ACT II — CHAPTER XIV
Tʜᴇ Cʜᴀᴍʙᴇʀ Oꜰ Sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛs

⊱ ────── 𖥔 ✶ 𖥔 ────── ⊰

"All those times we were in the bathroom, and she was just three toilets away," Ron said bitterly at breakfast the next day, "and we could've asked her, and now ..."

It had been hard enough to look for the spiders. Escaping their teachers long enough to sneak into the girls' bathroom right next to the scene of the first attack was going to be impossible, especially with Quinn being in a different house from Harry and Ron.

Luckily, Quinn was met with a welcome distraction in Charms class, one that drove all thoughts of the Chamber of Secrets out of her mind, if only for a few minutes. Five minutes into class, Professor Flitwick confirmed that their exams had not been cancelled and that they would start on the first of June, one week from then.

"Exams?" Kevin cried, "We're still having exams?"

The class went into an uproar. Quinn looked around, watching the chaos and dodging a ball of parchment Anthony Goldstein had aimed for Professor Flitwick.

"The whole point of keeping the school open at this time is for you to receive your education!" Flitwick shouted, dodging as Stephen Cornfoot threw another piece of parchment at him, "The exams are happening! Cornfoot, Goldstein, detention for the both of you!"

Quinn had always assumed that exams were still happening, and she was quite surprised that more people hadn't. Even Morag seemed to be upset at the news.

"Professor Dumbledore's instructions were to keep the school running as normal as possible," Flitwick told them once the students had settled down, "Which includes finding out how much you have learned this year."

Quinn rubbed her eyes. At least she had been keeping up with her studies. However, she was exhausted all the time, so she knew that would not help with her success.

"I'm going to fail miserably," Kevin grumbled, slamming his head on the desk so hard that he shook the coin he was supposed to make dance.

⊰ ⋅ ⊱

Three days before their first exam, another announcement was made, this time by Professor McGonagall at breakfast.

"I have good news!" she said, and the Great Hall, instead of falling silent, erupted.

"Dumbledore's coming back!" several people yelled joyfully.

"You've caught the Heir of Slytherin!" Mandy Brocklehurst squealed.

"QUIDDITCH!" Kevin cried, getting to his feet and pumping his arm in the air.

When the chaos subsided, Professor McGonagall said, "Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."

There was an explosion of cheering. A big smile broke out on Quinn's face. Hermione would be okay. Justin would be okay. Everything would be okay by the next morning.

As she contently spread marmalade on her toast, Quinn felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned and was surprised to see Ginny Weasley, as they had only spoken a handful of times.

"Hi, Ginny. Did you need something?" she asked.

Ginny stood awkwardly, looking down at her feet as she wrung her hands.

"Are you okay?" Quinn went on, "Should I get Ron?"

Ginny's eyes widened, a fearful look in them, "No! No, I just — I need to tell you something."

"What is it?"

The redhead looked around nervously, as if she was gauging her surroundings. Quinn tilted her head as she looked at her, her brow scrunching together in concern.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm — I need — I want to meet your cat."

Quinn took a moment to try and process this, "All you wanted was to meet my cat?"

Ginny nodded.

"Okay, well, maybe sometime after the Heir is caught, then I can bring her to the Gryffindor common room or you can come to mine, okay?"

Ginny looked as if she was frozen. She nodded stiffly, and said, "I like cats."

"I do too. Phoebe's very nice, and I'm sure she'll love you," Quinn told her, smiling. As Ginny began to walk away, though, Quinn quickly grabbed her hand.

"If you need anything, just let me know, okay? You can write to me, send a letter to my dorm and I'll try to help, okay?" Quinn offered in a low voice.

Ginny nodded and muttered a barely audible "thank you" before walking to the far end of the Gryffindor table. Quinn watched her every move. She wasn't sure why the Weasley girl was so shaken, but what she did know was that she had to keep an eye out for her.

⊰ ⋅ ⊱

"It's nice that you're concerned, but Percy said she has something on him. Nothing to worry about."

