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Chapter 166
"But who could the Heir of Slytherin be? There are plenty of unpleasant people in Slytherin, but very few who would actually fit the profile. After all, if they're caught, they won't just be expelled—they'll be sent to Azkaban. And that's basically a living hell."
Ron muttered suspiciously under his breath.
He didn't notice that Ginny's face, which had only just regained some color, suddenly turned pale again.
Harry, however, had been quietly paying attention to her the whole time. He immediately noticed the change and quickly steered the conversation elsewhere.
"Let's stop talking about haunted places and dark stuff. School's starting again soon."
"Even though we've had a pretty relaxing holiday, if I go too long without classes, I start feeling lazy," Hermione said seriously as she stretched.
Harry and Ron exchanged looks.
Hermione carried a book everywhere she went and never seemed to put one down.
If that counted as laziness, then the world of academic fanatics was truly beyond ordinary people.
The holidays eventually came to an end.
After Christmas, students naturally returned to their normal routines.
Apparently, attending classes was even more important than avoiding Basilisk attacks.
George had already arranged countermeasures against Lucius's schemes, and Harry and the others relaxed, returning their focus to homework and studies.
No matter what happened, your own abilities and strength were what mattered most in the end.
At the start of the new term, Snape seemed unusually tense and assigned enormous amounts of homework.
Fortunately, he couldn't openly force Harry to do extra work just because he disliked him.
Otherwise, Harry was convinced Snape would happily make him copy the entire library by hand.
Harry and Ron left the dormitory and hurried back toward the castle.
Finishing all that homework was no easy task.
The worst part was that while Snape couldn't openly target Harry, he had plenty of indirect ways to make life difficult.
He assigned huge workloads and handed out poor grades to anyone who failed to complete them.
Harry didn't even want to imagine how many points Snape would deduct if he failed to finish an assignment.
Being singled out by a teacher who hated him was bad enough already.
As they entered a corridor, an angry shout echoed from the floor above.
"That's Filch!" Harry whispered. "Let's go see what's happened!"
Taking the stairs two at a time, he rushed upward.
Ron followed closely behind.
"Do you think someone else has been attacked?" he asked nervously.
It was broad daylight, nowhere near one of the castle's dark corners, and the Basilisk hadn't exactly been acting recklessly so far.
They froze and listened.
Even without trying, they could hear Filch's hysterical shouting.
"This is madness! Always causing trouble for me! Dragging messes across the floor all night long! Why me? Isn't my workload bad enough already? That's it! I've had enough! I'm going to see Dumbledore!"
His footsteps gradually faded away.
A moment later, a distant door slammed shut.
The boys peeked around the corner.
Filch had clearly been guarding the corridor where Mrs. Norris had originally been attacked.
One glance told them exactly why he was so furious.
Half the corridor was flooded.
Water continued pouring out from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, spreading across the floor.
Only then did they hear Myrtle's sobbing coming from inside.
"Has she gone crazy again?" Ron asked.
They had spent plenty of time in that bathroom while brewing Polyjuice Potion and had witnessed more than a few of Myrtle's emotional breakdowns.
Thankfully, they usually didn't have to get involved.
"Let's take a look," Harry said.
Pulling up the hem of his robes to keep them from getting soaked, he stepped through the door marked OUT OF ORDER.
Moaning Myrtle's crying was several times louder than usual.
Her wails were so shrill and piercing that they practically qualified as a weapon.
Perhaps becoming a ghost had allowed her to transcend the limits of the human body and unlock even greater crying abilities.
She appeared to be hiding inside one of the toilet stalls.
Water was gushing everywhere, extinguishing the bathroom candles.
The room was dimly lit, and the walls and floors were dripping wet.
"What happened, Myrtle?" Harry asked cautiously.
He had learned long ago that upsetting Myrtle only made things worse.
"What happened?" Myrtle shrieked miserably.
"Why? Why would someone throw something at me?"
Harry stepped closer to her stall.
"Who threw something at you?"
"Don't ask me!" Myrtle screamed.
An even larger wave of water burst from her transparent body and splashed across the floor.
"I was sitting here minding my own business, thinking about my tragic life and death, and somebody thought it would be funny to throw a book at me!"
"You don't need to be this upset," Harry said logically. "Even if somebody threw something, it couldn't actually hurt you, could it? Things just pass through ghosts."
Myrtle immediately puffed up like an offended cat.
She swelled dramatically like a balloon and let out a furious screech.
"Oh yes, of course! Let's all throw books at Myrtle! It doesn't matter because she can't feel it! Ten points if you hit her stomach! Fifty if you hit her head! What a fun game!"
Harry quickly raised his hands in surrender.
"Alright, alright! Who threw the book?"
"How should I know?" Myrtle snapped.
"I was sitting on the toilet thinking about my life and death when suddenly a book hit me on the head!"
She pointed angrily toward a corner.
"It's still here. Completely soaked."
Harry and Ron followed her gaze.
Beneath one of the sinks lay a small, thin book.
Its black cover was old and worn, and it was sitting in a puddle of water, thoroughly drenched.
Harry stepped forward to pick it up.
Ron immediately grabbed his arm.
"What?" Harry asked.
"Don't touch random things," Ron warned.
"It could be dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Harry laughed.
"There's nobody here. How dangerous can a book be?"
"Very dangerous," Ron said in a grave voice.
"Books in the wizarding world aren't always ordinary books."
"Magical books are some of the most common magical objects around, and some of them contain really nasty enchantments."
"My dad once told me that the Ministry confiscated books capable of blinding people."
"Anyone who accidentally read a cursed copy of Wizard Sonnets was forced to speak only in five-line rhyming verses for the rest of their lives."
"And an old wizard in Bath owned a magical book that trapped your head inside whenever you opened it. Once it snapped shut, your head stayed stuck in the book, and you'd have to do everything else one-handed."
Harry stared at the soaked black book on the floor.
Suddenly, picking it up didn't seem like such a great idea anymore.
(To be continued...)