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Madam Pomfrey was not pleased… far from it.
"Why didn't you come straight to me in the first place?" she snapped, her voice sharp with irritation. "And now I'm left to clean up this absolute mess!"
"It was already... sort of treated," Hermione quickly tried to explain from the side, her voice tentative. "But Professor Lockhart insisted on—"
"Why are you still calling him 'Professor'?!" Ron exploded, clearly just as furious. "Harry's injured arm was already treated perfectly well by Wood, but Lockhart went and messed up the one arm that wasn't even injured in the first place!"
Madam Pomfrey was now bent over, inspecting Harry's arm closely. What she found was a limp, boneless limb, so soft and floppy it looked more like a dangling rubber hose than a human arm. It could probably be folded up several times over without resistance.
The bones were gone. Not broken… gone. Vanished completely, thanks to a miscast Nonverbal Spell from Lockhart.
"Making bones disappear is easy enough — just wave your wand," Madam Pomfrey muttered under her breath, not even trying to hide the exasperation in her tone. "But getting them to grow back…"
"You can grow them back, though, can't you?" Harry asked quickly, his eyes wide and filled with desperate hope.
"Of course I can," she replied without hesitation, pulling out a squat brown bottle from her cabinet and uncorking it with a practiced hand. Inside was a thick, muddy-looking brown liquid that gave off a strong medicinal scent. "But it's going to take time… and it's going to be painful."
She poured the liquid into a cup and handed it to Harry, gesturing firmly for him to drink it. "You'll be staying here tonight. I'll inform your Head of House."
With that, Ron and Hermione were promptly shooed out of the hospital wing, leaving Harry alone in sickbed. The bitter, foul taste of the Skele-Gro still clung to his tongue, and its pungent smell lingered in the air as he slowly drifted into a restless sleep.
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Sargeras examined his arm and upper torso with quiet satisfaction, watching the intricate blue markings shimmer faintly beneath his skin.
The alchemical array had been etched perfectly, each stroke precise and every rune in its place. It was a flawless conclusion to hours of work—and now, more than anything, he was itching to test the new spell on some hapless Dark wizard who didn't know what was coming.
But reason soon caught up with desire. He glanced out the window at the evening sky, which had darkened into the last hues of twilight, and decided it would be wiser to head to the Hogwarts library first to do a bit more research.
The last thing he wanted was to repeat the tragedy of Aemon Blade — a reckless sorcerer whose body had exploded into bloody fragments after trying to siphon too much power from someone else's magic. Sargeras had no intention of following in those footsteps.
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The night had deepened, and the castle lay cloaked in silence.
As Sargeras hurried back toward the entrance hall, hoping to reach the library before it closed, he suddenly stumbled upon an unusual sight.
In the vast entrance hall, bathed in the soft light of floating torches, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were moving carefully… deliberately. They were carrying something, supporting it between them, step by slow step, making their way toward the direction of the infirmary.
"This is…" Sargeras stepped forward, his brows drawing together in a frown as a grim possibility struck him. "Was there... another attack?"
"Sargeras !" Professor McGonagall let out a breath of relief, as though a heavy weight had been lifted off her shoulders. "You're just in time—help us, quickly…"
With a flick of his wand, Sargeras gently levitated the figure that had been in the headmaster and deputy headmistress's arms. The unconscious body floated up smoothly into the air, hovering in place before beginning to follow behind them, moving slowly in sync with their footsteps.
"What exactly happened?" Sargeras asked, his voice low and serious. As he guided the small body toward the hospital wing and carefully placed it on one of the sickbeds, his eyes never left the unconscious student.
Madam Pomfrey, who had been roused from sleep, was already at the bedside, wand in hand, conducting a thorough examination of the statue-like figure from head to toe.
"Another attack…" Dumbledore confirmed grimly. "Minerva found him in the corridor."
Sargeras leaned down, studying the petrified boy's face. He was just a first-year student, small and slender, with fear frozen on his youthful features. In his hand, he was still clutching a Muggle-style camera, fingers locked around it in a death grip. The expression on his face suggested that he had seen something terrifying in his final conscious moment. The camera lens was shattered — as if something powerful had struck it.