They were being escorted to History of Magic by Gilderoy Lockhart when Quinn brought up her conversation with Ginny to Ron, which he quickly brushed off.

"But she seemed really upset, and then she told me she wanted to meet my cat. You don't find that a little odd?" Quinn asked.

"Of course I do, but, it's Ginny. She gets nervous around Harry because she fancies him," Ron said.

"But Harry wasn't there when she talked to me," Quinn retorted.

"She's probably just worried about exams and thought your cat would calm her down," Ron suggested, "I'm sure if there was anything serious going on, she would tell me."

Quinn decided to drop it after that. After all, Ron was right. If something was going on, why would Ginny tell Quinn and not Ron? Still, Quinn decided to look out for her, just in case.

Unfortunately, ending her conversation with Ron meant that she had to listen to Lockhart. Their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who had so often assured them that all danger had passed, only to be proved wrong right away, was now wholeheartedly convinced that it was hardly worth the trouble to see them safely down the corridors. His hair wasn't as sleek as usual; it seemed he had been up most of the night, patrolling the fourth floor.

"Mark my words," he said, ushering them around a corner, "The first words out of those poor Petrified people's mouths will be 'It was Hagrid.' Frankly, I'm astounded Professor McGonagall thinks all these security measures are necessary."

"I agree, sir," Harry said, making Quinn look at him in confusion and shock and Ron drop his books in surprise.

"Thank you, Harry," Lockhart said graciously while they waited for a long line of Hufflepuffs to pass, "I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with, without walking students to classes and standing guard all night ..."

"That's right," Ron chimed in, and Quinn was starting to feel as though she were losing it, "Why don't you leave us here sir, we've only got one more corridor to go —"

It was then that Quinn finally caught on, as they were only one passage away from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"You know, Weasley, I think I will," Lockhart said, "I really should go and prepare my next class —"

And with that, he hurried off.

Quinn, Harry, and Ron let the rest of the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors walk ahead of them, then darted down a side passage and hurried off toward Myrtle's bathroom. But just as Quinn was praising them for coming up with such a brilliant scheme —

"Potter! Weasley! Fenwick! What are you doing?"

It was Professor McGonagall, and her mouth was the thinnest of thin lines.

"We were — we were —" Ron stammered, "We were going to — to go and see —"

"We were going to the Hospital Wing. To see Hermione and Justin," Quinn said quickly. Harry, Ron, and Professor McGonagall all looked at her.

"We haven't seen Hermione in ages and I — I haven't visited Justin at all," Quinn went on, looking around nervously, "I feel a bit responsible, I suppose, for not being there for them. One friend being Petrified could be an accident, but two? Who lets two friends be Petrified? Anyways, after finding out about the Mandrakes, I've built up the courage to see them, and tell them everything will be alright soon."

Professor McGonagall was staring down at her, and Quinn was surprised to see a saddened look on her face. When she did speak, it was in a strangely raspy voice.

"None of this is your fault, Quinn. Do not blame yourself for something that is out of your hands. You couldn't have known," she said, and Quinn was surprised to hear her address her by her first name and to see a tear glistening in her eye, "I realize this has all been hardest on the friends of those who have been ... I quite understand. Yes, Quinn, of course, you may all visit Miss Granger and Mr. Finch-Fletchley. I will inform Professor Binns where you've gone. Tell Madam Pomfrey I have given my permission."

Quinn, Harry, and Ron walked away, hardly daring to believe that they'd avoided detention. As they turned the corner, they distinctly heard Professor McGonagall blow her nose.

"That," Ron said fervently, "was one of the best stories any of us has come up with."

But it wasn't a story. It was the truth. To lose one friend could be passed off as an unfortunate fluke, but to lose two was due to a lack of awareness, a lack of carefulness.

They had no choice now but to go to the Hospital Wing and tell Madam Pomfrey that they had Professor McGonagall's permission to visit Hermione and Justin.

Madam Pomfrey let them in, begrudgingly.

