The morning after the oddest conversation Daphne had ever had found her entering the empty Arithmancy classroom a full thirty minutes before class was to start. She had made it a habit to arrive early to this class for the last two years, using the time for a quick review of the prior week's lesson. The concepts and way of thinking behind the art of Arithmancy were so different than her other classes the extra refresher was helpful to keep pace with Granger. With her pedestrian scores in Defence it was essential she excel in all her other classes if she wanted to keep pace with the Gryffindor. That Ravenclaw Patil was annoyingly intelligent and ambitious as well.

Her normal review would not be happening today, however. After taking her customary seat in the front ("Always exude confidence in the large and most importantly the small things", her mother had drilled into her head) she quickly pulled out a blank parchment and self-inking quill, setting to work.

Harry had caught her off guard the night before. Although he had promised to be honest in his note her years as a Slytherin and her father's training had taught her that it was at best a half-truth. He would assuredly tell the truth, he was a Gryffindor after all, but she had expected to have to pry the important bits out...to have to trick and charm him into telling her what she wanted to know...to engage in a manipulative dance to get answers out of him that he didn't want to provide. She could not have been more wrong. He had freely told her what she needed to hear to gain her trust. The two hours they spent talking flew by in what felt like a quarter of that time and by the time they left Hurricane Potter had won her over seemingly without really trying. She had expected a chess match and Harry insisted on playing checkers.

It turns out he is exceptionally good at checkers.

Since the need for finesse was out she decided to be practical and simply make a list of questions for tonight after she saw the Chamber. After she saw the Chamber...she had repeated the words in her head too many times to count since last night and it still didn't seem possible. She was sure the story of what happened in the Chamber would be much more mundane than the rumors she had heard (she was very confident Harry did not have the head of the Gorgon he had slain mounted over his bed) but just the fact that he found and entered the Chamber was beyond impressive.

'Dammit, Daphne' she muttered to herself for becoming distracted from her task again. 'Stop daydreaming,' she commanded as she set to work.

First Year: Did he really kill a troll with the Sword of Gryffindor? Why did he and his friends win so many house points at the end of first year? Did he say something was growing on Quirrel?

Second Year: What happened? Is he the heir of Slytherin? Why did he try to kill Finch Fletchley with the snake? What happened to Lockhart?

Third Year: Can he really produce a Patronus? Did he really kill Sirius Black with the Sword of Gryffindor?

Fourth Year: How did he get away from You Know Who in fourth-year? Did he secretly date the Veela contestant? Is he really soul bound with the Veela contestant's sister?

Fifth Year: Why did he have a hearing at the Ministry before fall term? What happened at the Ministry...did he really fight You Know Who? What was the D.A? Why wasn't I invited?

Sixth Year: Why does he stare at Draco so much?

She had just finished writing down her last question (Why does Snape hate him?) and was stowing away her parchment as a voice cleared behind her. She looked up to the smiling face of Hermione Granger. "Mind if I sit here?" she asked as she sat down without waiting for an answer.

Daphne looked around the classroom and noticed every other seat was still available and immediately became suspicious. While she and Granger were cordial, even friendly with each other, they never sat together. Something was definitely going on.

Ninety minutes later her Arithmancy instruction was finished and she could not recall one thing that was covered. She had spent the entire session waiting for Granger to do something...anything. To Daphne's utter confusion she had done nothing. No furtive glances, no notes passed, no hushed instructions...just a polite smile and 'Goodbye' as she packed up her notes and left the classroom. Were all Gryffindors this confusing or was it just Harry and the ones he hung out with?

It's a funny thing about standing outside a toilet. If you think you may need to use it...at all...the need increases exponentially knowing relief is so close. She had met Moaning Myrtle in her first year and had vowed never to visit this particular toilet ever again. A group of third-year Slytherins had sent her there as a joke and she was subjected to Myrtle...well there was no better word for it...moaning how unfair it was that Daphne was alive and that she was dead. 'She's probably in the pipes somewhere else in the castle' she convinced herself as the insistent needs of her bladder won out against her desire to avoid the ghost.

It wasn't until she was exiting the stall that she was greeted by the toilet's permanent resident. "Come back to gloat I see," she said piteously.

"Pardon?" Daphne replied, attempting to hide her own displeasure at meeting Myrtle again. "Gloating about what?"