"Colin Creevey…" Professor McGonagall said, her voice tight with worry. "He's a devoted admirer of Potter. When I found him, he was still holding a bunch of grapes… probably sneaking off to visit Harry in secret."
"Potter?" Sargeras echoed, puzzled.
"He broke his arm during the Quidditch match earlier today," McGonagall explained, gesturing toward the nearby bed behind a drawn curtain. "He's being treated over there right now."
Sargeras gave a thoughtful nod, his gaze lingering briefly on the curtained bed before returning to the boy.
"He's been petrified," Madam Pomfrey confirmed to them all, her tone heavy. "Exactly the same as that cat."
"Yes," McGonagall replied softly. "Luckily, Albus happened to come downstairs for some hot cocoa, or I don't know what I would have done. Neither of us was carrying a wand."
Sargeras glanced at the three adults. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey were all still dressed in their nightclothes. Dumbledore's long silver hair hung loose over his shoulders, giving him a slightly disheveled look. It was clear they had all rushed here the moment the emergency began.
Suddenly, Madam Pomfrey pointed at the camera still gripped tightly in Colin's hands.
"Could it be… he took a photo of the attacker?"
Dumbledore had already reached forward and gently removed the camera from the boy's stiff fingers. He examined it for a moment, then carefully opened the back cover.
The instant it clicked open, a small burst of smoke puffed out, carrying with it a scorched, acrid smell that filled the room.
"Merlin's beard!" gasped both Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall at the same time.
"What in the world—?!"
"It was destroyed by an extremely powerful magical force," Dumbledore said quietly, his face grave and unreadable.
"There's no longer any doubt…" he continued, his voice dropping lower, more somber. "The Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened."
"What are we supposed to do, Albus?" Professor McGonagall's voice trembled faintly, stripped of its usual steadiness and composure. "Are we really left with no choice but to wait until Pomona's mandrakes have fully matured?"
"I'll handle it," Sargeras stepped forward without hesitation. Reaching into his robe, he pulled out a slender vial, its contents glowing faintly with a soft, silvery shimmer. "A powerful brew," he said calmly, holding it up to the light, "crafted from mandrake essence and phoenix tears. Just two drops of this will be enough to bring him back completely."
"Where on earth did that come from?" Professor McGonagall asked in surprise. "The last time…"
"It's very precious, and I wouldn't have wasted it on a cat," he replied plainly, already removing the cork and drawing out exactly two drops. Without any further delay, he gently administered the potion into the mouth of the petrified young wizard.
The result was nothing short of miraculous.
The cold, stony gray that had encased the boy's body receded like a tide, fading away second by second, as healthy warmth and soft pink tones blossomed visibly across his face. It was like watching life return to a statue… color and breath weaving their way back into his skin.
Colin suddenly began to cough violently, his whole chest rising and falling in sharp, urgent spasms, as though he'd just been pulled from deep water.
"Oh, thank heavens—thank Merlin! Finally…" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed joyfully, clearly overwhelmed with relief.
"You should be thanking me," Sargeras turned toward her with a faint smile, "and my friend who helped me make that potion."
At that, Madam Pomfrey couldn't help but smile back.
"Yes, Sargeras, thank you—for everything you've done," she said warmly.
In truth, a significant portion of her healing spells and remedies had been improved by Sargeras' careful adjustments and innovations. For that reason alone, she had always held this young professor in the highest regard.
Colin, now slowly regaining his senses, blinked in confusion. His eyes were unfocused at first, as if trying to recognize where he was.
"Where… where am I?" he mumbled, dazed. "I think I just had a horrible nightmare…"
His gaze drifted from face to face, trying to piece things together, until finally it landed on the camera Dumbledore was still holding in his hands.
The moment he saw it, a visible shiver ran through him.
"There… there was something in the hallway. I—I was trying to take a picture of it. It turned around and looked at me, and then… then I ended up here."
Just then, Snape, Lockhart, and a few others arrived at the hospital wing in a rush.
Seeing Colin not only awake but speaking coherently from his bed left them all looking visibly perplexed. Dumbledore's Patronus had only moments earlier summoned them urgently with a message about an attack, yet the scene before them told a different story entirely.
Dumbledore gave them a swift but concise explanation of what had happened.