"There's just no point talking to a Petrified person," she fussed, and Quinn couldn't argue with her as she sat down next to Justin. It was clear that he had no idea he had a visitor, or that any time had passed since December.

Justin looked exactly as Quinn had remembered him, a look of shock frozen on his face. The only difference was that someone had taken off his glasses and set them on his bedside cabinet. Quinn reached out, hesitantly grabbing his hand.

"Professor McGonagall's right. It's not your fault," Harry said. Quinn looked up at him. He had left Ron with Hermione and was standing at the foot of Justin's bed.

"Ernie told me that he never hated me, but I'm not sure I believe him," Quinn said, "Did he ever apologize to you? He said he would."

"He did, in Charms."

"I shouldn't have let Hermione go alone. I should've gone with her. I should've known better," Quinn said, looking over to where her bushy-haired friend laid.

"Going with her wouldn't have made it better. It would just mean you both would be Petrified," Harry told her.

Quinn didn't answer. She would have preferred it if she were Petrified. At least then she wouldn't have to deal with the guilt.

Quinn stayed with Justin a bit longer, with Harry taking a seat next to her. Even Ron came over and paid his respects. After all, as he put it, they had always gotten along.

Eventually, Quinn made her way over to Hermione, who had also not changed a bit. She blankly stared at the ceiling, and Quinn grabbed onto one of her hands, just as she had for Justin.

"Wonder if she did see the attacker, though?" Ron questioned, looking at Hermione's rigid face, "Because if he sneaked up on them all, no one'll ever know ..."

Quinn didn't answer, she just held Hermione's hand tighter. She wondered what it would be like to wake up after what feels like a moment and realizing that months have gone by.

She became so caught up in her own thoughts that she almost missed Ron saying, "Try and get it out."

Quinn looked at Harry, who was trying to dig something out of Hermione's other hand. Harry struggled to do this, as it seemed that Hermione's hand was clamped very tightly around whatever it was. Quinn watched silently as Harry struggled to get it, when, after several minutes, he pulled a piece of paper out of Hermione's grasp.

It looked like a page torn from an old book. Harry smoothed it out and Quinn and Ron leaned close to read it, too.

Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.

And beneath the excerpt, a single word had been written, in Hermione's all-too-familiar handwriting. Pipes.

Quinn couldn't believe it. Hermione had figured it out.

"This is it," Harry breathed out, "This is the answer. The monster in the Chamber's a basilisk — a giant serpent! That's why I've been hearing that voice all over the place, and nobody else has heard it. It's because I understand Parseltongue ..."

Harry looked up at the beds around them.

"The basilisk kills people by looking at them, but no one's died — because no one looked it straight in the eye," he said, "Colin saw it through his camera. The basilisk burned up all the film inside it, but Colin just got Petrified. Justin —"

"Justin would have seen it through Nearly Headless Nick," Quinn muttered, looking over at her friend.

"Right! Nick got the full blast of it, but he couldn't die again," Harry agreed, "And Hermione and that Ravenclaw girl — Sloane, right? They were found with the mirror next to them. Hermione had just realized the monster was a basilisk. I bet you anything she warned the first person she met to look around corners with a mirror first! And that girl pulled out her mirror — and —"

Ron's jaw dropped, "And Mrs. Norris?"

Quinn hadn't thought about Mrs. Norris in a long time, and a selfish part of her was glad. She hated that cat.

"The water ..." Harry said slowly, "The flood from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. I bet Mrs. Norris only saw the reflection ..."

Harry scanned the page over.

"'The Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster ... is fatal to it!"' he read aloud. "Do you remember when we saw Hagrid right before Justin was Petrified, Quinn? His roosters were killed! The Heir of Slytherin didn't want one anywhere near the castle once the Chamber was opened! Spiders flee before it! It all fits!"

"But how's the basilisk been getting around the place?" Ron asked, "A giant snake ... Someone would've seen ..."

Quinn took the paper from Harry and pointed at the word that had been scribbled at the foot of the page.

