Harry Potter 02 - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Slytherin’s true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?’
    ‘Nonsense, O’Flaherty,’ said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. ‘If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven’t found the thing –’
    ‘But, Professor,’ piped up Parvati Patil, ‘you’d probably have to use Dark Magic to open it –’
    ‘Just because a wizard doesn’t use Dark Magic, doesn’t mean he can’t, Miss Pennyfeather,’ snapped Professor Binns. ‘I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore –’
    ‘But maybe you’ve got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn’t –’ began Dean Thomas, but Professor Binns had had enough.
    ‘That will do,’ he said sharply. ‘It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to history , to solid, believable, verifiable fact !’
    And within five minutes, the class had sunk back into its usual torpor.
    *
    ‘I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony,’ Ron told Harry and Hermione, as they fought their way through the teeming corridors at the end of the lesson to drop off their bags before dinner. ‘But I never knew he started all this pure-blood stuff. I wouldn’t be in his house if you paid me. Honestly, if the Sorting Hat had tried to put me in Slytherin, I’d’ve got the train straight back home …’
    Hermione nodded fervently, but Harry didn’t say anything. His stomach had just dropped unpleasantly.
    Harry had never told Ron and Hermione that the Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting him in Slytherin. He could remember, as though it was yesterday, the small voice that had spoken in his ear when he’d placed the Hat on his head a year before.
    ‘You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin would help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that …’
    But Harry, who had already heard of Slytherin house’s reputation for turning out dark wizards, had thought desperately, ‘Not Slytherin!’ and the Hat had said, ‘Oh, well, if you’re sure … better be Gryffindor …’
    As they were shunted along in the throng, Colin Creevey went past.
    ‘Hiya, Harry!’
    ‘Hullo, Colin,’ said Harry automatically.
    ‘Harry – Harry – a boy in my class has been saying you’re –’
    But Colin was so small he couldn’t fight against the tide of people bearing him towards the Great Hall; they heard him squeak, ‘See you, Harry!’ and he was gone.
    ‘What’s a boy in his class saying about you?’ Hermione wondered.
    ‘That I’m Slytherin’s heir, I expect,’ said Harry, his stomach dropping another inch or so, as he suddenly remembered the way Justin Finch-Fletchley had run away from him at lunchtime.
    ‘People here’ll believe anything,’ said Ron in disgust.
    The crowd thinned and they were able to climb the next staircase without difficulty.
    ‘D’you really think there’s a Chamber of Secrets?’ Ron asked Hermione.
    ‘I don’t know,’ she said, frowning. ‘Dumbledore couldn’t cure Mrs Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be – well – human.’
    As she spoke, they turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened. They stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message ‘The Chamber has been opened.’
    ‘That’s where Filch has been keeping guard,’ Ron muttered.
    They looked at each other. The corridor was deserted.
    ‘Can’t hurt to have a poke around,’ said Harry, dropping his bag and getting to his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues.
    ‘Scorch marks!’ he said. ‘Here – and here –’
    ‘Come and look at this!’ said Hermione. ‘This is funny …’
    Harry got up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack in the glass. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.
    ‘Have you ever seen spiders act like that?’ said Hermione wonderingly.
    ‘No,’ said Harry, ‘have you, Ron? Ron?’
    He looked over his