When he mentioned that Sargeras had used a special potion to reverse the petrification, Snape shot him a glance… sharp and unreadable, but lingering just a little too long to be casual.
"So, you actually saw the attacker?" Lockhart asked, managing for once to speak without any theatrical flair. Even so, his usual beaming grin still hovered awkwardly on his face, making his sincerity harder to trust.
"I saw… a really big snake…" Colin said, stumbling over his words, clearly still shaken. "It was slithering off in the other direction. I remember being really surprised… I just wanted to snap a picture. But the moment I pressed the shutter, it turned and looked at me…"
"And then… I woke up here."
"A snake?" Snape narrowed his eyes, repeating the word slowly, drawing it out as though tasting it. "How big?"
"Um… about as thick as a bucket, I think," Colin stammered, shrinking under the weight of everyone's attention. "I… I don't remember exactly. I thought I got a picture of it…"
"Unfortunately, your camera was damaged," Dumbledore said gently, his voice warm and reassuring. "But don't worry, Colin… I'll do everything I can to have it repaired."
Colin nodded gratefully, his expression softening just a little with relief.
At that moment, even Lockhart's ever-present grin had vanished. He looked genuinely stunned, as though trying to process something that didn't fit into his tidy, self-important worldview. "A snake, the size of a bucket?" he said incredulously, blinking rapidly. "Inside Hogwarts? Inside the castle itself? Child, are you just trying to get attention, or did you perhaps… mistake what you saw?"
Several professors exchanged knowing glances, but no one responded to him. Madam Pomfrey even rolled her eyes… subtly, but unmistakably.
"As far as I know," Snape said slowly, his tone silken and slippery as always, "there's no known species of snake capable of petrification… unless, of course, you're thinking of a Gorgon. But they don't exactly come with such a… robust physique."
"Are you certain it was just a snake?" Professor McGonagall turned to Colin again, her expression firm but not unkind. "Not some kind of magical creature with a serpent's body and… perhaps, a human face?"
"It was a snake," Colin whispered, trembling slightly. "It was really long… and huge… and terrifying. Just a snake…"
Snape suddenly leaned in, looming over Colin with his robes flaring out like a bat unfurling its wings. His black eyes bore down on the boy with chilling intensity. "Let me get this straight," he said softly, though there was a clear edge to his voice. "You're telling me that a massive snake — thick as a bucket — didn't even bite you? Didn't use venom? It just looked at you from a distance, and that was enough to turn you to stone?"
He gave a low, derisive laugh. "Petrified, are you? I'm speaking of actual petrification, not some foolish child frozen in place by fright."
"Severus," Dumbledore raised a hand, his tone firm, cutting through Snape's menacing air. "I don't believe Colin has any reason to lie." Then, turning back to the group, his voice grew more serious, weighted with conviction. "Even if we don't yet fully understand what this creature is… one thing is clear — it is a snake."
Sargeras had been about to suggest using a "Memory Recollection" charm to draw out the image Colin had seen, his hand already moving toward his wand, when something suddenly clicked in his mind.
He suddenly remembered what Moaning Myrtle had said earlier — that all the spiders had disappeared.
And there was only one creature in the magical world that spiders instinctively feared, that they would flee from without hesitation.
There was only one possibility…
"A basilisk…" Sargeras said, the word dropping from his mouth like a stone into still water.
Everyone froze. The room fell completely silent, as though the very name had sucked the air out of it.
"A… basilisk?" Snape's voice — rarely anything but smooth and assured — now carried a rare hint of uncertainty. "But in the legends, a basilisk's gaze…"
"Is fatal," Sargeras nodded gravely, confirming what everyone else was thinking. "But… only if you look into its eyes directly."
"You mean…"
"Colin saw it through the lens of his camera," Sargeras continued, his voice echoing clearly through the hospital wing. "And Mrs. Norris likely saw it in the reflection of the puddle." He paused for just a beat, letting the implications settle in. "Indirect contact with its eyes weakens the fatal effect. That's why they were petrified… not killed."
"That's still just a theory you—"
"I believe…" Dumbledore interrupted, his voice suddenly deep and heavy with unspoken memory, "Sargeras may be right. Because fifty years ago, the Chamber of Secrets was opened once before… and that time… a student lost their life."
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[Chapter End's]
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