"Hermione's answered that," she said, "Pipes. It's been using the plumbing. That's why you've been hearing that voice inside the walls, Harry."

Ron suddenly grabbed each of their arms, frantically looking between them,

"The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets!" he said hoarsely, "What if it's a bathroom? What if it's in —"

"— Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," Quinn finished.

They sat there, stunned, hardly able to believe that, after all these months, they had finally figured it out.

"This means," Harry began, "I can't be the only Parselmouth in the school. The Heir of Slytherin's one, too. That's how he's been controlling the basilisk."

"What're we going to do?" Ron asked, his eyes flashing.

"We need to tell someone, Professor McGonagall, probably," Quinn said.

"Let's go to the staffroom," Harry said, jumping up, "She'll be there in ten minutes. It's nearly break."

They ran downstairs. Not wanting to be discovered hanging around in another corridor, they went straight into the deserted staff room. It was a large, paneled room full of dark, wooden chairs. The three of them paced around it, Quinn too nervous to sit down.

But the bell to signal break never came.

Instead, echoing through the corridors came Professor McGonagall's voice, magically magnified.

"All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staffroom. Immediately, please."

Quinn looked between Harry and Ron.

"Another attack?" she wondered aloud.

"What'll we do?" Ron questioned, aghast, "Go back to the dormitory?"

"No," Harry said, glancing around. Quinn followed his line of sight. There was an ugly sort of wardrobe to his left, full of the teachers' cloaks, "In here. Let's hear what it's all about. Then we can tell them what we've found out."

"You want to get in the wardrobe, eavesdrop, and then pop out and tell them we know what the monster is?" Quinn questioned. She couldn't believe how someone could be so smart and so thick at the same time.

"Just get in, Quinn!" Harry urged, pulling her with him to the wardrobe.

The three of them hid themselves inside it, listening to the rumbling of hundreds of people moving overhead, and the staffroom door banging open. From between the musty folds of the cloaks, they watched the teachers filtering into the room. Some of them were looking puzzled, others downright scared. Then Professor McGonagall arrived.

"It has happened," she told the silent staffroom, "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth.

Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and asked, "How can you be sure?"

"The Heir of Slytherin," Professor McGonagall, who was very pale, began, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever."

Professor Flitwick burst into tears.

"Who is it?" Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair, "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley," Professor McGonagall said.

Quinn's eyes widened. She had meant to keep an eye on her, but it wasn't even lunch yet. She didn't think that anything could happen to her in the span of a couple hours. But she never thought that anything could have happened to Justin or Hermione, either. She should have known better.

Quinn felt Ron slide silently down onto the wardrobe floor. She blindly placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.

"We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow," Professor McGonagall announced, "This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said ..."

The staffroom door banged open again. Quinn wondered who could be making such an entrance, and she silently ridiculed herself for not realizing that it was Lockhart, who was currently beaming from ear to ear.

"So sorry — dozed off — what have I missed?"

He didn't seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him with something remarkably like hatred. Snape stepped forward.

"Just the man," he said, "The very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last."

Lockhart paled.

"That's right, Gilderoy," Professor Sprout chipped in, "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I — well, I —" sputtered Lockhart.

"Yes, didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?" Professor Flitwick piped up.

"D-did I? I don't recall —"

"I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," said Snape, "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?"

Lockhart stared around at his stony-faced colleagues.

"I — I really never — you may have misunderstood –"

"We'll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy," Professor McGonagall said, "Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last."

Lockhart gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to the rescue. He didn't look remotely handsome anymore. His lip was trembling, and in the absence of his usually toothy grin, he looked weak-chinned and feeble.

"V-very well," he stammered, "I'll — I'll be in my office, getting — getting ready."

And he left the room.

"Right," Professor McGonagall started, her nostrils flared, "that's got him out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories?"

The teachers rose and left, one by one.

⊰ ⋅ ⊱

No one noticed when Quinn came back to the common room.

