“Trophy Duty with Filch?! He'll have me in there all night, there are about a hundred trophies in there...!” Ron whined as they sat down.

“I'd trade any day...” Megan sighed heavily as she sat down too. “I practised with the Dursleys. Answering Lockhart's mail is bad enough but having him gloat all night... ugh! A real nightmare...”

After lunch, Megan saw Cedric waiting for her.

“I saw you talking with McGonagall, you in trouble?” he asked.

“Just atoning for the Willow incident,” she sighed.

He smiled sympathetically.

“How bad?”

“Ron's with Filch cleaning trophies, which I'd have done gladly... but I'm stuck with Lockhart to help him answer his stupid fan mail...”

He let out little repulsion hiss.

“Yikes. I see what you mean. Seems harsh even for McGonagall.”

“It wasn't her idea. I don't think she likes him that much either, but apparently, he insisted on having me...”

She sighed.

“I'd almost wish I could go back to the Forbidden forest...”

He raised his eyebrows. The forest was far more dangerous than a poor teacher.

“What does he do to you to earn such dislike?” Cedric asked.

“He acts so high and mighty, thinking he knows me so well, and that I'm doing everything to be like him, which by the way, I absolutely am not... Ha... ”

The bell rang.

“Sorry I can't do much to help.”

“I appreciate that you want to,” she smiled sadly. “But I wouldn't want you to get into trouble. I better go, I have class...”

“Yeah, so do I. Later, then.”

“Hopefully, if I survive tonight...” Megan smiled.

All in all, it was a not so long afternoon. And soon it was five to eight. Dragging her feet (though still insanely gracefully), Megan reached Lockhart's office.

“Ah, here's our young scoundrel!” he said cheerfully as she came in.

“Evening,” she said, slightly more curtly than she would have any other teacher.

It was even worse than Megan had feared. Countless photos of his annoying grin, and just as many envelopes.

“You can do the envelopes, Megan.”

Megan fought hard to resist the “Sure, whatever” that burned her lips and sat down in silence. She took the list she saw by the envelopes and set to work. And all the time she was there, Gilderoy never stopped talking about himself. Megan pretended to be interested with occasional “yes, sir” and “hm hm”, and rarely caught what he said. She only heard a “Fame is a fickled friend, Megan, remember that”, or a “Of course, I knew all along,” here and there.

Megan's hand was hurting as she continued addressing envelopes. She was starting to feel tired, too. It had been dark outside for what felt like forever, and all the candles were well into their last few inches. Surely they had to end it soon?

Let it be time soon... she pleaded to herself. Let it be nearly over...

She sighed quietly and looked out the window. The sky was a perfect midnight blue, with stars galore, and the moon gleaming brightly. She felt herself flush and her heart race slightly as she thought of herself and Cedric watching such a sight together... then he would put his arm around her, she'd rest her head on his shoulder, he'd reach over and their lips would meet...

Come... come to me... let me rip... let me tear... let me kill...!

Megan's head snapped up. She had heard something that sent ice running through her. It was a voice, but it had nothing human about it. It was like a low hiss... She jumped up so suddenly she knocked her ink bottle over, and the floor was stained in lilac.

“What?” she gasped.

“I know, six months best-seller, a record!” Lockhart was saying.

“Not that!” Megan said exasperatedly. “The voice!”

Lockhart's smile faded slightly.

“What are you talking about? What voice?”

“You didn't hear it just now?”

Lockhart cleared his throat uneasily.

“I think you must be getting drowsy, Megan. And great Scott, look at the time, we've been here nearly four hours, it's no wonder! I think you've paid your debt, Megan. You can go back to you your dormitory.”

Megan wasn't listening. She was trying to hear the voice again. But nothing. Still unsettled, she left with a brief “Night, professor” and headed back to Gryffindor Tower.

On the way to Gryffindor Tower, Megan had to cross the floor that went past Filch's office. She just turned into the hall it was located in when she stopped. His light was on.

Drat! Megan said to herself. I don't know any other way.

“What are you doing up at this hour?”

Megan almost screamed. She gasped and whipped around.

“Oh... Nick! Hi,” she whispered. “I was in detention for the flying car episode,” she answered.

“Mrs Norris is patrolling,” he said. “And you don't want to try and outsmart Filch, he's in a bad mood. Best go that way and show him your detention note.”