"The fact that you're still alive of course. Well, you've made your point so you can go now!" she spit out through her quickly forming tears.

Daphne rolled her eyes as she washed her hands and responded. "As much as I'd love to I'm actually meeting someone here. We're going to visit the Chamber of Secrets. I've got bad news for you though... he's alive too."

Myrtle immediately stopped crying and became unnaturally happy. "Harry is coming soon?"

"The one and only. How do you enter from here anyway?"

The ghost became suspicious and glared at Daphne. "How do I know you aren't trying to trick me?"

Daphne opened her mouth to respond when she heard a voice come from the doorway. "It's okay Myrtle she's telling the truth. How are you doing?"

Myrtle's expression immediately softened as she responded. "Hello, Harry. Why haven't you come to see me lately? It's been so long!"

"Sorry about that Myrtle. Err...I never thanked you properly for your help in the lake did I? Thanks, you really were a big help."

If it was possible for a ghost to blush Myrtle did. 'Even the dead have a crush on him', Daphne mused as she saw Harry move toward the sink.

Harry looked confused as he spoke, "I thought I said to wear old clothes? It really is foul down there."

Her defensive nature kicked in at the perceived scolding and she responded without thinking. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "These are old. Some of us just choose not to wear rags on a regular basis." She immediately regretted it.

"My mistake," he muttered with a look of disappointment and embarrassment as Myrtle joined in the conversation.

"I don't like her very much Harry. Why would you want to show her the Chamber?"

He turned to Myrtle and smiled. "She's all right Myrtle...just a bit...jaded." The smile vanished as he turned back to Daphne. "Are you ready?"

She hadn't meant it...not really. Things had gone so well last night. She should have known he didn't mean his question as an insult. And no one would choose to wear the clothes he wore. There had to be a reason. She mentally berated herself for falling into the easy play of insulting someone to prove you are their 'better.'

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Are you ready?" he asked more insistently. "We should get going."

He waited for her nod, turned to the sinks, and began to hiss.

'That will always sound creepy' she thought as she watched, to her amazement, the sink opening up and revealing an entrance. 'I'm really going to see the Chamber of Secrets' she thought to herself as the sink finished creaking open.

Daphne tentatively looked into the new opening to reveal a massive, quite disgusting, pipe. The smell alone did not bode well for what they would find on the other end. She turned back to Harry and realized for the first time that he was holding a broom.

"You have two options", he began clinically, "You can ride on the broom with me and I will do my best to avoid the filth on our way down or you can just slide. Sliding is perfectly safe..that's how we did it last time."

She didn't have to think even a moment before responding. "Broom," she said while looking at the opening and making a face, "definitely the broom." As she mounted the broom and wrapped her arms around Harry the resident ghost interjected.

"My offer still stands, Harry," she said shyly. "If anything should happen and you die down there you are welcome to share my toilet."

The shy sweetness then left her face as she frowned and turned toward Daphne. "Not her though. She reminds me of Olive."

Daphne had no idea who Olive was but she was fairly certain it was not a compliment. "Never fear. If I die I'll make sure to set up residence in one of the seventh-floor toilets...much better view of the grounds."

"Smart," she heard Harry comment with a chuckle and she smiled, thankful that she'd been able to lighten the mood at least a little bit.

Harry then turned to Myrtle with a smile to rival Gilderoy Lockhart. "Myrtle, would you try to make sure no one comes in here until we come back? I'd really appreciate it. And if I...umm...you know...die...this toilet will be first on my list of places to haunt...with you." Daphne got the impression that this charm...this magnetism...came naturally to Harry and he wasn't even trying. Much.

Myrtle responded as any girl with the maturity of a thirteen-year-old would having a sixteen-year-old Harry Potter flirt with her. The fact that Myrtle had been waiting over 50 years for someone to flirt with her only added to the impact. Her translucent mouth dropped open as she dumbly nodded and slowly floated toward the entrance...never taking her eyes off of Harry.

With the ghostly guard now at her post Harry and Daphne slowly began the descent down the pipe. True to his word he did his level best to avoid touching the pipe. As well as he did she was certain she would never wear the shoes she had on again due to the muck and filth accumulating with each bump. There was a reason her parents had nicknamed her 'Princess' as a child and as much as she hated to admit it it was appropriate.