Professor Flitwick must have already come and gone, as the common room was packed, but silent. Quinn slowly made her way to one of the sofas where she saw Kevin and Morag. Neither of them said anything to her when she sat down; they were too lost in their own thoughts, just like everyone else. She laid her head on Morag's shoulder.

Why would the Heir of Slytherin take Ginny? she wondered. Ginny was a pureblood, so she wasn't a target, and she was only a first year, so she wasn't a threat.

Perhaps she figured out who the Heir was. But how could she have figured it out? Maybe she went into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and saw them with the basilisk. But, if she saw the basilisk, there was a good chance that she was already dead. Quinn didn't want to entertain that thought.

The common room started to clear out after a while. Quinn almost went up to her dorm when Roger Davies came over to her.

"Hey, Quinn, Harry Potter and that redhead you're always around are outside," he told her.

Quinn's brow scrunched in confusion, "Really?"

"Yeah, they've been banging on the door for a few minutes now," Roger said, "At first, I thought it was a first year who couldn't figure out the riddle. Imagine my surprise."

With that, Roger walked away. Quinn looked at Kevin and Morag, who both shrugged, before getting up and going over to the entrance to the common room.

Just as Roger had said, Harry and Ron were standing outside.

"What are you doing here?" she asked them.

"We're going to see Lockhart. Tell him everything we know. He's going to save Ginny, so he should know what he's walking into," Ron explained, "We figured you might want to join."

Quinn, who had nothing better to do, shrugged in agreement. None of the Ravenclaws said anything as she closed the door behind her.

As they walked down the spiral stairs, Harry asked, "Quinn, if a rooster lays an egg on the border between France and Spain, which country is the egg in?"

"Neither. Roosters don't lay eggs," Quinn answered immediately.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, "This is why we're not in Ravenclaw."

"I wouldn't beat yourself up about it," Quinn told him, "After all, Kevin's a Ravenclaw and he hasn't solved a single riddle yet."

This was true. While Quinn's score was 271-0, poor Kevin's was 0-87. He normally just let whoever was with him solve the riddle, but, on some occasions, Quinn would return to the common room and see him sitting by the door in a state of defeat.

Darkness was falling as they walked down to Lockhart's office. There seemed to be a lot of activity going on inside it. They could hear scraping, thumps, and hurried footsteps.

Harry knocked and there was a sudden silence from inside, Then the door opened the tiniest crack and they saw one of Lockhart's eyes peering through it.

"Oh — Mr. Potter — Miss Fenwick — and Mr. Weasley —" he said, opening the door a bit wider, "I'm rather busy at the moment — if you would be quick —"

"Professor, we've got some information for you," said Harry. "We think it'll help you."

"Er — well — it's not terribly —" The side of Lockhart's face that they could see looked very uncomfortable, "I mean — well — all right —"

He opened the door and they entered.

His office had been almost completely stripped. Two large trunks stood open on the floor. Robes, jade-green, lilac, midnight-blue, had been hastily folded into one of them; books were jumbled untidily into the other. The photographs that had covered the walls were now crammed into boxes on the desk.

"Are you going somewhere?" Harry asked.

"Er, well, yes," said Lockhart, ripping a life-size poster of himself from the back of the door as he spoke and starting to roll it up. "Urgent call — unavoidable — got to go —

"What about my sister?" Ron asked jerkily.

"Well, as to that — most unfortunate —" Lockhart said, avoiding their eyes as he wrenched open a drawer and started emptying the contents into a bag, "No one regrets more than I —"

"You can't leave! You agreed to kill the monster!" Quinn said, "You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher! This should be right up your alley!"

"Well — I must say — when I took the job —" Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes, "nothing in the job description — didn't expect —"

"You mean you're running away?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"What about everything you wrote in your books?" Quinn added, "Did that mean noth— do you wear wigs?"

Lockhart quickly grabbed one of his blonde wigs off of the mannequin head before throwing it into one of his trunks and slamming it shut.

"Books can be misleading," Lockhart said delicately.