“I guess so...”

“Well, you'd better head off to bed, young lady,” he added. “Good night to you.”

“Night, Nick."

He floated away and Megan turned back to the corridor. Just then, she paused.

“Nick, can I ask you something?”

He turned round.

“Of course.”

“... A few minutes ago... did you hear anything? Like... like a voice? Low, not very friendly...?”

“I can't say that I have,” he said. “Why d'you ask?”

“Oh... just wondering. Night, Nick.”

She stepped quietly forwards, wishing she had her invisibility cloak.

“Oi! Student out of bed! I'll have you for this!”

He jumped out of his chair, forgetting he was holding a piece of parchment, that flew out of his hands and landed at Megan's feet. She thoughtlessly glanced at it and read:

Quickspell!

Ashamed by your weak magical skills? Afraid to be ridiculed in public? No longer! Quickspell provides efficient and durable solutions! Sign up now for private tuition at your own pace!

Filch yanked it up off the floor and tucked it in his coat.

“You didn't read?” he asked.

“N-No,” she lied immediately. “Er... this is why I was out.”

She lifted the note. He gave it a quick glance and said:

“Fine, go, go!”

Too happy to oblige, Megan walked deftly off, her head buzzing.

By the time she reached the common room it was almost empty. Harry, who had gotten up to shake off a dream, told her Ron hadn't come back. Megan thought for a moment of telling him about the voice. But two things held her back. First, she was tired and doubted either of them wanted to sleep with that kind of thing in their head. It was better that she was the only one. Second, and even though she gave little credit to what Lockhart said, the fact that he hadn't heard the voice made her doubt that she had heard anything. She bid him goodnight and sat in a chair by the fire to think. Was that voice real? And if it was, why was she the only one who could hear it? Ron came in about half an hour after Megan had returned, rubbing his arm.

“I'm beat...” he said. “Hey, you okay? You look a bit worried.”

“I'll tell you in the morning. I wouldn't want you to sleep with that under your pillow,” she said, managing a smile.

“'Kay. Speaking of pillows, mine's calling me... Good night.”

“Night, Ron.”

He climbed up the stairs and disappeared into his dormitory. Megan sighed and looked into the fire.

Next morning, Megan saw Hedwig return. And she had a letter.

“Hi, Hedwig. Thanks for the delivery.”

She handed her a piece of bacon. The owl nipped her finger gently, hooted in appreciation and floated off.

“What's that?” Ron asked.

“Oh, uh... I sent a letter to your Mum. I wanted to see whether your Dad got into any trouble or not.”

He seemed surprised but said nothing. Megan breathed in an opened the letter.

Dear Megan.

Thank you for your letter. And not to worry, they'll probably let him off with a warning. You were only seen by a few people, and you're both under-age, so a few memory charms did the trick. He's got a bit of overtime though but he's used to that.

You were still reckless. You could have been killed! But, I know how Hogwarts can feel comfortable and like home, especially when, like you, the Muggle part of the family isn't too keen on knowing you're a witch.

Of course, I'm not angry at Ron any more. I raised him, he wouldn't have done what he did without a good reason. I was just so scared for the both of you. You see, you are just as much a part of the family as Ron. And if you ever need to talk, I'm here.

Megan felt her throat tighten with emotion. She had never thought Molly felt that way. But she was thoroughly more of a motherly figure than Petunia Dursley could be in a lifetime.

I understand from Fred and George you have your first Quidditch match soon? Best of luck, dear. I know you'll do fine.

Yours sincerely, Molly Weasley.

Megan put the letter away, reassured but still a little guilty.

October arrived, and with it, an epidemic of colds among teachers and students alike. But thanks to Madam Pomfrey's Pepper-up potion, they were back to health in no time. Rain came down heavy and persistent, yet Megan's Quidditch practice hadn't decreased. She didn't mind it, to be honest. It avoided her thinking about the voice she had heard, even if they were often drenched and cold for hours after practice. And Megan, after a particularly long and nastily wet training session, was caught by the cold too. She woke up with a thick throat, head ache and runny nose. Hermione had to escort her at once to the Hospital wing, and she was forced to be excused from classes for the day. During break, the others popped by to check on her, and when they'd left, Cedric came in too.

