Harry returned to the dormitory in a daze, quickly drawing Ron's attention.
"What's wrong? Did Malfoy beat you up again?"
"Worse than that," Harry said weakly, collapsing onto his bed.
Ron's imagination ran wild, his expression turning peculiar.
"What exactly happened?"
Glancing at Seamus and Neville, who were catching up on homework, Harry hesitated for a moment before pulling Ron out of their dormitory into a secluded corner.
"I'm a Parselmouth."
"What?!" Ron exclaimed loudly.
"Keep your voice down!" Harry had anticipated this reaction, which was precisely why he'd brought him outside.
"Sorry."
Ron immediately lowered his voice upon realising his outburst. "You're really a Parselmouth?"
"It's true." Harry nodded gloomily. "Wayne conjured loads of snakes for me to experiment with. I could actually understand them and even command them."
"Though it only works sometimes."
Through Malfoy's explanations, he'd learned what being a Parselmouth represented.
That's exactly why he felt so wretched.
"That's brilliant!" Ron said excitedly. "Only gifted wizards are born with Parseltongue, like Salazar Slytherin."
"You don't understand." Harry waved his hand irritably.
This was precisely what troubled him.
Voldemort. Snape. Malfoy.
The three people Harry hated and despised most in his life all came from Slytherin House, which had given him an extremely poor impression of the entire house - an instinctive revulsion, really.
Harry had almost forgotten that during his sorting ceremony, the Sorting Hat's first suggestion hadn't been Gryffindor, but Slytherin.
But when he discovered he was actually a Parselmouth, these memories resurfaced in his mind.
Ron, assuming Harry was worried about being linked to the Chamber of Secrets because of his Parseltongue ability, also nodded.
"Then be careful. Don't let it slip."
"I know," Harry replied absentmindedly. "Wayne won't blab, but I can't control Malfoy."
...
Meanwhile, in Dumbledore's office.
Several professors had been summoned. When they learned a Basilisk might be living within the school, Professor McGonagall nearly fainted.
"Albus, you're not joking, are you?"
"Minerva, this is no laughing matter. Though if you'd like a joke, I do have a rather good one—"
"Dumbledore!" Professor McGonagall shouted angrily. "Is this really the time?"
The other Heads of House twitched their lips.
Having such a Headmaster was truly something else.
"Don't be angry, Minerva. I merely wished to ease your tension. Fear and nerves solve nothing."
Professor McGonagall glared at him sharply. "Are you certain there's really a Basilisk in the school? If it were truly left by Slytherin, that would mean it's been here a thousand years."
"Even a Basilisk couldn't live that long, surely?"
"An eighty per cent certainty. The inexplicable fatal attacks, the peculiar petrified state, the legends about Slytherin himself—the Basilisk is the closest guess to the truth."
"As for lifespan..." Dumbledore said softly, "According to Newt, a normal Basilisk lives about six hundred years. But... if its hibernation periods are prolonged enough, reaching a thousand years, while difficult, isn't impossible."
"Newt is here?" Sprout and McGonagall perked up slightly.
"Ah, yes. He sensed my troubles and has been of great assistance."
Dumbledore blinked, honourably not revealing Wayne and Cho's involvement.
"If it's Scamander's judgment, then it's practically confirmed," Snape said gravely, stroking his chin.
The Basilisk was a XXXXX-class creature, the most dangerous classification. Any wizard who met its gaze would die instantly. Even he would find it extremely troublesome to handle.
No—truthfully, he wouldn't dare face a Basilisk at all.
Professor McGonagall seemed to recall something, her expression turning guilty.
"Then I've wronged the Weasley twins... I must apologise to them."
"Minerva, apologies can wait. I'll make amends, too," Dumbledore said. "The Basilisk's presence shouldn't be revealed to avoid greater panic."
"Our priority now is locating the Chamber and eliminating the threat."
"I understand," Professor McGonagall agreed.
"Gilderoy, you've been unusually quiet today?" Dumbledore suddenly turned to Lockhart, who had remained silent at the back.
"Ah!"
Lockhart snapped out of his daze. "No, I was just shocked. A Basilisk, of all things."
"Scared?" Snape never missed a chance to mock Lockhart.
"Of course not! I was merely concerned for all of you. After all, it's a Basilisk—one glance means instant death," Lockhart said with forced bravado.
"No need to worry. Mr Lawrence has a rather excellent solution."
