In an empty classroom on the fourth floor of Hogwarts.
The four quartet, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Sherlock gathered together.
Hermione cleared her throat, glanced at her three companions, and began to speak.
"Using the clues 'fifty years ago,' 'Special Award for Services to the School,' 'Slytherin prefect,' and 'Tom Riddle' as search terms, I've uncovered quite a bit of information. Let me summarize what I found.
Tom Marvolo Riddle, born December 31st, 1926, half-blood wizard, registered address was an orphanage..."
"Oh, how pitiful!"
"I'd rather have grown up in an orphanage myself."
"Shut up, you two!"
Hermione glared disapprovingly at Harry and Ron before continuing.
"In 1938—fifty-five years ago—Tom Riddle entered Hogwarts and was sorted into Slytherin House.
His performance at school was exceptional. Besides the prefect position and Special Award that Sherlock mentioned, I found he also received the Award for Special Services to the School and appeared on the Head Boy list."
"Prefect, Head Boy, probably top of every class too... Bloody hell, you know what? This bloke reminds me of Percy."
"The way you say that makes it sounds like a bad thing."
Hermione said irritably, "And Ronald, stop interrupting me.
As you said, Tom Riddle, like your brother Percy, was one of the rare students to earn twelve O.W.L. certificates—and his grades were all Outstanding, which makes him even more impressive than Percy.
No, actually, I've never heard of anyone advancing to seventh year with Outstanding marks in every single exam. It's incredibly difficult!
In 1945, Tom Riddle graduated from school, and after that, there are no further records of anyone by that name.
This is rather strange. You'd expect such an outstanding student to join the Ministry of Magic.
Even if he didn't join the Ministry, he should have made remarkable achievements elsewhere.
In any case, he shouldn't have faded into obscurity like this."
After finishing, Hermione looked toward Sherlock and noticed he had at some point clasped his hands under his chin, deep in thought.
Fortunately, after only a moment, Sherlock spoke.
"Let's continue with the other matters."
Hermione tried to read something from Sherlock's expression.
However, after trying, she realized she still lacked Sherlock's keen observational abilities, and could only shake her head in disappointment, abandoning the attempt.
She flipped her notebook to the second page and became excited again.
"Myrtle Warren!
Sherlock, you were right. If Professor Dumbledore had told us this name earlier, we really could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble.
Because Myrtle Warren's full name is Myrtle Elizabeth Warren, and in 1943—fifty years ago—she was a Ravenclaw student."
After saying this, she looked directly at Harry.
Harry felt somewhat uncomfortable under Hermione's expectant gaze and said uneasily.
"Hermione, you're looking at me as if I should know this girl."
"Harry, you do know her—not only that, but you've actually met her," Hermione said triumphantly.
"What?!"
Harry and Ron were stunned by Hermione's words.
"I... I've met a student who was killed fifty years ago? How is that possible, unless... unless..."
Harry stammered "unless" for a long time but couldn't think of a suitable explanation.
"Unless she became a ghost."
Sherlock said quietly.
"Oh, don't do that, Sherlock! I wanted to surprise them!" Hermione said somewhat displeased. "That's what they get for constantly interrupting me."
With Sherlock's hint, Harry suddenly realized.
Apart from Nearly Headless Nick and the annoying Peeves, there was only one ghost he could claim to have had any real conversation with—at the deathday party.
"Hermione, are you talking about... Moaning Myrtle?"
"Bingo!"
Hermione snapped her fingers.
"Moaning Myrtle is Myrtle Warren from fifty years ago!
If I'd known earlier that the victim from fifty years ago was her, I would have gone straight to her to question her about the killer!
It might have taken some time, though—you know how temperamental she is."
At this point, Hermione smiled again. "But now, that's no longer necessary."
"Why not?"
Harry and Ron asked urgently.
Hermione glanced at Sherlock. "Because the truth is now crystal clear."
She turned to the third page of her notebook.
"The Basilisk is a giant serpent, also known as the King of Serpents.
It's an artificially bred magical creature, classified by the Ministry of Magic at the highest level—XXXXX—the same category as Hagrid's Acromantula and the troll we once encountered."
After saying this, seeing that Harry and Ron seemed not to have caught on yet, she simply read aloud another passage.
"'Many fearsome beasts and monsters roam our land, but none is more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk.
This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, incubated beneath a toad.'"
