He cleared his throat, making a tiny sound like a piece of chalk snapping, and went on:
"Now, in that October, a specialist task force of wizards from Sardinia—"
He faltered and stopped. Hermione's hand had shot back up and was waving in midair.
"Miss Granger?"
"I just wanted to ask, sir—don't legends usually have some basis in fact?"
Professor Binns stared at her, utterly taken aback.
"Well," he said slowly, "yes, I suppose… you could put it that way."
He peered at Hermione, as though he'd never properly looked at a student before.
"But the particular legend you are referring to is an extremely lurid and frankly ridiculous story…"
Now the whole class was hanging on his every word.
He blinked at them; every single face in the room was turned toward him.
Harry could tell that this sudden, unprecedented interest from the class was making Professor Binns very uncomfortable.
"Oh… very well, then," he said at last, very slowly. "Let me think… the Chamber of Secrets… You all, of course, know that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago—exact dates are uncertain—by four of the greatest wizards of the age.
"The four Houses still bear their names: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin.
"They built this castle together, far from Muggle eyes, because in those times people feared magic, and witches and wizards were much persecuted."
Every neck in the room craned forward.
"At first, they were great friends and worked in harmony toward the same goal," Binns continued. "They travelled widely to seek out young people who showed signs of magic and brought them here to be educated.
"However, over time, disagreements arose. The rift between Slytherin and the others grew deeper and deeper. Slytherin wanted Hogwarts to be more selective in whom it admitted. He believed only those of pure-blood wizarding lineage should be educated. He refused to accept children born to Muggle families, thinking them unreliable.
"After a time, Slytherin and Gryffindor quarrelled fiercely over this issue, and Slytherin left the school."
He paused again, puckering his lips like a wrinkled old tortoise.
"That," he said, "is what reliable historical sources tell us."
"And the Chamber, Professor?" Hermione pressed; she could feel they were close to the truth.
"The Chamber of Secrets," Binns said stiffly, "is where this foolish legend begins to obscure the facts. The story goes that Slytherin built a secret chamber in the castle, unknown to the other founders.
"According to the tale, Slytherin sealed the Chamber so that no one could open it… until his true heir came to the school. Only that heir would be able to unseal the Chamber, release the horror within, and use it to 'purge' the school of all unworthy to study magic."
He finished the story.
The classroom was silent—but not with the usual sleepy stupor of Binns's lessons.
"I get it…" Hermione whispered, her face gone very pale as everything snapped together.
Tom Riddle—that name—he must be Slytherin's heir. He wanted to unleash the monster but was stopped by Sean.
But who was Tom Riddle?
"The diary, Hermione. The diary," Harry muttered, looking just as shaken.
Hogwarts had been hiding a monster like that. If not for Sean facing it alone every night, would the basilisk already be loose?
"I'm telling you, the whole thing is nonsense," Binns said, shuffling his notes. "There is no Chamber, and there is no monster."
…
After class.
On the way back to the Room of Hope.
Ron shivered and babbled anxiously:
"I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old nutter. I just didn't realise he came up with all that pure-blood rubbish. You couldn't pay me to go into his House.
"Honestly, if the Sorting Hat had tried to put me in Slytherin, I'd've been on the train home before you could blink…"
Harry doubted Ron would dare—Mrs Weasley would probably just throw him back on the train—but he never doubted Ron didn't look down on Muggle-borns.
"We have to find Ginny," Hermione said, eyes fixed on them. "And as for the fang, Harry—look there…"
Harry turned his head. Lying calmly on Sean's desk was a huge, wickedly curved tooth.
"He's terrifyingly strong… I swear, if that old madman Slytherin were still alive, he'd change his mind. At his age, Sean could probably beat ten of him…"
Ron could practically picture what had happened in the Chamber.
"But I still feel like something's… missing. Where's Sean?"
Hermione and Harry shot to their feet.
At this time of day Sean should have been in the Room of Hope reading. And at breakfast, they'd never even seen him—totally unheard of.
They hurried to the second-floor girls' bathroom and almost crashed into Ginny.
"Ginny, what are you doing here?" Ron asked, pretending casual conversation, while Hermione's eye had already locked on the strange old book buried among Ginny's shiny new ones.
"Harry—look there…"
Hermione whispered.
Harry followed her gaze, then slipped over to Ginny, snatching the old book free with careful fingers.
It went far too smoothly.
It was as if the diary had wanted to end up in his hand.
Harry recognised it at once as a diary. The cover was faded, the date on it placing it fifty years in the past.
His heart pounding, he flipped it open. On the first page he could make out only a name, blurred by age and ink:
T. M. Riddle.
"…Uh, right… bye then," Ron stammered, feeling a sharp jab in the ribs. He hurriedly wrapped up the conversation and the three of them left at speed.
But the moment he saw the diary, Ron suddenly blurted:
"I remember! I know that name… Riddle got the Special Award for Services to the School fifty years ago!"
"Ron, the rest later," Harry said through gritted teeth, fist tightening around the fang.
He lifted it, ready to strike.
"Wait, Harry. We haven't even found Sean yet. This might be important," Hermione grabbed his arm.
By now they'd reached the girls' bathroom door.
No one had wanted to come here lately—Peeves had been making a mess of the place, smashing things left and right.
They slipped inside; Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth.
Harry and Ron saw her eyes instantly fill with tears.
And then they saw it too—floating stiffly in the water of the sink basin lay the petrified alchemical toad.
~~~
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