Dumbledore smiled and produced a pair of black-framed glasses, replacing his half-moon spectacles.
"A little invention he made this afternoon. Wearing these, one will never meet another's gaze."
"I must say, that's quite an ingenious idea."
"Get me a pair." Snape was the first to speak. When it came to life-saving devices, he wouldn't stand on ceremony.
The other professors quickly chimed in as well.
Dumbledore agreed to each request, reminding everyone that upon discovering the Basilisk, they shouldn't confront it alone but immediately send a signal to gather the other professors.
As they left, Lockhart walked in the shadows of the candlelight, his expression grim.
Damn Dumbledore... damn Scamander!
...
Over the following days, the professors taught classes by day and searched every secret passage and corner by night.
No Basilisk was found, but several secret passages leading to Hogsmeade and outside the castle were sealed off.
The young wizards gradually grew restless.
Now, after dinner each evening, they could only return to their common rooms. With so many students gathered there daily, a day or two was tolerable, but prolonged confinement was maddening.
Fortunately, there was good news.
The Quidditch season hadn't been cancelled. The first match, Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, was imminent.
For the occasion, all young wizards were required to attend the match together to prevent anyone from being left alone.
Even those with no interest in Quidditch didn't complain—it was at least a chance to get out and about.
On the last two days before the match, Snape suddenly became irritable in class.
Norman was harshly reprimanded merely for not cleaning his sneezewort properly, leaving roots on the floor, while Susan lost five house points for holding her file incorrectly.
Wayne couldn't be bothered to intervene. Snape's moods were nothing new.
Probably, Harry had done something to annoy him again.
Snape's skill was undeniable, but his temperament...
Might as well not exist.
After class, Wayne walked slightly faster than usual. Nowadays, whichever class he attended, he had to act as temporary Prefect, escorting students to the Great Hall or common room.
But Snape stopped him, letting the others go ahead and line up outside.
"I've lost some potion ingredients."
Seeing Wayne's expression darken immediately, Snape quickly added,
"I'm not accusing you. I just want to know if Potter's been up to anything lately."
Wayne relaxed.
As if he'd need to steal ingredients?
He'd either buy them or take them by force—stealing was beneath someone of his standing.
"Harry's been keeping to himself. But with the current situation, we haven't interacted much. Doesn't seem like he's plotting anything."
Given Harry's current level of guile, if he were hiding something, it would practically be written on his face.
"I see." Snape nodded.
...
On Saturday, the castle finally regained its usual lively atmosphere. After breakfast, the young wizards eagerly made their way to the Quidditch Pitch.
Many skipped and bounced along the path, while players from both teams whooped and hollered as they zoomed into the pitch's changing rooms on their brooms.
"Wayne, who do you think will win?" Astoria asked curiously, walking beside him.
"Definitely Gryffindor."
Before Wayne could answer, Hermione chimed in.
"But Hufflepuff's brooms are better," Astoria pouted, hoping for a Hufflepuff victory.
Not that she disliked Gryffindor, but because Wayne was in Hufflepuff.
The wealthy girl supported people, not houses.
Hermione countered with sound reasoning, "Wood has prepared multiple secret tactics. Besides, Slytherin had better brooms, too, and they still lost."
"I also think Gryffindor will win," Cho chimed in. In terms of individual skill, Hufflepuff genuinely couldn't match Gryffindor.
"Then I'll bet on Hufflepuff," Wayne said with a smile. "Just a meal as the wager. If I lose, I'll have Gardevoir cook a feast."
"In that case, I'll support Gryffindor after all," Astoria promptly defected, infuriating Wayne, who mussed her hair into a tangled mess, making the girls burst into laughter.
Upon entering the pitch, Cho and Hermione headed to their respective house sections.
Wayne settled with Astoria at the boundary between Slytherin and Hufflepuff.
Overhead, banners of encouragement fluttered wildly, while magical fireworks shaped like badgers and lions burst one after another, driving the atmosphere to its peak.
Faced with the chaotic scene, the professors made no attempt to restrain it.
After such prolonged tension, the young witches and wizards deserved to let loose.
With Madam Hooch's whistle, the match began, and Lee Jordan commenced his commentary.
"We can see that even against the better-equipped Hufflepuff, Gryffindor's team isn't backing down."
"They've taken the offensive first! The three female Chasers coordinate flawlessly and score a goal!.. .."
"Gryffindor clearly has more experience defeating wealthier opponents—they've already beaten Slytherin. It's evident that brooms don't decide the match, but the players do."