"You wrote them!" Harry shouted.

"My dear boy," Lockhart said, straightening up and frowning at the three of them, "Do use your common sense. My books wouldn't have sold half as well if people didn't think I'd done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He'd look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a harelip. I mean, come on —"

"So you've been taking credit for what a load of other people have done?" Harry questioned incredulously.

"Harry, Harry," Lockhart sighed, shaking his head impatiently, "it's not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn't remember doing it. If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's my Memory Charms. No, it's been a lot of work, Harry. It's not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog."

He banged the lid of his other trunk shut and locked them both.

"Let's see," he muttered, "I think that's everything. Yes. Only one thing left."

He pulled out his wand and turned to them. Ron took a small step and moved himself in front of Quinn.

"I'm awfully sorry, but I'll have to put a Memory Charm on you now. Can't have any of you blabbing my secrets all over the place. I'd never sell another book —"

Unbeknownst to Quinn, Harry had reached his own wand just in time. Lockhart had barely raised his, when Harry bellowed, "Expelliarmus!"

Lockhart was blasted backward, falling over his trunk; his wand flew high in the air; Ron caught it and flung it out of the open window; Quinn pulled out her own wand and pointed it at their professor.

"Shouldn't have let Professor Snape teach us that one," Harry said furiously, kicking Lockhart's trunk aside. Lockhart was looking up at him, feeble once more. Harry and Quinn were still pointing their wands at him.

"What d'you want me to do?" Lockhart weakly asked, "I don't know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There's nothing I can do."

"Luckily for you, you don't need to worry about finding it," Quinn told him as Harry forced him to his feet at wandpoint, "We have a pretty good idea of where it is and what monster is inside it. Let's go."

They marched Lockhart out of his office and down the nearest stairs, along the dark corridor where the message shone on the wall, to the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

They sent Lockhart in first. Quinn had to hide her amusement when she saw that he was shaking.

Moaning Myrtle was sitting on the tank at the end of the toilet.

"Hello, Myrtle," Quinn greeted.

"Oh, it's you," she said, looking Quinn up and down, "What do you want this time?"

"To ask you how you died," Harry said.

Myrtle's whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she began with relish, "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then —" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining, "I died."

"How?" Harry asked.

"No idea," Myrtle said in a hushed tone, "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away ..." She looked dreamily at Harry, "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

"Where exactly did you see the eyes?" Harry asked.

"Somewhere there," Myrtle answered, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet.

Quinn, Harry, and Ron hurried over to it. Lockhart was standing well back, a look of utter terror on his face.

It looked like an ordinary sink. They examined every inch of it, inside and out, including the pipes below.

"Come look at this," Harry suddenly said. Quinn and Ron went to see where he was gesturing to. Scratched on the side of one of the copper taps was a tiny snake.

"That tap's never worked," Myrtle said brightly as Harry tried to turn it.

"Harry," Ron muttered, "Say something. Something in Parseltongue."

"But —"

"There's no harm in trying," Quinn said.

Harry nodded. He stared at the sink.

"Open up," he said.

He looked at Quinn and Ron expectantly. They shook their heads.

"English," Ron told him.

Harry looked back at the snake. When he spoke next, it wasn't in words; a strange hissing had escaped him, and at once the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move — the sink, in fact, sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

Ron gasped, Quinn looked down the pipe, trying to see where it led, but it was too dark.

"I'm going down there," Harry said.

"I don't think we would expect any less," Quinn replied, "I'm going with you."

"Me too," Ron said.

There was a pause as the three of them all stared into the dark abyss, stomachs churning as they grew more nervous.

"Well, you hardly seem to need me," Lockhart announced, with a shadow of his old smile, "I'll just —"

He put his hand on the doorknob, but Quinn, Harry, and Ron all pointed their wands at him.

"You can go first," Ron snarled.

"Children," he stammered, his voice feeble, "Children, what good will it do?"

Harry jabbed him in the back with his wand. Lockhart slid his legs into the pipe.

