickened, her nails broadened, the knuckles were bulging like bolts, her shoulders stretched painfully and the upwards brushing against her arms and shoulders told her that her red hair was getting shorter. Her chest expanded like a barrel bursting its hoops and her feet were getting much bigger.

As suddenly as it had started, everything stopped. Chloe lay facedown on the stone-cold floor, listening to Myrtle gurgling morosely in the end toilet. So this was what it felt like, being Goyle.

“Are you all okay?” Goyle’s low rasp of a voice issued from Chloe's mouth. “Yeah,” came the deep grunt of Crabbe from her right. Her large hand trembling, she unlocked her door and stepped in front of the cracked mirror. Goyle stared back at her out of dull eyes. Chloe rubbed her forehead, noticing the absence of her scar. So did Goyle.

Chloe wasn't too uncomfortable about spending an hour in boys' clothes, since she spent most of her Muggle life in Dudley's hand-me-downs, but spending an hour looking and sounding like a dimwitted boy was quite horrifying. If it meant getting answers out of Draco, then so be it.

Ron’s door opened. He and Chloe stared at each other. Except that he looked pale and shocked, Ron was indistinguishable from Crabbe, from the pudding-bowl haircut to the long, gorilla arms.

“Bloody hell,” said Ron, in shock, approaching the mirror and prodding Crabbe’s flat nose.

“We’d better get going,” said Chloe, before frantically loosening the watch that was starting to cut into Goyle’s thick wrist. “We’ve still got to find out where the Slytherin common room is. I only hope we can find someone to follow."

Ron was still gazing at Chloe. “You don’t know how bizarre it is to see Goyle thinking.” He commented, in astonishment. Chloe laughed, but stopped quickly at the sound of Goyle's wicked chuckle.

Ron banged his large fist on Hermione’s cubicle door. “C’mon, we need to go-" He urged.

“I.. I don’t think I’m going," said a high-pitched voice, suddenly, "You go on without me.”

“Hermione, we know Millicent Bulstrode’s ugly, no one’s going to know it’s you-" Ron quickly tried to assure Hermione. “No, really, I don’t think I’ll come." She told him and Chloe, insistently.

"Hermione, are you all right?" Chloe questioned. "Just go! You're wasting time," snapped Hermione.

Chloe looked at Ron, bewildered. “That looks more like Goyle. That’s how he looks every time a teacher asks him a question." He realised.

“We’ll meet you back here, all right?” Chloe asked Hermione, after she checked her watch. Five of their precious sixty minutes had already passed.

When Chloe and Ron carefully opened the bathroom door and checked the coast was clear, the two of them set off. Chloe turned to Ron and murmured, “Don’t swing your arms like that.”

“Eh?” Ron asked Chloe, in confusion. “Well, Crabbe always holds them sort of stiff.” She justified.

“How’s this?” Ron asked, as he pressed his arms to his sides. Chloe nodded and said, “Like Crabbe."

They went down the marble staircase. All they needed was a Slytherin they could follow to their Slytherin common room, but there was nobody around. “Erm.. any ideas?” Chloe whispered.

“The Slytherins always come up to breakfast from over there,” said Ron, nodding at the entrance to the dungeons. The words had barely left his mouth when a girl with curly blonde hair emerged from the entrance. “Excuse me,” said Ron, hurrying over. “We’ve forgotten the way to our common room.”

“I beg your pardon?” The girl asked, stiffly. Chloe had just noticed the blue and silver symbol on her robes. “Our common room? I’m a Ravenclaw.”

That girl was Penelope Clearwater, a Ravenclaw prefect. She walked away, looking suspiciously at the two Slytherin boys she saw. Chloe and Ron hurried down the stone steps into the darkness, their footsteps echoing particularly loudly as Crabbe and Goyle’s huge feet hit the floor, feeling that this wouldn't be as easy as they had hoped.

The labyrinthine passages were deserted. Chloe and Ron walked deeper and deeper under the school, constantly checking their watches to see how much time they had left. After about a quarter of an hour, just when they were getting desperate, they heard a sudden movement ahead. “Ha! There’s one of them now!” Ron said, excitedly.

The figure was emerging from a side room. As the two of them hurried nearer, however, their hearts sank. It wasn’t a Slytherin, it was Percy. “What’re you doing down here?” Ron asked, in surprise.

Percy looked affronted. “That is none of your business. It’s Crabbe, isn’t it?” He asked, stiffly.

“Wh- oh, yeah,” said Ron. “Well, get off to your dormitories,” said Percy, sternly. “It’s not safe to go wandering around dark corridors these days.”

“You are.” Ron pointed out. “I happen to be a prefect. Nothing’s about to attack me," said Percy, whilst he lifted his chin up in a pompous way.

