During Christmas, most people went home, but the castle still felt festive. With Hermione away, Harry and I decided to skive off studying and amuse ourselves however we could.

Every day, we visited Hagrid. He even took us into the Forbidden Forest to see unicorns and introduced us to a little tame thestral he’d rescued. Oddly enough, we could see the baby clearly and even fed it some meat. With Hagrid leading the way in broad daylight, the forest wasn’t the least bit scary. In fact, it was brilliant jumping through snowdrifts, trying to land in his massive footprints so we wouldn’t sink waist-deep.

We spent ages flying—racing, catching the Snitch, and playing impromptu Quidditch matches with whoever stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays.

Then there were the snowball fights. We buried each other in drifts, built snow creatures with the other lads, and brought them to life with spells to make them fight one another.

We teased the girls too. They acted all aloof, refusing to join in, but they’d squeal like mad if a snow-laden branch dumped on their heads or a bewitched snowball nicked their hats. The best was when a snow figure chased them right up to the castle doors, broomstick in hand. They’d be too flustered to think of magic until the thing dissolved into slush at the threshold. Afterward, they’d huff and scold us, but honestly, it was worth it.

Even Filch wasn’t spared. He absolutely lost it when he saw what Harry and I had made—a menacing snowman with a coal-toothed grin, a bucket for a hat, and a broomstick at the ready. He screamed like a first-year and bolted, cursing us all the while. Well, what can you do? Boys will be boys.

One of the best bits was building massive ice fortresses with magic, no hands required, then pelting each other with enchanted snowballs from behind the walls. It was miles better than regular snowball fights.

We split into teams later, enchanted our boots for sliding, and played a sort of dodgeball on the frozen edges of the Black Lake. The aim? Shove someone as close to the open water as possible without actually dunking them. The older students helped by casting protective wards around the lake so no one fell in. Still, every time you slid toward the icy water, your heart raced, especially if the Giant Squid’s tentacles decided to surface for a stretch.

The older kids didn’t bother with any safeguards. Their game was more brutal—knocking each other into the water outright, relying on mates or magic to haul them back before they froze. Didn’t know Hogwarts could be so lively during the holidays.

The rest of the time, we explored the castle. At first, it was just idle wandering, but soon we got it into our heads to revisit the Beast Room and see if the troll was still down there.

Turns out, no troll—but I did find rolls of its skin stashed away. Very distinctive, all lumpy and rough. Harry didn’t mention it, probably to avoid upsetting me, but it’s no secret wizards see magical creatures as little more than potion ingredients. Bit grim, really.

The Beast Room itself was fuller than ever—loads of snakes and toads crammed into aquariums. There was even some weird creature in a tank, all wiry fingers and a human-like face. We didn’t stick around to study it, though. For all we knew, it could talk and land us in trouble.

Exploring the dungeons turned up all sorts of oddities. One dusty old lab caught my interest. It had charts of human and horse anatomy and notes on compatibility—proper intriguing stuff. Meanwhile, Harry was busy poking at weird contraptions.

Another room looked like a museum, full of skeletons and jars of preserved… bits. Definitely not human, but still creepy. Shame Dean, Seamus, and Neville weren’t with us. Well, maybe not Neville—this wasn’t his sort of thing.

We also stumbled upon a decrepit theatre. It had this ancient curtain half falling down and a wardrobe stuffed with old costumes and props. We mucked about, throwing on cloaks and pretending to duel until we were sneezing from the dust. Harry really outdid himself, though—he threw on a wig, a lady’s hat, and pranced about like Professor Vector. I nearly wet myself laughing.

Then there was a ritual room—pentagram on the floor, melted candles everywhere. When the candles flickered to life as we entered, we bolted without a second thought. Last thing we needed was to summon some demon by mistake.

The creepiest find? A spotless cell right next to the Beast Room, complete with polished chains on the walls. Judging by the birch rods soaking in a tub nearby, it was Filch’s personal domain. Bloke’s a proper nutter. We peeked inside the isolation chamber, too—stone walls, a grimy cot, and a barred door. Makes you wonder what punishments were like in the old days. Creepy stuff.

On the bright side, we discovered an old dueling hall. It was massive and mostly empty, though a bit damp and mossy. We thought that was the highlight—until we stumbled across a huge pool in the middle. Probably used for something, but who knows what?

