"Who threw something at you?"
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, her tone urgent. "Do you know who it was?"
"I didn't see," Moaning Myrtle sobbed. "That nasty Peeves was chasing me, and I was so upset I wanted to hide back in the toilet... But as soon as I ran into the Girls' Lavatory, someone hit me on the head with a book and drove me out."
Professor Snape's mouth twitched slightly, and he muttered, "You're a ghost, why would you be afraid of someone hitting you with a book?"
The moment the words left his lips, he realized his mistake.
Moaning Myrtle's form puffed up, and she shrieked, "Yes, Moaning Myrtle isn't afraid of being hit! Come one, come all, throw things at Myrtle—"
"Muffliato!"
Snape flicked his wand, and her wailing instantly turned to a muted buzzing. She was still ranting, but no one could make out the words.
Robert glanced up momentarily, then returned his gaze to the floor, scanning for the book Myrtle mentioned.
"Ah, found it."
Following her vague directions, he spotted a black book tucked under the door near the wall's corner.
But what he saw stunned him.
It wasn't just any book—it was large, thick, and had the weight and size of a brick.
He stepped forward, picked it up, and flipped it over. A blond wizard beamed from the cover, his dazzling smile revealing eight shining teeth.
Emblazoned in golden script above the image: Magical Me.
...Why was Lockhart's book here?
Robert wasn't ready to give up. He quickly flipped through a few pages.
"Give it here," Professor Snape said abruptly, snatching the book from Robert's hands. "You just need to stay quiet and stop poking around."
Robert didn't argue. He had already confirmed it contained nothing out of the ordinary—just a standard Lockhart book.
With that, no new clues could be pulled from Moaning Myrtle. Everyone turned back to the Girls' Lavatory.
The space was small—nearly everything was visible. A fifty-inch snake would struggle to hide there, let alone a fifty-foot Basilisk.
"Dumbledore, could this be a mistake?" Professor McGonagall frowned.
She had already used the Revealing Charm, Anti-Concealment Charm, and Disillusionment Charm—all to no avail.
Dumbledore had just pulled back from inspecting a pipe in the corner when Robert's voice broke the silence. "Headmaster, was this lavatory ever reserved for Slytherin students?"
Robert stood next to a sink, his back turned.
"Not that I'm aware of," Dumbledore replied. "The Slytherin common room is in the dungeons. This lavatory is on the second floor and is open to everyone."
"Then the Slytherin students were rather inconsiderate—vandalizing the taps," Robert gestured to a bronze tap. "But this snake carving looks very lifelike."
Everyone turned to look. Sure enough, etched into the tap was a small snake.
"This tap never worked—not even when I was alive," Moaning Myrtle commented.
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. He moved over and inspected the tap thoroughly, even tapping the surrounding pipes with his wand.
Professor Snape, meanwhile, had turned his attention back to Robert, who was now behind McGonagall.
"What do you have in your hand!" he barked suddenly.
"Parchment, Professor," Robert held up a crumpled ball. "It must've fallen out of my pocket while I was searching. It's just some homework I did wrong this morning. Would you like to see it?"
Snape looked at the filthy parchment. Stains—possibly ink or something else—smudged its surface.
"Be careful," he said coldly, eyes locked with Robert's. "If a Basilisk really is on the loose, your curiosity could cost you dearly."
"Thank you for the warning, Professor," Robert replied, tucking the paper away.
Just then, Dumbledore spoke.
"Everyone, stand back."
Professor McGonagall quickly pulled Robert to the doorway.
Robert then witnessed something unbelievable.
The entire right half of the lavatory began to split open. The crack aligned perfectly with the tap bearing the snake carving.
A second cut followed. Then a third.
The sink and bronze taps shattered, and pipes behind the wall were yanked out forcefully.
Water burst from the pipes, but instead of flooding the floor, it gathered into a floating sphere in front of Dumbledore.
A moment passed—maybe a second, maybe a minute—before everything reverted. Pipes returned to their place, taps reformed, and the sink was whole again.
"Dumbledore..."
"One hundred points to Gryffindor," he said, cutting off Professor McGonagall. "Mr. Ollivander's sharp observation helped us locate a hidden secret passage. Without it, we might have missed the sign entirely."
"Then let's go in quickly," McGonagall said, drawing her wand.
"I cannot open the passage," Dumbledore shook his head.
"What?"
"This passage is protected by ancient, complex magic—integrated with the structure of Hogwarts itself," he explained. "Without the exact method, the only way to force entry would be to destroy the entire castle."
No one responded.
Destroy Hogwarts? That was unthinkable—and likely impossible.
But now that the entrance had been found, should they really give up?