"I really don't think —" he started to say, but Ron gave him a push, and he slid out of sight.

"The push was a bit much, Ron," Quinn told him as Harry went right after Lockhart.

"Would you like me to push you next?" Ron asked.

Quinn glared at him, "If you touch me, I will strangle you when you get down there."

After that, Quinn lowered herself into the pipe and slid down it. It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. She could see more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as theirs, which twisted and turned, sloping steeply downward, and as she fell, she knew she was going even farther down than the dungeons. Behind her, she could hear Ron, thudding slightly at the curves.

And then, just as she was thinking about how awfully long this pipe was, it leveled out, and she shot out of the end with a thud, right onto Harry.

"Sorry," she mumbled, getting off of him.

"It's alright," he groaned, and Quinn helped him to his feet, just in time to get out of Ron's way.

They were in a dark stone tunnel, just large enough to stand in. Lockhart was getting to his feet a little ways away, covered in slime and white as a ghost. Ron got to his feet as well, and was trying to wipe some of the slime off of his robes.

"We must be miles under the school," Harry remarked, his voice echoing in the black tunnel.

"Under the lake, probably," Ron said, squinting around at the dark, slimy walls.

All four of them turned to stare into the darkness ahead.

Quinn pulled out her wand and muttered, "Lumos," and it lit up the tunnel ahead of them, if only barely.

"C'mon," Harry said to the other three, and off they went, their footsteps slapping loudly on the wet floor, Quinn leading the way.

The tunnel was so dark that they could only see a little distance ahead. Their shadows on the wet walls looked monstrous in the wandlight.

"Remember," Harry said quietly as they walked cautiously forward, "any sign of movement, close your eyes right away ..."

"How do we plan on running from the giant snake with our eyes closed?" Quinn asked.

"Don't say things like that, for my sake," Ron muttered.

The tunnel was as quiet as the grave, and the first unexpected sound they heard was a loud crunch, as Ron stepped on what turned out to be a rat's skull. Quinn lowered her wand to look at the ground and saw that it was littered with small animal bones.

The Heir's last message about Ginny's skeleton instantly came to mind. She did her best to stop thinking of it and continued to lead the way, around a dark bend in the tunnel.

"Harry — Quinn — there's something up there —" Ron whispered hoarsely, grabbing Harry's shoulder.

They froze, watching. As Quinn's eyes adjusted, she could see the outline of something huge and carved, lying right across the tunnel. It wasn't moving.

"Maybe it's asleep," Harry breathed, glancing between the other three. Lockhart's hands were pressed over his eyes. Quinn's eyes never left the thing, her heart beating so fast she felt as if she couldn't breathe.

Very slowly, with a hand partially covering her eyes, Quinn edged forward, her wand held high. Harry placed a hand on her shoulder to let her know that she wasn't alone, which Quinn greatly appreciated.

The light slid over a gigantic snake skin, of a vivid, poisonous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor. The creature that had shed it must have been twenty feet long at least.

"Blimey," Ron said weakly. Quinn breathed out in relief. At least it wasn't with them.

There was a sudden movement behind them. Gilderoy Lockhart's knees had given way.

"Get up," said Ron sharply, pointing his wand at Lockhart.

Lockhart got to his feet — then he dived at Ron, knocking him onto the ground, and reached out for Quinn.

Before Quinn could react, her wand was on the ground across the tunnel, Lockhart's arm was wrapped tightly around her neck, and Ron's wand was digging into her cheek, a gleaming smile back on his face. Harry, the only one with a wand, couldn't do anything — Lockhart was using Quinn as a human shield.

"The adventure ends here!" Lockhart cried as Quinn grappled to pry his arm off of her, coughing as she struggled to breathe, "I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and that you three tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body — say good-bye to your memories!"

He raised Ron's Spellotaped wand high over his head and yelled, "Obliviate!"

The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb. Quinn went flying; she slammed into the wall of the tunnel and fell to the ground, and then she felt a sharp pain on her forehead, causing her to cry out in pain.