"Maybe it’s some kind of ancient sports hall?" Harry suggested, his quiet words echoing against the stone walls. "You know, like fencing, wrestling, running, or something like that. I’ll have a look over there, Ron."

"Alright," I agreed, "but don’t touch anything—you never know."

"Got it," he replied, disappearing into the shadows.

On my side, near the pool, it was a bit brighter. The water below seemed to have its own faint glow, though it was murky and silted, or maybe it was the stone itself emitting a dim light. It lit up about two metres around me with a cold, eerie gleam. I couldn’t help but think about radiation or something worse.

One of the nearest pillars stretched high into the darkness above, its surface covered in golden runes, accented with glinting bits of coloured stone that shimmered faintly under my Lumos. When I stepped closer and poked at one of the "runes," I realised they weren’t runes at all but carvings of snakes or lizards intertwined in an intricate pattern, their gemstone eyes glinting menacingly. If this was a duelling or training hall, it was definitely designed for Slytherins. That thought barely crossed my mind before something distracted me.

"Ron, give me a hand. Light it up, right there," Harry called.

I followed his voice and the faint glow of his wand. He was standing by a heap of jagged stones.

"Up there—I saw an opening or a cave. I want to check it out," Harry explained, pointing. "See it? It’s glowing a bit. Keep your wand lit for me."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

He stuffed his wand into his pocket, rolled up his sleeves, and started climbing the rocks. Sure enough, about six metres above the floor, there was a dark hole, faintly illuminated around the edges like the pool below. Harry climbed nimbly and quickly disappeared into the gap, though he reappeared almost immediately.

"Nothing there," he grumbled, clearly annoyed. "Just a niche and a wall, that’s it. Waste of time."

With his Lumos on, he paced the small ledge a bit, peering at the walls. That’s when I saw it—a stone eye.

"What the bloody hell?" I muttered, my stomach tightening. "Harry, get down from there! I don’t like this."

"Alright, alright," he called back, preparing to climb down. "Wait a sec—there’s something written here," he added, squinting at the wall.

"What does it say?" I asked automatically, though every instinct I had was screaming to leg it.

"Hold on," Harry said, pressing closer to the wall, just out of sight. Then I froze—he was hissing. It took me a moment to realise it was Harry. The acoustics in the hall were perfect, and the hissing seemed to echo from everywhere, like every snake carved on the columns had suddenly come to life. Then it hit me.

My blood ran cold. "Lumos Maxima!" I bellowed. Bright light flooded the hall, revealing the heap of stones for what it really was: a massive statue of an old man. Harry was standing on its lower lip, which was twisted in a frozen scream.

"Have you lost your mind, Ron?" Harry snapped, shielding his eyes. "Nearly blinded me!"

"Get down here! Now!" I yelled, my voice breaking. Harry got the message—he’d never seen me this spooked. Without arguing, he began scrambling down.

But he wasn’t even halfway when a grinding noise echoed through the hall.

"Move it, Harry!" I shouted, panicking, and he leapt the last four metres, landing awkwardly. I managed to cushion his fall slightly with a weak shield charm, but now we were in pitch blackness.

Harry groaned as he rolled off the shield and hit the floor, winded. Meanwhile, I focused on the Path, willing it to take us somewhere safe.

A faint, ghostly light appeared on the stone floor, leading away from the hall. I grabbed Harry’s arm, not giving him a chance to recover, and we bolted.

Behind us, the grinding noise grew louder, followed by a dragging sound, like a heavy sack being hauled across the floor. We didn’t stick around to investigate. We ran through the hall, then through a dark maze of tunnels, until we stumbled into a brightly lit room, clutching our sides and gasping for air.

The sudden light blinded us, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw the entrance we’d come through sealing shut.

"Hey! This is the girls’ bathroom!" an indignant, high-pitched voice shrieked, startling us out of our wits. The ghost of a plain-looking girl, maybe thirteen or fifteen, floated out of a stall. "What are you two doing here?"

"Er… we wanted to meet you," I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. My brain wasn’t working after the fright. "You’re Myrtle, right? Hermione told me about you. Thought we’d wish you a Merry Christmas."

"Really?" The ghost seemed to blush—well, darken a little. "That’s… sweet."

"Yeah," I nodded, forcing a grin. "I’m Ron, and this is Harry."

"I’m Elizabeth," she said shyly. "Well, Merry Christmas to you too, boys."

