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It was about as easy as Harry and Ron had expected to get Lockhart to sign the note, a slightly off-put Hermione leading the charge to the library. Her expression was somber as she read over the recipe to the potion, determination hardening on it after a moment. “It’s dangerous. And complicated. More complicated than anything we’ve ever done in class and some of these ingredients aren’t in the student stores. We have to get them from Snape.”

Harry paled as he read over the potential side effects. Each looked more gruesome and painful than the last. “Maybe we should try something else, Hermione.”

She leveled a stern glare at him, effectively cutting off the rest of his protest. “I can do it. It’s the only way to get the answers from Malfoy. We have to try before a person gets attacked.”

“We could get expelled, Hermione.” Ron whispered furiously, looking around the room. Harry couldn’t blame him. There was a definite sense of danger surrounding the whole affair. “Or die.”

“Only if we get caught and only if I brew it wrong. I won’t.” He wished he had Hermione’s confidence.

Harry caught Ron’s eye for a moment before nodding. “Alright, Hermione. We’ll do it.”

Harry wished he was in pain. Pain would have been better than the jelly arm numbness that Lockhart had inflicted on him. There was quiet between him, Hermione, and Ron as Professor Black escorted them up toward the castle. At least, it was until the man broke the silence.

“That was excellent flying today, particularly with a broken bludger dogging you.” He couldn’t help but look up at the professor in surprise. He got a bland look in return. “I played when I was a student. Seeker. I can recognize talent when I see it.” He looked down at Harry, frowning suddenly as he looked at the flopping arm. “I do not pity the experience you will have tonight, Mr. Potter. Skele-gro is an unpleasant potion, the process even more so.”

Harry stopped walking, causing the others to pause with him. “No offense, Professor, but… Why do you care?”

“Harry!” Hermione’s admonishment fell on deaf ears even as Black smirked.

“I should dock you points for speaking to a teacher like that, but I’ll excuse it for the circumstances.” Harry was certain his surprise showed on his face. “I had my own share of Quidditch related injuries. The prospect of a night in the Hospital Wing would turn any student’s mood sour.” They stepped into the Entrance Hall, Professor Black turning to Ron and Hermione. “I trust you both can get him to the Infirmary in one piece?”

Ron waited until the professor was gone before shaking his head. Harry could practically see the thoughts going through his head – his expression very Hermione-like in the moment. “Anyone else find that really weird?”

“How do you mean?” Hermione asked as they began their trek anew, walking slow. Ron charged on at the encouragement.

“The bloke never shows up for anything outside of his own classes and then he pops up at a Quidditch match that Harry gets attacked at? If this Malfoy thing doesn’t work out, it might be-”

“We can’t just accuse a teacher!” Hermione’s voice went quiet and shrill though Harry could see the doubt in her eyes. “Just because he’s new and a bit odd doesn’t mean he’s the Heir of Slytherin.”

Ron looked as though he was about to speak again but seemed to think better of it as the castle began to fill with noise again – the rest of the school returning from the pitch. “Fine. We’ll talk about it later, if Malfoy ends up not being involved.”

The night was worse than Harry expected. The constant ache of bone rebuilding paired with Ron’s words rattling in his head lead to a sleepless night – he couldn’t see Professor Black hurting people but wasn’t that true of Quirrell? Could they afford to make that mistake again? Dobby’s impromptu visit didn’t help settle him. Not for the first time Harry wondered who Dobby’s master was to have such information.

“Dobby?”

“Yes sir, Mister Harry Potter?”

He hesitated. “If you can’t answer don’t worry but… is your master Professor Black?”

Dobby’s eyes went no wider than they normally were and he didn’t reach for anything to bash himself with and there was warm relief in Harry at that small mercy.

“No sir. Dobby doesn’t serve Mister Black.”

“Thanks, Dobby.” It was something he could tell his friends, at least, even if it didn’t truly help with anything. Certainly not his unease. The dread only grew as another student was brought in, unnaturally still and with Dumbledore as escort. Colin Creevy. Petrified. Resolve settled in him, as annoying as Colin could be, he didn’t deserve to be hurt. He sought out his friends the moment he was released, stonily telling them everything he’d learned. “We have to do it. If we find out, we can tell Dumbledore.”

Malfoy was a dead end. Harry wished he could feel surprised by that. Still, they hadn’t left the Slytherin Common room empty handed, even if Harry hated the direction Malfoy’s information was pointing them.

 “I thought it was Professor Black.” Malfoy had said, lounging as if his chair was a throne. “His family’s old and pure enough for it and there were Blacks at Hogwarts fifty years ago when the mudblood was killed the last time. They said they caught the culprit but Father won’t tell me more, thinks I should stay out of it.”