It all happened so quickly, and when she finally came back to reality, Ron was leaning over her.

"Quinn? Oh, thank Merlin," he sighed, before yelling, "Harry! She's awake, she seems alright!"

"What happened?" Quinn asked, moving to sit up.

"Don't move yet, Quinn. Your head — you're bleeding from your head really bad," Ron stammered, trying to rip a piece of fabric off the bottom of his shirt.

"You're both okay? Ron!" Quinn heard Harry call.

"Quinn's got a big gash on her head, but other than that, we're fine!" Ron shouted, still trying to tear his shirt, "This git's not, though — he got blasted by the wand — aha!"

Ron had managed to rip a piece of his shirt off, and he pressed it to Quinn's forehead.

"Hold that there, Quinn. Can you sit up?"

Quinn nodded, and Ron helped her up. The blast had caused some of the tunnel to fall apart, and there was now a large, solid wall of broken rock. She looked around — Harry was nowhere to be seen. He must be on the other side.

Once he was sure Quinn was comfortable against a pile of rocks, Ron got to his feet, walked over to Lockhart, and kicked him in the shins, causing Lockhart to shout in pain.

"What now?" Ron yelled, his voice desperate, "We can't get through — it'll take ages ..."

Quinn removed the piece of fabric from her forehead. Ron was right — she was bleeding so much that the piece of his shirt that was once white was now a deep crimson red. When Ron realized that she had removed it, he quickly moved back to her, pushing her hand back as he began to tear off another piece of his shirt.

"Wait there," Harry called from the other side of the rock wall, "Wait with Quinn and Lockhart. I'll go on ... If I'm not back in an hour ..."

Quinn immediately got to her feet, ignoring Ron's protests, and stumbled over to the wall of broken rock.

"Don't say things like that!" she yelled, "Ron and I ... we can — we can make it through if you just wait —"

"You're not making it through anywhere, Quinn, you can barely walk," Ron said, walking over to her to help her stand.

"We don't have time to argue about this, Quinn!" Harry called, "Just — don't wait for more than an hour! Promise me!"

Quinn didn't answer. She felt light-headed, and she was worried that if she talked, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from crying.

"I'll try and shift some of this rock," Ron said, who seemed to be trying to keep his voice steady. "So you can — can get back through. And, Harry —"

"See you in a bit," Harry called, his voice shaking.

"Harry? Harry, don't go! We can — we can make it through! Harry!" Quinn yelled. There was no answer.

"He'll be alright, Quinn. He and Ginny they'll — they'll both be alright," Ron told her, "Come on, you should sit down."

Ron led her back over to where she was sitting against the wall, slowly helping her back down. He took a couple of minutes to tear off another piece of his shirt, replacing it with the blood-soaked one.

"Blimey, Quinn, that's a lot of blood. Are you sure you're feeling alright?" he asked her, pressing the shirt piece against her gash.

"I think so. I feel very tired, though," Quinn told him.

"Why don't you try to get some rest? Here, lay down again, it might slow the bleeding — keep the shirt on it. Maybe keep talking so I know you're not dead."

He helped Quinn lay on the ground, making sure she was keeping pressure on her forehead, before walking over to Lockhart and kicking him in the shins once again, causing Lockhart to groan. As Ron moved rock after rock, Quinn told him stories about her visits to the beach with her mothers, and how she could never beat Morag in a race.

Eventually, Quinn grew tired, and she couldn't fight the sleep that came over her. Ron checked to make sure she was still breathing once she stopped talking. Part of him was relieved when she fell asleep; at least she could escape the fear he was feeling, if only it was for a short while.

⊱ ────── 𖥔 ✶ 𖥔 ────── ⊰

WRITTEN: may 2024
EDITED: november 2024
WORDS: 6,942

AUTHOR'S NOTE! what an ending! i'm expecting at least one "do you wear wigs" joke lol. i have a bunch of homework so i hope you enjoyed this chapter :) happy early thanksgiving to those who celebrated!!