"Merry Christmas," we chorused, inching towards the door.

"You’re leaving already?" she pouted, fiddling with a phantom spot on her chin. "I thought we could have a chat."

"Er… sure," I relented, plopping down on the floor and signalling Harry to do the same. Myrtle brightened—literally—and settled a few inches above the ground.

"Why don’t you tell us how you… you know, died?" I asked. Harry’s jaw dropped, but Myrtle perked up.

"Oh, you really want to know?" she gushed. "It was horrid. I was hiding in that stall from Olivia—she was mocking my new glasses," she added, giving Harry a pointed look that made him squirm. "Anyway, I was crying when I heard someone talking, but it was strange, like another language. I didn’t understand it, but one of them was definitely a boy. I came out to tell him to shove off and stop spying on the girls, and then… that’s it."

“Did it kill you?” Harry asked, horrified, as Myrtle flushed faintly again.

“Not exactly,” she admitted. “All I remember are these two massive, yellow eyes. Then it felt like I was being yanked and pulled along, almost like travelling by Floo. Next thing I knew, I was here.”

“Blimey,” I muttered, genuinely impressed. “That’s one heck of an adventure. But didn’t you see a light or something like that?”

“Oh, I did,” Myrtle nodded. “But I wanted to make that Hornby cow regret mocking my glasses. And… oh, she certainly did. I made sure of it.”

“Do you still see the light?” I asked curiously. It genuinely fascinated me, considering I’d never seen anything like that. One moment, I’d just… found myself in this body. Guess the afterlife’s different for everyone.

“Sometimes,” the ghost replied, looking a bit downcast. “But I try not to focus on it—it’s so… bright, if you get what I mean.”

“Well, that’s got to be a good sign, hasn’t it? Means there’s something wonderful waiting for you on the other side. Maybe now that you’ve sorted your unfinished business—got your revenge—you could give it a go? Who knows? Your family might be waiting for you. Or maybe a boyfriend. You’re a pretty girl, Myrtle, and let’s be honest, there aren’t exactly many young or good-looking ghosts around here to chat with—or go on dates or, I dunno, take a stroll with. Must get awfully dull.”

I couldn’t help but think, grimly, that if the war ever came, the castle might just end up with a fair few more young ghosts, much as it pained me to imagine.

“That’s true,” she admitted, her form darkening slightly, clearly upset. “It does get terribly lonely. But… I’m still too scared to leave. You’ll come back to visit me, though, won’t you?”

“Of course,” I promised easily. “Although, you know how it is with schoolwork—barely any time to breathe, let alone visit. And we’re not here forever, either. Just a few more years, then we’ll graduate. Anyway, thanks for the story, Myrtle. You’re a cracking storyteller. Take care, yeah? And if you ever decide to leave, call us—we’ll see you off.”

“You’ve lost the plot,” Harry blurted out as we headed back to the tower to change for dinner. “Why are you encouraging that miserable ghost?”

“Because,” I said matter-of-factly, “I think we’ve just stumbled onto the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. You know, the one Dobby mentioned? And Myrtle… well, I reckon she’s the poor victim that monster killed all those years ago.”

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, going pale as chalk. He stayed silent the rest of the way, shooting me increasingly worried looks.

“So, what do we do now?” he asked nervously after we’d changed and settled by the common room fire.

“No idea,” I admitted. “But you can tell me what exactly you were hissing back there by the statue.”

“Hissing?” Harry repeated, looking more alarmed by the second. “I wasn’t hissing!”

“You were,” I said firmly. “Don’t argue—I know what I heard.”

“How could I be hissing without realising it?” he said, utterly bewildered.

“It’s called Parseltongue—the snake language,” I explained. “Not everyone can understand it, you know. You were speaking it and clearly understood it yourself, but to me? Just sounded like hissing.”

“Snakes, really?” Harry looked puzzled for a moment before it hit him. “Oh… well, that makes sense, I guess. I did talk to a boa constrictor at the zoo once.”

“Exactly,” I said. “You hiss like a snake, and those carvings—snakes everywhere, from the walls to that pool. I reckon the monster in the Chamber is a bloody great ancient snake. So, what did you read?”

“Not much,” Harry stammered, clearly still rattled. “‘Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.’”

“Brilliant, Harry,” I said with a shaky laugh. “I think we just woke up the monster.”