"Why not ask our clever Mr. Ollivander," Snape said with an unmistakably mocking smile. "He fled from the second floor to the eighth during a Basilisk attack, correctly remembered this lavatory's location, and uncovered this hidden entrance when we had no other leads."
"Perhaps he has even more surprises for us—like the method of entry."
All eyes turned to Robert, even Moaning Myrtle.
Robert took his hand from his pocket. "I have a theory."
Snape's smile tightened.
"Why a snake?" Robert asked, looking at Snape. "Does this have to do with Slytherin? Or is it that someone from Slytherin is trying to kill me?"
"Nonsense!" Snape snapped. "Baseless accusations—one hundred points from Gryffindor, and detention!"
"Then, Professor, can you explain the snake symbol?" Robert stepped subtly behind McGonagall. "As Head of Slytherin, shouldn't you be able to open the entrance?"
Snape looked ready to explode.
But Robert wasn't finished.
"Maybe the person who wants me dead... isn't a student."
"Enough!" Snape roared, reaching out to grab him.
If not a student, then who? Only a Professor matched the Slytherin identity. It was practically an accusation.
Before Snape's hand reached him, McGonagall intercepted.
"Severus, do you know what you're doing?"
She didn't actually believe Snape had released a Basilisk to kill a student—it was absurd. But Robert's logic couldn't be ignored.
Snakes were Slytherin's symbol. To deny the connection to this passage was implausible.
"Minerva, Robert," Dumbledore stepped between them. "I believe Severus had nothing to do with this. Just as I believe in you."
To everyone's surprise, Robert quickly apologized.
"I'm sorry, Professor Snape. I misunderstood you."
He stepped aside, quiet once more.
Of course, he didn't believe Snape was behind the Basilisk. He only wanted to provoke him for information.
He couldn't outright tell Dumbledore this was the Chamber of Secrets—or suggest bringing Harry Potter, who could open it by speaking Parseltongue.
Originally, he considered it. Let the professors and Dumbledore handle the Basilisk. He even had an excuse lined up.
The ancient Ollivander family—surely they had some arcane secrets?
But the piece of parchment hidden in the tap changed his mind.
Still, this much was probably enough.
Now, Dumbledore and the professors knew the Basilisk's nature, the entrance to the Chamber, and that its opening was linked to Slytherin.
Wasn't that as good as laying out the answer?
Well—almost. The answer still required flipping through a metaphorical book.
But Dumbledore could surely manage that.
If the Basilisk could still appear under Dumbledore's watch after tonight, Robert figured he might as well retire and travel the world with his Phoenix.
Speaking of which—could Dumbledore truly not open the entrance?
Robert glanced over. Dumbledore was talking to Professor Flitwick. Snape stood nearby, still staring at Robert darkly.
So petty. After all that, Robert had more right to be angry—nearly killed by a Basilisk, interrogated, then threatened.
Professor McGonagall approached and suggested he be taken to the School Hospital.
Robert didn't refuse this time. His arm was still broken. Though bandaged, it throbbed painfully.
Madam Pomfrey reset and rewrapped it within a minute.
It didn't require hospitalization, but McGonagall insisted he stay—his recovery from the Petrification Curse had been... unusual.
So, he spent the night in the hospital.
Late at night, after McGonagall and Pomfrey had left, Robert took out the crumpled, damp piece of paper.
It looked torn from a notebook. Though blank now, Robert felt like he could still see what had been written thirty minutes earlier.
You really know this place.
Will you tell Dumbledore you are a Seer who glimpses the future?
Dumbledore's greatest enemy was also a Seer. Do you think he'll stay indifferent?
Looking forward to our meeting.
T.M. Riddle
Why did Riddle know him? Why call him a Seer?
Robert didn't understand. But he had noticed something—Dumbledore's gaze had subtly changed after he found the secret passage.
Still, it wasn't enough to call him a Seer.
But Riddle seemed so sure. How did he know Robert?
More questions flooded Robert's mind.
He borrowed a quill and ink, drew a line across the paper. The ink spread slowly through the water stain but didn't vanish. No other words appeared.
Useless. The paper wasn't enchanted for two-way communication.
Still, one thing was clear:
Looking forward to our meeting felt like a provocation.
Riddle—or whoever was behind this—wasn't done. The Basilisk hadn't attacked for the last time.
"But what more can you do?" Robert whispered, clutching the yellowed parchment. "Dumbledore knows. The entrance is found. Myrtle confirmed someone's controlling the Basilisk."
What tricks were left?
Though he didn't understand how or why Riddle knew him, the gauntlet had been thrown.
If it was a challenge—Robert accepted.
This wasn't over.
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