"Crabbe, Goyle, where've you two been?"

A voice suddenly echoed behind Chloe and Ron. Draco Malfoy was strolling toward them, and for the first time in her life, Chloe was pleased to see him. "Pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I’ve been looking for you; I want to show you something really funny.” He explained.

When Draco reached who he and Percy both saw as his henchmen, he stared at 'Goyle' in confusion. "Why are you wearing glasses?" He questioned.

Ron, as Crabbe, looked panicked - Chloe had forgotten to take her glasses off. She was surprised they didn't break, after being forcefully introduced to Goyle's bulbous cranium. At the same time, she was thankful that Draco didn't manage to recognise the round black spectacles. She took them off and, in Goyle's voice, said, "Reading."

"Reading?" Draco asked, taken back, as Ron cringed behind him. Chloe felt equally embarrassed by her answer, but she nodded.

Draco narrowed his eyebrows at 'Goyle' - he clearly didn't expect that answer. Nevertheless, he shook his head a little and, sounding shocked and quite impressed, said, "I didn't know you could read."

Chloe quietly gulped, whilst Draco hummed and turned to Percy with a glare. “And what’re you doing down here, Weasley?” He sneered.

Percy looked outraged. “Mind your attitude, Malfoy. You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect!" He stated, through gritted teeth.

Draco sneered and motioned for Chloe and Ron to follow him. Chloe almost said something apologetic to Percy but caught herself just in time.

They hurried after Draco, who said as they turned into the next passage, “That Peter Weasley-"

“Percy.” Ron corrected, automatically.

“Whatever," said Draco, with a scoff. “I’ve noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he’s up to. He thinks he’s going to catch Slytherin’s heir single-handed.”

Whilst Draco just gave a short and derisive laugh, Chloe and Ron exchanged excited looks.

“What’s the new password again?” Draco asked Chloe, upon a stretch of bare and damp stone wall.

"Er-" Chloe responded, with uncertainty. “Oh, yeah, pure-blood,” said Draco, not listening. A stone door concealed in the wall slid open. Draco marched through it and Chloe and Ron followed him in.

The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs. “Wait here. I’ll go and get it. My father’s just sent it to me-" Draco told Chloe and Ron, motioning them to a pair of empty chairs set back from the fire. Wondering what Draco was going to show them, Chloe and Ron sat down, doing their best to look at home.

Draco came back a minute later, holding what looked like a newspaper clipping. He thrust it under Ron's nose and said, “That’ll give you a laugh."

Chloe saw Ron's eyes widened in chock. He read the clipping quickly, gave a very forced laugh and handed it to Chloe, who looked at it in complete shock. It had been clipped out of the Daily Prophet.

“Well?” said Draco, impatiently, when Chloe returned the clipping. “Don’t you think it’s funny?”

“Ha, ha,” said Chloe, bleakly. “Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them. You'd never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave. They're an embarrassment to the wizarding world, all of them!” Draco remarked, coldly.

Ron’s - or rather Crabbe’s - face was contorted with fury, as he clenched his large fists and glared at Draco. “What’s wrong with you, Crabbe?” He asked.

Chloe nudged Ron's arm and he looked at her, unclenched his fists and grunted, “Stomachache."

“Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me,” said Draco, snickering. “You know, I’m surprised that the Daily Prophet hasn't done a report all these attacks yet. I suppose Dumbledore’s trying to hush it all up. He’ll be sacked if it doesn’t stop soon. Father always said old Dumbledore’s the worst thing that ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns."

It was Chloe's turn to glare at Draco. "A decent headmaster would never’ve let slime like that Creevey boy in.” He thoughtfully said, then started taking pictures with an imaginary camera and did a cruel, but accurate, impression of Colin: “Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?”

"Shut up!" Draco heard 'Goyle' tell him, which caused him to lower his arms and stand up from the sofa. "What?! You think there's someone here who's worse than Creevey and Dumbledore?"

Ron quickly shook his head, whilst Chloe didn't respond. "Well, do you?" Draco asked, impatiently. "Chloe Potter?" Chloe asked, without thinking.

Chloe relaxed and Ron nodded, whilst Draco smirked smugly. "Good one, Goyle. You're absolutely right. Saint Potter! The Mudbloods’ friend. She's another one with no proper witch feeling, or she wouldn’t go around with that jumped-up Granger Mudblood. And people actually think that she's the heir of Slytherin?” He scoffed.

Chloe and Ron waited with bated breath: Draco was surely seconds away from telling them that it was him. But then- “I wish I knew who it is. I could help them." He told them, petulantly. Chloe and Ron’s jaws dropped so that Crabbe and Goyle looked even more clueless than usual.

