The Tenth Weasley - CH - 57

The entire school buzzed with whispers and speculation after the ominous message appeared on the wall.

No one could ignore it.

No one felt safe.

Every student, whether pureblood or Muggle-born, wanted to know—

What exactly was the Chamber of Secrets?

The Hogwarts library became the busiest place after classes.

Students from all houses searched through ancient tomes, hoping to find something concrete.

But the truth was, very little was known.

From what they gathered—

The Chamber of Secrets was rumored to have been built by Salazar Slytherin himself.

Slytherin supposedly hid a monster inside the chamber.

He believed only purebloods should study magic, and the chamber would be opened one day to rid Hogwarts of Muggle-borns.

Fifty years ago, the Chamber had been opened—

A student had died.

And then, it was never spoken of again.

Even during lessons, the students couldn’t stop talking about it.

In History of Magic, Professor Binns, the ghost teacher, was finally asked about the chamber.

To everyone’s surprise, he actually responded.

“The Chamber of Secrets is a myth,” Binns droned. “A ridiculous fairytale with no historical evidence.”

“But what if it’s real?” A Ravenclaw student pressed.

“It is nonsense,” Binns waved a transparent hand. “Hogwarts was founded by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. They built the castle together.”

“But there was a fight, right?” Blaise muttered under his breath.

Binns sighed.

“Yes. Salazar Slytherin disagreed with the other founders. He wanted to admit only pureblood students. He left the school. Some say he created a hidden chamber. But there is no proof.”

“So, the writing on the wall and the petrified cat are fake?” A Gryffindor challenged.

Binns hesitated.

Then vanished into the blackboard, saying no more.

The lack of answers only made the rumors worse.

Some said the monster inside the chamber was already hunting Muggle-borns.

Others swore that the Heir of Slytherin was among them, waiting to strike.

Slytherin students were now watched with suspicion by the rest of the school.


Draco Malfoy enjoyed the attention, sneering, “Maybe the Heir of Slytherin will deal with certain people soon.”

The mini-Marauders—Charlie, Ron, and Neville—were determined to figure out who the Heir was.

And Harry?

He was watching.

Because, deep down, he knew—

There was truth in legends.

The only person excited about the Chamber of Secrets fiasco was, unsurprisingly, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart.

While the rest of Hogwarts was on edge—Lockhart thrived.

To him, this was not a crisis, but an opportunity.

A story waiting to be written.

It didn’t take long before Lockhart began bragging about his next big book:

"Gilderoy Lockhart and the Discovery of the Chamber of Secrets."

He already envisioned the cover—

Himself, dressed in heroic robes, standing atop the defeated monster.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, and the Minister of Magic cheering in the background.

He described the plot in detail to anyone unlucky enough to listen—

How he alone would unravel the mystery.

How he alone would face the deadly beast.

And how he alone would defeat it effortlessly and save Hogwarts.

Lockhart’s lectures were no longer about defense—

They were glorified brainstorming sessions for his new book.

Every time a student was unfortunate enough to cross paths with Lockhart, they were forced to listen to his many theories about what the monster in the Chamber could be.

“A troll the size of a dragon!”

“A giant enchanted spider with venom that can dissolve bones in seconds!”

“A nundu-like beast, which, of course, I could tame with a mere glance!”

Harry suffered the most.

Because he still had to pretend to be Lockhart’s biggest fan.

Aside from concocting absurd creatures, Lockhart also enjoyed pointing fingers at who the Heir of Slytherin might be.

First, he suspected Snape—

“A suspicious man if there ever was one! Always lurking in the shadows!”

Then, he considered Dumbledore—

“Wouldn’t that be a twist! What a brilliant chapter that would make!”

At one point, he even suggested himself—

“Perhaps I am the Heir of Slytherin! It would explain why I am so remarkably talented!”

Blaze and Daphne nearly choked laughing.

Harry, meanwhile, had to sit through long-winded rants about Lockhart’s “destined role” in solving this mystery.