The Slytherin stands erupted in curses as cups, notebooks, and shoes were hurled at Lee Jordan.
Malfoy, grinding his teeth, even lobbed a rock.
"Jordan! Focus on commentating the match, not irrelevant remarks!" Professor McGonagall had no choice but to erect a barrier while scolding angrily.
"Sorry, Professor," Lee Jordan ducked his head, finally behaving himself.
On the field, Hufflepuff gradually gained the upper hand. Leveraging the Nimbus 2000's agility, they scored consecutively, quickly widening the gap to 100-10.
Yet Gryffindor's team refused to be disheartened, their three Chasers constantly shifting formations to defend.
Wayne raised an eyebrow.
"Wotley's fallen into the trap. This match just got difficult."
"Why?" Astoria asked, puzzled.
With a near-hundred-point lead, why was Wayne suddenly pessimistic about Hufflepuff?
"They're underestimating their opponents," Wayne observed as the figures darted across the sky. "Henderson was supposed to keep disrupting Harry, but he went to help block Angelina and Spinnet instead."
"Gryffindor's key to victory isn't the others—it's Harry."
There wasn't much difference between Harry and Cedric's brooms; it came down to pure skill.
This added unpredictability to the match.
Sure enough, when the score reached 130-20, Harry spotted the Golden Snitch first and accelerated without hesitation. Cedric trailed several lengths behind, desperately accelerating. His broom had a slight edge in raw speed, and the gap between them steadily narrowed.
But just then, Fred sent a Bludger hurtling towards him, striking Cedric squarely.
"Ooooooooh!"
As Harry raised his arm high, the golden wings of the Golden Snitch visible between his fingers, the Gryffindor stands erupted with deafening cheers.
Lee Jordan's voice trembled with excitement:
"Perfect teamwork! Harry Potter has saved Gryffindor once again, but let me tell you, the MVP belongs to George!"
"You idiot, I'm Fred!"
Professor McGonagall was also pounding the table in exhilaration, loudly praising every player on the team.
A second before Harry caught the Golden Snitch, Wotley had scored another goal, but it proved futile.
One hundred and seventy to one hundred and forty – Gryffindor claimed final victory.
As the players touched down, Cedric and his teammates, though disappointed, maintained their sportsmanship and approached to congratulate Gryffindor.
"Brilliant match," Wotley extended his hand, giving Wood's a firm shake.
"You too."
Approaching Fred, Cedric gave him a playful punch.
"Couldn't you have gone easier? You nearly knocked me right off my broom."
Fred wasn't angry either, laughing as he slung an arm around Cedric's shoulders. "Had to make it count, mate. Wouldn't want you slipping away. Don't worry, George and I'll visit you in the hospital wing if you take a tumble."
"Quite right," George nodded with mock solemnity. "We'll have to hit harder next time."
Even Wotley and the others couldn't help laughing at Cedric's expense.
On the way back to the castle, Henderson sought out Wayne for some self-reflection.
"It's all my fault. If I'd stuck to Potter the whole time, Cedric would've caught the Golden Snitch."
"Just be more careful next time," Wayne reassured him with a pat on the shoulder. "We're playing Ravenclaw next match. Win by a big enough margin and we've still got a shot at the cup."
"I'm standing right here," Cho said with a reproachful look at the boy.
"Don't want to lose? Then catch the Snitch faster," Wayne replied cheerfully.
After the match, everyone retreated to the common room for more 'closed-door training'.
But Wayne found it rather dull, deciding instead to take some young witches to practise spells in the Room of Requirement. He sent them back first, planning to have Gardevoir bring them over later.
Before he could follow the crowd downstairs, screams and commotion erupted from the floors above. The Prefects tensed, immediately shepherding the little badgers back to the safety of their common room.
By evening, everyone knew what had happened.
Another attack - and this time, it wasn't a student. Madam Pince, the Librarian, had been targeted.
The news caused surprisingly little stir. After the initial shock of the first two attacks, this being the fourth, people had grown accustomed.
But accustomed didn't mean unafraid. Many were already discussing whether the school might close, with some even approaching Wayne to ask about other wizarding schools and which he'd recommend for transfers.
The next day, a team of Aurors arrived at the school led by Cornelius Fudge.
They spent some time in the Headmaster's office - loud enough that the arguing could be heard outside - but eventually Dumbledore emerged with Fudge, heading towards Hagrid's Hut.