It was a weekend morning.
Outside, the wind howled fiercely.
Melvin pushed open half the window, letting a rush of icy, fresh air flood the room. He instantly felt more awake.
Deep winter was, coincidentally, the season for snakes to hibernate. The basilisk was stubbornly holed up in its stone-carved lair, refusing to budge. Since Melvin didn't speak Parseltongue, coaxing the creature out for a jaunt to the Gryffindor Tower required some effort. He'd resorted to catching a batch of spiders, roasting them, and placing them in the pipes as bait.
He nearly ran into Moaning Myrtle haunting her way back to the bathroom.
Having stayed up until the early hours, and with the sleepy season in full swing, his body felt sluggish despite his mind being alert.
Snowflakes carried on the wind dusted his skin, cool and fleeting. The grounds were a sea of white, the Black Lake frozen over, the Forbidden Forest draped in silver. Hogsmeade in the distance was completely obscured.
Melvin's breath formed a cloud of mist that quickly dissipated. He closed the window, headed to the bathroom to wash up, brush his teeth, and change out of his pajamas.
By his calculations, Hermione and the others should soon pinpoint the basilisk. The exact location of the Chamber of Secrets wasn't far off either…
A good show was about to unfold.
Another performance was still in rehearsal.
Since last month, the Muggle Studies classroom had become the drama club's weekend headquarters. They discussed scripts, did table reads, and rehearsed scenes there. Even when there was no real work to do, the club members loved gathering to chat.
When Melvin arrived after breakfast, the drama club was already assembled. Neville and Marietta stood at the front by the lectern, while the other members sat below, reviewing the last rehearsal and discussing script tweaks.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," Melvin greeted.
The students turned, delighted to see their professor.
Neville and Marietta, still a bit shy, gave him timid smiles. "Good morning, Professor Levent."
"How's the rehearsal going?"
"A few lines need tweaking," Marietta said. "Neville worked on them last night, and we're getting everyone's feedback."
"Let's see a run-through with the revised script," Melvin said.
"Huh?" Neville blinked.
"What are you waiting for?" Melvin said with a grin. "I'm on a schedule—got another show to catch. Hurry up!"
"Oh, right!"
The club scrambled into action. Actors rushed to don their makeshift costumes, while others set up the stage and arranged props, putting on a surprisingly organized show.
Melvin recognized many familiar faces.
Cedric from Hufflepuff played Sir Cadogan, the knight. Already a handsome lad, he looked even more dashing in silver armor scavenged from who-knows-where, holding a lance in one hand and a wand in the other. He outshone the portrait's Sir Cadogan by a mile.
Marcus from Slytherin—somehow cast in the role—joined Ravenclaw's Roger to play two pure-blood wizards who mocked the knight mid-story, exuding perfect villainous vibes.
Percy Weasley, with his prefect experience, handled stage direction with precision, though his expression soured slightly since his girlfriend, Penelope, was cast as the female lead.
Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students took charge of prop-making. Cho Chang and Luna Lovegood contributed heavily. The story's key prop, a two-legged dragon, was Luna's idea—crafted from branches draped with curtains and enhanced with Transfiguration. It looked startlingly lifelike at first glance.
Compared to these talented older students, Neville and Marietta seemed less prominent.
But Melvin knew better. They'd handpicked the cast and made tough calls on controversial decisions, often invoking their professor's authority when debates got heated. After months of work, they might not yet match Percy or Cedric, but their growth was undeniable.
With everyone pitching in, the stage was soon ready.
"No matter how ferocious the dragon, someone must stand against it!"
"Mount my steed and charge!"
"…"
The students, with no formal theater experience, couldn't rival Nearly Headless Nick's ghostly productions. With Melvin watching, the actors and stage crew were visibly nervous, leading to a few mistakes.
Some girls' voices trembled as they delivered lines, and Cedric spoke too quickly. The overall performance was decent but not stellar.
Melvin sat in the audience, watching without interrupting. When the curtain fell, the club gathered, anxious but hopeful, awaiting his verdict.