Despite all of this, Harry continued his act—

Why?

Because Lockhart was useful.

He was an idiot, but a high-ranking idiot.

He had access to things Harry wanted.

And manipulating Lockhart was far too easy.


So Harry sat through hours of nonsense, nodding along, pretending to be enthralled.

Even as Lockhart’s grand delusions grew more ridiculous by the day—

Harry kept playing along.

Harry's life at Hogwarts took a sharp turn for the worse after the Chamber of Secrets was opened.

Why?

Because now, Dumbledore was watching him closely—far too closely.

One evening, Harry was summoned to the Headmaster’s office.

Dumbledore greeted him kindly, offering tea and a bowl of strange lemon drops.

Harry, of course, refused.

Then, the questioning began—

“Harry, do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?”

“Have you heard anything from your peers?”

“Perhaps you've... seen something unusual?”


Harry kept his face blank and his answers vague.

No, sir.

I only know what the other students know.

I have no idea what is happening.


But the way Dumbledore studied him—his piercing blue eyes filled with quiet suspicion—made it clear.

He didn’t believe Harry.

Dumbledore’s sudden scrutiny was not subtle.

Even other professors and students started noticing.

Why is Harry Weasley being called to the Headmaster’s office so often?

Why does Dumbledore always seem to be watching him?

What is he hiding?

Then, the rumors began.

And Hogwarts students, never ones to keep their mouths shut, speculated wildly.

First, they connected two events together:

Filch had accused Harry of attacking Mrs. Norris.

Dumbledore now suspected Harry of knowing something about the Chamber of Secrets.

So naturally, the rumors took an absurd turn.

"Harry Weasley is the Heir of Slytherin."

At first, it was just whispers in the corridors.

Then, it spread like wildfire.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"He is the first Weasley in Slytherin. Maybe there's a reason for that."

"Maybe the Sorting Hat knew he was special."

"Maybe he’s hiding his true bloodline!"

The Gryffindors were the worst, especially since most of his family was in Gryffindor.

"How can a Weasley be the Heir of Slytherin? Weasleys are muggle lovers"

"Maybe he’s not a real Weasley at all!"

The Slytherins were divided.

Some loved the idea of Harry being the true heir of their house.

Others resented it, especially Draco Malfoy, who had loudly declared,

"A Weasley as the Heir of Slytherin? That’s an insult to Salazar himself!"

Even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs whispered about it in the hallways.

Harry, however, ignored it all.

Because the truth was—

The only opinion that truly mattered was Dumbledore’s.

And Dumbledore clearly suspected something.

That made Harry dangerous.

And dangerous people didn’t last long at Hogwarts.


Harry’s life was already complicated enough with Dumbledore breathing down his neck and the rumors about him being the Heir of Slytherin spreading like wildfire.

But now?

Now, his family was making it worse.

It started with a letter from Mom and Dad.

Then another.

Then another.

By the end of the week, he was getting letters almost every day.

Each one said nearly the same thing.

Harry, dear, are you alright? We heard about the Chamber of Secrets. Do you know anything? Have you seen anything? Please be careful. – Mum


Son, if anything happens, you can always come to us. If you ever feel unsafe, we’ll get you out of there in a second. Just send a letter back. – Dad


Harry could practically hear Mom’s worried voice in every sentence.

And Dad's? He was being diplomatic. He didn’t ask outright, but the message was clear—

“Are you involved in this?”


Then, Bill and Charlie started writing.

Bill’s letters were the longest, full of logic and reasoning.

Harry, listen. I know how Hogwarts can be. When something bad happens, people always look for a scapegoat. Don't let them make you one.
If you need to talk, write to me.


Charlie’s letter was shorter but just as concerned.

Oi, Harry, don’t let idiots get to you. I heard from Ron about the rumors. Tell me who’s talking rubbish, and I’ll set them straight.


Bill was worried about Hogwarts turning on him.