Fortunately, Draco didn't notice. “You must have some idea who’s behind it all," said Chloe, quickly.

“You know I don't, Goyle, I told you yesterday. How many times do I have to tell you?” Draco asked, before he picked up a small green box with a thin silver ribbon on it. He shook the gift and a faint rattle was heard from within. "Is this yours?"

As soon as 'Goyle' shook his head, Draco didn't hesitate to slip the small green gift in the pocket of his robes for himself. “And Father won’t tell me anything about the last time the chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it’ll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing: last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So it’s only a matter of time before one of them is killed this time. As for me, I hope it’s Granger.” He revealed, with relish.

That tore it for Ron. He immediately got up and lunged at Draco. Feeling that it would be a bit of a giveaway if Ron punched him, Chloe stood up and grabbed him. As Goyle, she was a lot stronger: pulling Ron away from Draco certainly would have been far more difficult for her is she was herself.

"What's the matter with you two? You're acting very.. odd." Draco pointed out, in bewilderment.

"It's his stomach." Chloe lied, before she quickly turned to Ron and whispered, "Calm down."

Ron reluctantly sat back down, with clenched fists, as Chloe tried to think of a way to change the subject. “Do you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?” She asked.

“Oh, yeah.. whoever it was was expelled. They’re probably still in Azkaban.” Draco answered.

“Azkaban?” Chloe asked, puzzled. “Azkaban, the wizard prison, Goyle. Honestly, if you were any slower, you’d be going backwards," said Draco, in disbelief - Chloe, much to her surprise, found herself having difficulty trying not to snigger.

After Draco was finished shifting restlessly in his chair, he said, “Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he’s got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?”

Chloe tried to force Goyle’s dull face into a look of concern. “Yeah. Luckily, they didn’t find much. Father’s got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we’ve got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor-" Draco replied.

“Ho!” Ron exclaimed. Draco looked at him and so did Chloe. Ron blushed. Even his hair was turning red. His nose was also gradually lengthening.

The sixty minutes was up, Ron was turning back into himself and, judging from the look of horror he was suddenly giving Chloe, she must have been, too. The two of them jumped to their feet, at once.

"Hey, where are you going?" Draco called, puzzled. “Medicine for my stomach,” grunted Ron.

And, without further ado, he and Chloe sprinted the length of the Slytherin common room, hurled themselves at the stone wall, and dashed up the passage, Chloe could feel her feet slipping around in Goyle’s huge shoes and was shrinking so much that her robes were dragging on the floor behind her; they crashed up the steps into the dark entrance hall, which was full of a muffled pounding coming from the closet where they had locked Crabbe and Goyle. Leaving their shoes outside the closet door, they sprinted in their socks up the marble staircase toward Myrtle’s bathroom.

"That was close," gasped Chloe, with a hand on her stitched chest. “Too close, but it wasn’t a complete waste of time. I know we still haven’t found out who’s doing the attacks, but I’m going to write to Dad tomorrow and tell him to check under the Malfoys’ drawing room.” Ron panted, before he closed the bathroom door behind them.

Chloe checked her face in the cracked mirror. She was back to normal. She put her glasses back on, as Ron hammered on the door of Hermione’s stall. “Hermione, come out, we’ve got loads to tell you!"

“Go away!” Hermione squeaked. Chloe and Ron looked at each other. “What’s the matter? You must be back to normal by now, we are-" Ron realised.

But Myrtle glided suddenly through the stall door. She had never been seen looking so happy. “Ooooooh, wait 'til you see. It’s awful!" She giggled.

The lock was heard sliding back and Hermione emerged, sobbing with her robes pulled up over her head. “What’s wrong? Have you still got Millicent’s nose or something?” Chloe asked.

Hermione let her robes fall and Chloe's eyes widened. Her face was covered in brown fur. Her eyes had turned yellow and there were long, pointed ears poking through her hair.

“Hermione, what happened?” Chloe asked, worriedly. “It was a c-cat hair! M-Millicent Bulstrode m-must have a cat! And the p-potion isn’t supposed to be used for animal transformations!” Hermione wailed. Chloe frowned at her, sympathetically. “Uh-oh.” Ron responded.

“You’ll be teased something dreadful,” said Myrtle, happily. “It’s going to be okay, Hermione. We’ll take you up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions." Chloe replied, quickly.

It took a long time to persuade Hermione to leave the bathroom. Myrtle sped them on their way with a hearty guffaw. “Wait 'til everyone finds out you’ve got a tail!” She gleefully teased, on the way out.

Question Of The Chapter!
What moments during Prisoner of Azkaban are you most looking forward to reading?
My Answer: Buckbeak!
Your Answer?