“Hey, Cedric!” she said, smiling, though surprised.

“Hi, I saw you weren't there at breakfast, and Hermione told me you had taken ill.”

He came towards her.

“I wouldn't come too close,” she warned in a croaky voice. “I wouldn't want you to get whatever I caught...”

“I'm not surprised you're sick,” he said sympathetically. “I heard Wood was training you to the bone in the rain.”

“Yeah... isn't your captain doing the same?”

“Well, not for as long. So, how you feeling?”

“Ugh... about as bad as I look,” she said.

“You don't look so bad,” he smiled. “Just a little pale and tired-looking.”

“You're just saying that,” she smiled back.

The bell rang the end of break.

“Go, you'll be late,” she said.

“Yeah. And Snape hates tardiness. Well, I hope you get better soon,” he said and went off.

“Bye, and thanks for stopping by.”

“Any time,” he smiled.

So, all in all, the month went quite quickly, and soon, it was the day of the Halloween Feast.

That day, even without the rain and wind, practice hadn't been brilliant. Fred and George had done a little spying on the Slytherins. And their report was not very reassuring.

“They go faster than we can follow them,” George had told them.

“As good as Megan is, she can't go faster than her broom...” Fred had said.

And Megan had to agree. She had no idea how they were going to win if their broom speed was so uneven... talent was good, but good equipment was helpful too... She was about to go inside when she saw Filch scolding a Ravenclaw for having left a little mud on the floor.

“You better go in somewhere else,” said Peeves, hovering above her. “Filchy's angry, he is. Not had a good day!”

Just then, without warning, he dropped a large water bomb on her head. Luckily, Filch had gone. Megan coughed and spluttered, water and mud dripping everywhere.

“What was that for?” Megan asked irritably.

“All wet already, isn't you?”

“Get out, Peeves!” Ordered a voice. “Or I'll get the Bloody Baron!”

Cedric appeared. Peeves stuck his tongue at him and popped out of sight. Cedric looked at Megan and resisted the urge to laugh.

“Go on, you can laugh,” Megan said, shaking her wrists. “It's not like I was going to get any wetter.”

She was smiling, but she was a little embarrassed that he would see her like this, with her wet hair, muddy jeans, and soaked robes... Muffling a laugh, he said:

“Here, let me help.”

He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Megan.

“Scourgify!”

A wave of warmth flowed through Megan. Looking down, she saw her robes were dry and the mud had disappeared.

“Thanks,” she said, as he tended to the floor. “I'll have to remember that one.”

“You're welcome. Are you headed to the feast?”

“I just need to change into my robes, but yes.”

“Do you mind an escort?”

“No, not at all. The others are waiting for me up there.”

They walked together up the stairs to Gryffindor. At the last turn, he stopped.

“I'll wait here, so I don't hear your password,” he said.

She nodded and went on.

“There you are, you okay? Wow, no mud?”

“I'm okay. Just starving. As for my clothes, I ran into Cedric, he helped me out. Filch would have had my neck if I'd left any dirt inside.”

“Yeah, he's in a bad mood all right,” Ron said. “Ready to go?”

“I just need to put my broom away and change, be right back.”

Once she had changed, she braided her hair and headed back down. She and the others then went out the portrait hole and joined Cedric who had come out to wait for them. And Megan was glad not to be muddy any more.

“Hi, Cedric,” the others greeted him.

“Hello,” he said. “Shall we?”

They walked down together. But as they were reaching the landing of the seventh floor when Megan froze. There it was again. The voice was back.

Let me rip... Rip.. tear... kill...

“That voice again...” she gasped.

“Voice?” Harry asked.

“Is that what you were thinking about that night after detention?” Ron asked.

She had wanted to tell him but had been so busy with her classes, that seemed twice as hard as the previous year, and hadn't had time, and basically, they had forgotten about it.

“Yes,” she said, listening. “Listen!”

It was growing fainter. She thought it was going downwards. She ran down the stairs, following the whispers. It was the same cold, eerie voice. And if no one else could hear it, it couldn't be a prank.

“Megan, where are you going?!” Hermione asked, as they darted after her.

“It's going this way! Don't you hear it?”

She didn't listen for their answer. She hurried down, her friends close behind her.

Rip... tear... kill... kill... blood... spill... I smell... blood...