Charlie? He was ready to fight.

Harry appreciated both of them, but the letters just added to the weight on his shoulders.


And then, the Porters started sending letters.

Which was even worse.

Lily’s letters were full of guilt.

Harry, sweetheart, please write back. I know we’re not the parents you want, but we still care about you. You’re our son, no matter what. Please tell me if you’re alright. I’m worried sick.


James’ letters were clumsy and awkward.

Hey, kid. Uh, look, I know things have been… tense. But if you ever need anything, we’re here. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but—yeah. Take care, okay?


Even Sirius Black wrote to him.

Harry, Dumbledore has his suspicions, but that doesn’t mean he’s right. I know what it’s like to be judged because of your house. If you ever need to get away, I’ve got an empty place where you can stay.


Harry barely knew Sirius, but the letter almost made him laugh.

Sirius Black offering him a place to hide?

It was ridiculous.

At first, he ignored the letters.

Then he stopped reading them altogether.

Why?

Because they all asked the same thing.

Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?

Are you okay?

Are you turning Dark?

Harry wasn't stupid.

His family didn't trust him.

They feared he was walking down a dark path.

Ever since they found his Dark Arts books.

Ever since they learned he was a Parselmouth.

And now?

Now, they were all waiting for him to slip up.

Harry clenched his fists.

He wasn't evil.

He wasn't the heir of Slytherin.

But the more people pushed him, the more they doubted him, the more isolated he felt.

And deep down…

A small, dark voice whispered:

"If they already see you as a Dark Wizard… then why not become one?"


It started as a whisper.

Then a rumor.

Then suddenly, the entire school was talking about it.

Harry Weasley wasn’t really a Weasley.

And just like that, the thin shield of protection that came with the Weasley name shattered.

Before, people hesitated to openly suspect him.

Why?

Because the Weasleys were the golden family of the Light.

They were the definition of good.
They stood against blood purity.
They had no interest in the Dark Arts.

Harry wasn’t just any Slytherin.

He was a Weasley in Slytherin.

That alone made most people pause before assuming the worst about him.

But now?

Now that everyone knew he was adopted?

That he wasn’t a true Weasley?

That tiny, invisible shield of protection was gone.

The first person to ask was a Ravenclaw prefect.

"Harry, is it true? Were you adopted?"


Then a Hufflepuff girl.

"But if you're not a real Weasley, then who are you?"


Then a Slytherin fifth-year.

"If you're not a Weasley… are you the Heir of Slytherin?"


It was the final question that made Harry pause.

The truth was simple.

Harry did know his real parents.

He knew exactly who he was before he was a Weasley.

He was Harry Potter.

Son of James and Lily Potter.

Twin of Charlie Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

The child his parents abandoned.

The child who had been left to rot at the Dursleys.

But if that truth came out?

It wouldn’t just ruin him.

It would destroy the Porters.

Lily Potter, the perfect mother? A woman who abandoned her own son?

James Potter, the beloved war hero? A man who decided his second son wasn’t worth keeping?

Charlie Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived? A hero who never even knew he had a twin?

If people found out?

The Potter family name would be ruined.

And Rose and Charlie—who had nothing to do with their parents' decision—would be dragged into the mess.

Harry hated James and Lily.

But he wouldn’t punish Rose and Charlie for something they never did.

So he made his decision.

The next time someone asked, Harry spoke clearly.

"Yes, I was adopted by the Weasleys."


"No, I don’t know who my birth parents are."


"No, I am not the Heir of Slytherin."


It was a half-truth.

One he would stick with until the day he died.

His answer relieved Rose and Charlie.

They knew—if Harry had told the full truth, their family would be ruined.

But even though his lie protected the Porters… it didn’t protect him.

Now that his Weasley name wasn’t real, Hogwarts looked at him differently.

Some believed him.

Some didn’t.

And now, more than ever, the rumor that Harry Weasley—no, just Harry—was the Heir of Slytherin…

Spread like wildfire.