 The knowledge seemed to trouble Ron almost as much as Harry. “If it’s not Malfoy then it’s got to be Black. Slytherin’s full of a bunch of shady people but most of them aren’t from an old enough bloodline, the others are too stupid. No one’d guess it was a professor, even after last year. You heard him talk in class about the Chamber. Knows a lot, don’t you think?”

 “You knew that he was from an old Pureblood family?” Harry asked, interested.

 “They’re one of the really old families, dark magic types like the Malfoys according to dad. When he heard that one of them was teaching he said to watch out. Apparently they were just as big supporters of You-Know-Who as Mr. Malfoy was.”

 “He doesn’t seem like he would be.” Harry said, playing the voice of reason. It wasn’t a lie, either. Nothing he’d seen of the man the last few months gave any sense of that sort of prejudice. He was far more pleasant than Snape and the whole of Slytherin House as far as Harry was concerned. “You remember how he stood up for Hermione when Malfoy called her… And he hasn’t treated anyone like Snape does. Maybe he’s different from his family.”

 Ron shrugged. “He was a Slytherin.” He said as though that one fact decided it. Maybe it did for him.

 “Maybe there are some that aren’t that bad.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione kept an eye on the professor as classes resumed, but the attacks seemed to have stopped just as abruptly as they began. It was Hermione who finally brought up that point. “There’ve been no attacks. Professor Black hasn’t changed how he’s acted at all, I think you two just can’t help suspecting him.” Hermione crossed her arms, frown tight in a way reminiscent of McGonagall.

“He’s from an old Slytherin family, Hermione!” Ron hissed back, looking around warily for Percy. “One that was big on blood purity. We need to be suspicious of him. Maybe he’s stopped attacking people to throw us off his trail.”

Hermione wasn’t going to be phased and Harry steeled himself for a long argument. “Then why not open the chamber when he was a student? The last time it was opened was fifty years ago. He couldn’t have known he’d get a job here either, could he? It doesn’t make sense.”

Ron was quiet for a moment. “Maybe he didn’t know how to open it or where it was before now. He said it himself, it can be hard to find the ‘truth in legends’ or whatever.”

Her lips pursed, book closing with a final, piercing snap. “I’ll believe it when you have a real argument, Ronald. Just because someone was a pureblood Slytherin doesn’t mean they’re automatically evil.” And then she was gone, heading up to the girl’s dormitories without looking back.

The argument was tabled after that, but the tense atmosphere between Hermione and Ron the next day meant it wasn’t forgotten and he and Ron continued to keep an eye out for suspicious behavior while Hermione spent her spare time in the library.

February and Tom Riddle proved Ron’s suspicions wrong, even if Harry was the only witness to the evidence. He gasped loudly as he was thrust out of the vision, cold dread in his gut. Hagrid. It had been Hagrid. An even stranger culprit than Black but he couldn’t argue what he’d been shown. He couldn’t have meant it, he knew, but he couldn’t argue that Hagrid’s sense of danger was different than the average person. Weren’t Norbert and Fluffy proof of that?

Harry found himself standing outside the History professor’s office without meaning to end up there. Before he could decide to knock or not the door opened. It was the first time Harry had seen the man look genuinely surprised. Professor Black recovered quickly, cool smirk back in place as he looked him over. “Something the matter, Mr. Potter?”

“I had a question about Salazar Slytherin.” Harry said, almost surprised when Black moved to the side to let him in. He entered, taking the offered seat as the words escaped him. “I know when we talked about him in class, you mentioned his thing with snakes.” The professor let out a soft bark of laughter at the phrase. “But did he… have anything to do with spiders? Or anything like spiders?”

Professor Black was quiet for a moment, his brief amusement fading as he considered an answer. “Nothing I recall from the legends, no. And I don’t know of any spider-like creatures that can petrify either, but that’s a question for a competent Defense professor.” Harry was certain it was impossible to miss the distaste in his voice. “It’s out of the scope of Care of Magical Creatures. Normally I’d suggest going to Professor Snape for more information but we both know his opinion of you.”

The frankness had Harry hesitating before replying, eyes shying away from Black to his very tidy office. “Professor Dumbledore said it’s because my dad saved his life.”

“I see.” There was something in his voice that drew Harry’s attention back, a peculiar expression on Black’s face. “That’s one part of the story, I suppose.”

“Did you go to school with them?” It was rare to hear anything about his parents’ school days. “What-”

“That’s unimportant, Mr. Potter.” Harry wanted to disagree, but there was something hard in the Professor’s voice. Final. “Now I’d suggest you go find Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger and stop playing detective. This isn’t a game, people’s lives are at stake and we can’t afford to have twelve year olds going into danger half cocked. Now, have a good day.”

With the admonishment stinging at his pride, Harry left to find Hermione and Ron.