“It's going to kill someone!”

She ran even faster.

“Megan, wait!” Cedric said.

She wasn't listening. All she could think about was that someone was about to be killed and that she had to do what she could to stop it.

She suddenly froze and stopped, holding an arm to stop the others.

“Megan, what in the world is going on?” Ron asked. “I heard nothing!”

“Look...” Megan whispered pointing.

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand.

“Mrs. Norris...” she stammered.

There, on a torch bracket, hanging by the tail and frozen as if made of stone, was Filch's cat.

“Everyone, look on the wall!” Cedric gasped.

There, written in red on the wall, the letters still glistening, was a message. It said

The Chamber of Secrets has been opened.

Enemies of the heir beware

“Is that...” Hermione asked in a tiny voice.

Megan stepped forwards and touched it. It was still wet and a patch of red came on her fingers.

“Yes...” she said. “It's blood...”

Hermione buried herself in Ron's shoulder, who put his arms protectively around her. Megan backed away. Cedric put a hand on her shoulder. She spun around and they held each other tight, as if worried something would harm the other if they let go. They exchanged scared looks.

“What should we do...? We can't just leave it like this...”

“We shouldn't stay here...” Harry said suddenly.

“Too late,” said Cedric.

They heard the bustle indicating the end of the feast. Barely minutes later, a hoard of students came in from every corner.

“Oh, no...”

There were gasps as people noticed the cat on the wall. Megan, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Cedric were standing alone in the middle of the now deadly silent corridor. Silently but surely, people were pushing each other to get a look.

“Enemies of the heir beware? You'll be next, mudbloods.”

Looking around, they saw Draco Malfoy. He had spoken those terrible words. Ron was about to throw himself onto him but Cedric and Harry stopped him.

“We're already suspicious enough,” Megan whispered. “Don't make things worse.”

Just then, Filch arrived.

“What's going on, here, come on, make way, move!”

He pushed through the rows of students and came into the open. And his eyes bulged.

“Mrs... Norris?”

He stepped forwards.

“My cat...! My cat!”

He turned to the first person in sight. Megan. She quickly moved from Cedric to avoid him further trouble.

“You... murdered my cat!”

He advanced upon her. Cedric held out an arm in front of her and they stepped backwards. Filch's eyes were wide with fury and pain.

“I'll kill you...! I'll kill you!”

“You'll do no such thing, Argus,” said Dumbledore's voice firmly.

Megan felt Cedric' arms around her and let herself lean against him. She hated getting him involved in this mess but she was glad he was there. She turned to look up at Dumbledore, who had arrived with several teachers. He didn't look at her. He was examining Mrs Norris, whom he had unhooked. Then, he turned to the five of them.

“You come with me. And you, Argus. As for the rest of you,” he added in a louder voice, “since the feast is over, you will please return to your dormitories.”

“My office is nearest, Headmaster,” Lockhart piped up.

“Thank you, Gilderoy.”

The group stepped back to let him through, the other teachers close behind. Megan followed and felt a strong hand around hers. She looked into Cedric's eyes. Then, they looked ahead and walked on.

Lockhart's office was fitted to match his enormous ego. Pictures of him everywhere.

“Can't afford a mirror...?” Ron muttered to Harry behind Megan.

He nudged him to keep him quiet. Dumbledore sat at the desk and lay Mrs Norris on it while McGonagall stood beside him and conjured chairs for the five of them and Filch. Cedric immediately stood in between Megan and Filch, while the others sat on the remaining chairs. Dumbledore examined the cat silently, Lockkhart hovering over him.

“A spell, no doubt... so unfortunate I wasn't there, I know exactly the counter curse that could have saved her...” he was saying.

Filch was sobbing miserably. Even though he had vowed her death and been generally unpleasant all the time she'd spent at Hogwarts, Megan felt sorry for him. She thought of Mira and what she would have felt in his shoes. But she was also a little scared. If Dumbledore believed him, she would be expelled for sure. But that didn't seem to be planned for the moment. The Headmaster was murmuring, his wand moving around Mrs Norris; touching her occasionally. But nothing seemed to work.

“I have seen something similar in Ouagadougou,” Lockhart said, still hovering above Dumbledore. “A series of attacks. A load of amulets soon solved the problem...”

Finally, the Headmaster straightened up.