"A chicken's egg? Do you mean an egg laid by a hen after it undergoes sex reversal to become a rooster?"
"Sex reversal?"
Hermione looked puzzled.
Clearly, Sherlock's comment had touched upon a gap in her knowledge.
"Yes, sex reversal—when a functional male or female individual transforms into the opposite sex.
For example, when a flock has no rooster, the strongest hen will gradually change sex to become a rooster."
Harry, Hermione, and Ron listened in stunned silence.
A hen turning into a rooster?
This... this seemed utterly preposterous!
Ron couldn't help but ask. "Sherlock, is this... is this knowledge from the wizarding world or the Muggle world?"
"This is common knowledge, my friend."
"..."
'I shouldn't have asked!'
Only Hermione pondered for a moment and nodded.
"Perhaps... you're right.
The first recorded Basilisk was bred by Herpo the Foul.
He was a Greek Dark wizard who could speak Parseltongue, and one of the earliest known Dark wizards.
To this day, many of his studies still influence Dark Magic.
After many experiments, he discovered that placing a chicken's egg under a toad would hatch a dangerous serpent with extraordinary abilities.
His chicken's egg was quite possibly obtained through the 'sex reversal' method you just described."
"Sorry for interrupting. Please continue."
"Of course, Sherlock."
Looking at the pleasant Hermione, Harry and Ron exchanged glances, looking helpless.
So, Sherlock can interrupt, but we can't?
"The Basilisk grows to enormous size, up to fifty feet in length, with dark green skin and yellow eyes.
The scales on its skin have strong magical resistance and can deflect spells.
Like other snakes, the Basilisk periodically sheds its skin as it grows.
The Basilisk's danger lies in its venom—this deadly poison can kill a person within minutes.
Even five years after the Basilisk itself has died, its venom can still destroy inanimate objects beyond repair.
However, compared to its massive body, magically resistant hide, and nearly incurable venom, the most terrifying aspect of the Basilisk is its eyes."
Here, Hermione paused before continuing.
"The Basilisk's gaze can instantly kill any person or animal that makes eye contact with it—anyone who meets its stare will die immediately.
Spiders greatly fear this creature and consider it their mortal enemy, even refusing to speak its name.
Meanwhile, the Basilisk will flee in terror upon hearing a rooster's crow, as the rooster's call is also deadly to it."
As soon as Hermione finished speaking, Ron jumped up. "I understand! The monster in the Chamber is a Basilisk!"
He gripped Harry's arm tightly, saying excitedly.
"No wonder only you could hear its voice—because you're a Parselmouth!
Hagrid's Acromantula were afraid to speak its name because the Basilisk is the natural enemy of spiders.
All the roosters in the school died because someone didn't want the Basilisk to hear their calls!"
Compared to the excited Ron, Harry appeared much calmer. He looked curiously at Sherlock.
"So, when you asked me earlier if I'd noticed any spiders, you already knew?"
"Actually, I had suspicions even earlier."
"Earlier? When?"
"Christmas," Sherlock said calmly. "Mycroft gave me the inspiration."
"That's right, I was there at the time."
Hermione, who had been nearby, puffed out her small chest proudly.
After Ron's excitement subsided, he couldn't help asking.
"But how could a Basilisk crawl around attacking people? At fifty feet long, it would be impossible not to be seen!"
"Pipes."
"Pipes?"
Ron didn't understand immediately.
But Harry got it. "Because it's been moving through the pipes! That's why I always heard that voice coming from within the walls!
To think of even that—Hermione, you're absolutely brilliant!"
Hermione glanced somewhat embarrassedly at Sherlock.
"It was all thanks to Sherlock pointing me in the right direction. Only then could I follow that path to find the clues. Before that, I was completely at sea."
"Don't sell yourself short, my dear Hermione."
Sherlock said calmly, "At least I never mentioned the pipes—you discovered that yourself."
"Well, thanks for the consolation!"
Hermione said sarcastically.
Sherlock was like a teacher who had worked out a problem and calculated it down to the second-to-last step, then only asked you to write out the final calculation process and result.
Having already determined that the monster in the Chamber was a Basilisk, plus the fact that every time Harry heard the voice it came from within the walls—if she still couldn't think of pipes, she might as well be dead.
Wait a minute—hold on!
Hermione suddenly looked at Ron.
She suddenly felt that Sherlock was right.
Not everyone could figure this out without hints from others.
Ron: (¬_¬)
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