…

There was an air of annoyance in the way Professor Black stood at the front of his classroom, chalkboard devoid of History notes. Instead, written in his precise handwriting was a list of classes available to them. With the attacks growing further and further away as the year continued, class choices became the hottest topic among the second years.

“At the request of the Heads of House,” Professor Black began, voice full of the same irritation. “I will be going over elective courses and how to properly choose the classes you’ll be adding to your curriculum for the next term. Rule one. As tempting as it may be to choose a class to be with a friend, if you wouldn’t pick it by yourself, don’t pick it to be with a friend. You all practically live together as it is. Absence, as it’s said, makes the heart grow fonder.”

A laugh rippled around the room. “Second. Play to your strengths and interests. If you’re good with numbers and maths, try Arithmancy. If languages and curse breaking is something you find compelling, Ancient Runes. Divination isn’t horrible if you’re already interested in Astronomy and Astrology or if you have some level of the Sight. Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies are self-explanatory.”

The lesson seemed to have calmed Neville down some and Harry looked at the courses with a renewed vigor. He and Ron agreed to take Care of Magical Creatures together but where Ron stuck with Divination, Harry signed up for Arithmancy along with Hermione, thinking back to his time in Muggle school. He hadn’t been bad at maths and likely would have been better had he not had the Dursley’s keeping him too busy to really do his course work well. And Hermione’s presence would be a big help, he was sure.

He only wished the peace could last.

Hermione’s petrification was the worst part of it, the smallest part being that it meant only he and Ron were left to continue their fight. It shouldn’t have made the problem seem so much harder, but he could tell that Ron felt the same way. Just like that, the school was full of whispers again, fear renewed on the faces of the students and a pinched, stress look eventually worming it’s way onto all the professors. Well, Harry supposed, almost all the professors. Dumbledore gone and Hagrid being taken away – and, consequently proven innocent to Harry and Ron – were extra blows he had never thought to take into account. Desperation was mounting the longer it took. Knowing they’d had a firsthand account of the death fifty years ago sitting under their nose the whole year didn’t help. What did, and Harry wished Hermione was awake so he could hug her properly, was the clue Hermione had found back when she’d been petrified.

A basilisk. Pipes.

And with Myrtle’s direction, they had a location. They just needed to let the teachers know. It was meant to be simple. Harry tried to keep himself silent as he and Ron hid, listening as the teachers spoke, anxiety high. “A student has been taken to the Chamber.” McGonagall said once all the teachers had arrived. It was impossible to miss the distress and exhaustion on her face. “The Heir of Slytherin left another message under the first one. ‘Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever’.”

“Who?”

“Ginny Weasley.”

It was hard to process anything after that until the somber quiet was shattered by Lockhart. He could hardly even feel the vindictive pleasure filled Harry as he watched the other teachers ganging up on him. One voice was missing, though. Professor Black had stayed quiet through the whole thing other than his one question. Instead, his grey eyes were simply glaring at Lockhart as if fury alone could kill the other man.

Harry didn’t blame him.

Harry hurt. Even with the basilisk venom out of his system, his whole body ached like he’d been hit with twenty bludgers. The last thing he wanted to do was tell the story of what happened, but that’s what he found himself doing – to an audience of Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Black along with Mr, and Mrs. Weasley. It made an odd sight, the carefully prim and proper Professor Black in his black robes and dark hair next to the warm colors of the Weasley clan – though it was stranger to see Mr. Weasley’s normally jovial face tighten when he saw the other man.

It gave Harry an odd sense of deja vu – the reaction almost identical to when they met the Malfoys in Diagon Alley. Except there was no sneering in response, only an even greeting and a quick glance over Ginny as if the professor was assessing if she was hurt. She gave him a tight smile in return. Her eyes met Harry’s and Ron’s before she nodded. Harry spoke, Ron helping the story along.

“It was the diary. It belonged to Tom Riddle.”

“Headmaster, may I?” It was the first words Professor Black said the entire time, seemingly content to listen only. Dumbledore passed it to him and continued to speak as he looked it over, examining the hole the basilisk fang had done to it. When Dumbledore sent the Weasleys to the Hospital Wing and Professor McGonagall to announce the feat, Professor Black followed. He was pale, Harry noticed, watching him hand the diary back to Dumbledore.

The last week of school passed uneventfully and, more excitingly, without any exams. Better were the rumors that spread about Professor Black escorting Mr. Malfoy out of the castle – ranging from a full blown duel to a shouting match between the two purebloods. Lee Jordan, shaking his head, said “I wish. It was pretty boring, actually. Neither of them said anything, but they both looked angry. Reckon Professor could have wiped the floor with Malfoy, though. Would pay to see it.”

Even better, in the end, was the return of Hagrid. For all Harry knew that he’d shortly be returning to the Dursleys, he could do it knowing that, despite everything, his friends were safe, Dobby was free, and the basilisk would hurt no one else.