“Argus, she is not dead. She has been petrified.”

“Petrified...?”

“Just as I suspected, of course,” Lockhart's voice said.

“Yes. By who and how, however I have no idea.”

“Ask her!” he spat, pointing at Megan. “She's the one who's done it!”

“Megan wouldn't hurt a fly!” Hermione said.

Dumbledore raised a hand.

“No second-year student could do this, Argus.”

“She did, she did! You saw what she wrote on that wall! She knows the truth!”

“What truth, Filch?” McGonagall asked.

“That... She knows that I'm a Squib!” he squealed.

“I never touched Mrs Norris!” Megan defended herself. “And I wouldn't even know what a Squib is!”

“Lies! Filfthy, stinking lies, the lot of it! She saw my letter!”

“That will do, Argus,” Dumbledore said calmly.

“If I may, Headmaster,” Snape interjected coolly. “Maybe we are jumping too quickly to conclusions? Perhaps they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

Megan glanced at him, astounded. Snape was defending her? He had saved her life the year before but...

“However.” he went on.

Here we go... I thought it was too good... she muttered to herself.

“There are reasons to suspect you. For instance, why were you up here, in an empty corridor while everyone else was at the feast?”

“I was at Quidditch practice,” Megan said. “I finished a little late because I wanted to work on a strategy. The others...”

“We were waiting for Megan,” Harry said.

“And I ran into her near the Entrance Hall,” Cedric said.

“Peeves saw Cedric and me by the entrance,” Megan added. “You can ask him.”

“Why didn't you head to the feast?” Snape asked.

“Well... we were on our way, when...”

Megan hesitated. They would never believe her voice story...

“I felt sick,” she said. “And they were accompanying me.”

“You didn't want any dinner?” Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.

“”I was afraid I'd throw it up and insult the cooks,” she said.

“How considerate. But you're better, now?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“And your friends?”

“Weren't hungry.” Harry said.

His stomach growled.

“I believe they aren't telling all they know, Headmaster,” Snape said, turning to Dumbledore, “and the others are clearly covering for her. I suggest suspension from their respective Quidditch teams until they reveal their secrets."

“Come now, Severus, that's ridiculous, there is no reason to do that. Besides you know their records as well as I, there is no reason to believe any of them have done anything wrong.”

Megan glanced at Dumbledore who was looking at her. She felt like being X-rayed.

“Innocent until proven guilty, Severus,” he said.

Snape and Filch looked beside themselves.

“My cat's been petrified!” the caretaker screamed. “I want to see some punishment!”

“We can cure her, Argus,” he said calmly. “Professor Sprout has managed to obtain mandrake plants. Soon, they will grow and be usable for the antidote.”

“I'll do the potion, Headmaster”, Lockhart said. “Done it a hundred times.”

“Excuse me,” Snape cut in icily. “But I am the Potions master, I believe.”

There was a silence.

“Of course,” Lockhart said, a wide smile on his face. “Far from me the wish to be out of my place, Severus...”

“Thank you, Gilderoy.” McGonagall interrupted. “You may go,” she added to Megan and the others.

They left as fast as politeness allowed. They reached the separation point to go to their houses.

“Thanks for being there, Cedric,” she said, as she hugged him goodnight.

“No problem. You get some rest, okay?”

They parted.

“D'you think I should have told them about the voice?” she asked.

“No,” Ron said.

“But... you believe me...?”

“Yes, sure. But... it's weird.”

“I know it is... and what does that mean, 'the chamber of secrets has been opened...'? What's that about?”

“I don't know, but Megan... even in the wizarding world, hearing voices isn't a good sign...” Hermione said.

“It sort of rings a bell,” Ron said. “I think maybe one of my brothers told me about a secret chamber at Hogwarts.”

Megan sighed.

“And what's a Squib?”

“Oh, that,” Harry said, and he and Ron muffled a laugh. “Well, it's not really funny. It's sort of the opposite of a Muggle-born.”

“So... He has wizard parents but no magic in him?”

“Yes, that's it. But they're quite rare. So it's no wonder he wanted to learn magic in secret. And it explains why he's so unpleasant to students, for example. He's jealous.”

“Yes, I guess that's possible... It's late,” Megan said, checking her watch. “C'mon, if Snape sees us he'll look for any excuse to punish us.”