"Mr. Smith, please explain why you did this?" Lockhart looked a little unhappy. After all, nobody likes being interrupted when they're putting on a performance.
"Uh, I saw that you were playing the werewolf battle very well, so I couldn't help but want to applaud, but I accidentally fired magic," Oden Smith quickly explained, quietly wiping a cold sweat. Making up a story in such a short amount of time wasn't easy.
"Ah, I can understand your excitement when you see my heroic figure, but I hope you don't do this again in the future. After all, there are so many students in the class, and it's not good for you to disrupt them like this." Lockhart turned around, adjusted his expression, and continued his performance.
Many boys secretly gave a thumbs-up to Oden's ability to talk his way out of things, but some girls glared at him with angry eyes. There were fools everywhere.
After class, Oden vented his frustration while discussing the day's homework (writing a poem—a flattering one, no less. What was Lockhart thinking?). Then, he walked into the library along with the crowd.
After finishing his homework, he started searching the bookshelves for anything related to basilisks.
Since basilisks were incredibly rare, there wasn't much written about them. Besides Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, which contained only a general introduction, other books merely mentioned them in passing. The only useful piece of information was found in a travelogue by a Greek wizard, which stated that the older a basilisk is, the harder it is to deal with.
But Oden already knew that. However, after reading through the entire travelogue, he noticed something interesting. According to the wizard's observations, while basilisks could understand Parseltongue, they still had the minds of beasts rather than humans.
This was good news. Fighting a beast was one thing; fighting an intelligent beast was another. Still, some matters required further investigation.
While most students were busy with homework, Oden slipped out of the library and headed toward Myrtle's bathroom. As soon as he pushed open the door, he saw Myrtle sitting on the sink.
"I know you—we met two days ago. But this is the girls' toilet; you shouldn't be here," Myrtle said as she noticed him.
"I'm here to see you," Oden said.
"See me?" Myrtle looked surprised. "You know, even though I'm dead, people still talk about me behind my back. No one ever considers that poor Myrtle has feelings. I'm not as well-liked as Nick, nor as friendly as the Fat Friar. Lianna and Barrow have their noble statuses, so..."
As she spoke, she suddenly floated closer and looked into Oden's eyes. "Why did you come to find me? Are you really not here to laugh at me?"
"This has nothing to do with laughing at you. It's just that only you know about this matter, so I had to come to you," Oden said sincerely.
"Really? Only I know?" Myrtle twirled in the air excitedly. "Ask away! If I know the answer, I'll tell you!"
"I don't mean to be insensitive, but I want to know exactly what happened when you died."
"Oh, it was dreadful," she said with relish, and her whole demeanor changed. It seemed nobody had ever asked her about it with such sincerity. "It happened right here. I died in this very toilet..."
Oden listened as she recounted her tragic end, skipping over the bullying part and getting straight to the moment of the attack.
"You really didn't see what attacked you?" he asked.
"No, I just remember seeing these terrifyingly large yellow eyes. My whole body froze, and then I just... drifted away..."
"Can you describe where you saw the eyes?"
"No problem."
Myrtle sat back on the toilet while Oden conjured two orbs of light to represent the basilisk's eyes, adjusting their positions based on her directions.
She remembered the moment vividly. After five or six minutes of repositioning, she finally nodded, confirming that the light orbs were in the correct place.
Using the knowledge he had gathered from the library and the distance between the eyes Myrtle described, Oden estimated the basilisk's size. Quickly, he pulled out a notebook and jotted down the measurements.
Myrtle peered over his shoulder. "Is this important?"
"Very important. It could be a matter of life or death," Oden replied as he wrote.
"Oh! I'm honored to help," she said, looking pleased. It was likely the first time she had received such attention.
As a thank-you, Oden conjured some soul chocolates on the spot and handed them to Myrtle.
"You made the food at Nick's banquet, didn't you? I only managed to grab one chicken wing—too many people around the table. Thank you for this! Come visit again!"
After saying goodbye, Oden found a secluded spot and opened a small portal to the Plants vs. Zombies world, tossing his notes inside. This data would help optimize the anti-basilisk equipment he had commissioned.
With that done, he returned to the common room, where everyone had gathered—not for homework, but to prepare banners for tomorrow's Gryffindor Quidditch match.
Oden's knowledge of One Hundred Common Potions Making proved useful as he created a magical, glittering textile dye that lasted only 36 hours (courtesy of the Weasley twins' ingredients). That way, they could paint banners on bedsheets without permanent damage.
After painting a roaring lion, Hermione enchanted it so that it let out an actual roar.
"This is a little trick I learned from the Fat Friar, isn't it clever?" she said to Oden after casting the spell.
"Seems like you learned a lot from ghosts yesterday," Oden noted.
"Yeah," Hermione nodded smugly. "I don't know why most wizards ignore them. They don't realize ghosts can be valuable sources of knowledge. When I spoke to them yesterday, I gained a ton of information—some of it even seemed lost to history."
"That's because your attitude moved them. Ghosts have been around for centuries; they can easily tell when someone is genuinely interested. Your thirst for knowledge touched them, so they shared with you. As far as I know, very few wizards have managed to learn from ghosts."
"So, I'm not just a bookworm who only reads," Hermione said with satisfaction.
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