"Honestly, there's plenty of room for improvement," Melvin began, pointing out a few flaws. Seeing their crestfallen faces, he raised his voice slightly. "But it's far better than I expected. You won't be ready for Christmas, but I'll ask Professor McGonagall to reserve a stage in the Great Hall for the Easter feast."
The young witches and wizards looked up, their faces lighting up with joy, some with tears glistening in their eyes.
"What about showing it on the magical mirror?" Justin from Hufflepuff asked.
Melvin gave a warm smile. "That depends on how well you perform."
…
Bang!
A heavy book slammed onto the table with a dull thud.
"I knew I'd read it somewhere—this is it!"
In a quiet corner of the library by the window, Hermione sat on a bench, pointing at the open page for Harry and Ron. "The natural enemy of the Acromantula, with bright yellow eyes. Combined with Harry saying it's a snake-like creature, it can only be that!"
"Basilisk?" Harry read the name from the rough sketch in the book.
"Exactly!" Hermione nodded firmly. "According to Newt Scamander, the magical creatures expert, there hasn't been a recorded basilisk sighting in Britain for at least four hundred years. That threw me off at first. But when you mentioned a snake this morning, it clicked."
"The basilisk's gaze can kill any person or animal that meets its eyes in an instant.
"Spiders fear basilisks because their 360-degree vision means they can't close their eyes, making them easy prey for the basilisk's stare…"
Ron read the passage softly, unease creeping in. He looked up at his friends. "I still don't get why Harry hearing Parseltongue last night made him so sure the Chamber's monster is a snake."
"It's not just the voice I heard," Harry explained, scratching his head. "Professor Levent once had me demonstrate Parseltongue. Looking back, during dueling practice, he gave me a knowing look, but I didn't catch the hint then."
"That's not the point. We've found the culprit!" Hermione muttered, her mind racing. "I should've realized sooner. The basilisk was bred by the notorious dark wizard Herpo the Foul. Salazar Slytherin, a Parselmouth and master of dark magic, breeding a basilisk makes perfect sense…"
She trailed off, frowning. "But where's the basilisk hiding?"
Harry noticed Madam Pince's sharp glare, realizing they'd caught the librarian's attention. He lowered his voice. "Let's ask Myrtle again. She's the only one who's seen the monster. We didn't know it was a basilisk before, but now that we do, she might recall something useful."
"Good idea!"
The trio left the library and headed to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
Myrtle's moody reputation kept most girls away from the second-floor bathroom, but inside, it wasn't as bad as expected. Rarely used, the floor was free of grime, and there was no foul smell.
Harry and Ron tiptoed in, looking uneasy, glancing back nervously as if worried someone would catch them in the girls' bathroom.
They pushed open the third stall, where a toilet and cistern sat quietly.
"The floor's dry," Hermione said, frowning. "Myrtle hasn't been here in days. Lavender hasn't mentioned anyone getting splashed with toilet water lately either…"
"Has she left?" Harry wondered.
"Did Professor Levent's philosophy talk mess with her head like it did Nearly Headless Nick?" Ron scratched his head.
"…"
The three fell silent.
Just as their investigation stalled, a translucent figure poked her head through the wall. Her round, chubby face was half-hidden by bangs and thick glasses. The ghostly girl stared at Harry, her tone dripping with resentment. "So it's you lot…"
"Myrtle! Thank goodness!" Harry exhaled. "We thought you'd moved out."
They'd questioned her before about Hagrid's case, and she'd been at the Deathday Party, listening to Professor Levent's philosophy talk. Being a relatively young ghost, she hadn't been thrown into an existential crisis like some of the older spirits.
Myrtle gave them a long, heavy look. "It's your fault, always sneaking in here at night, making weird noises. I've been too scared to come back."
Harry blinked. "Who's sneaking in at night?"
"Not you?"
Myrtle froze, confused. "Someone's been coming here at midnight, always with strange mist and hissing sounds. I thought it was a dark wizard or monster, so I stopped coming. When I did, I hid in the next stall. Hearing you now, I thought you were the midnight visitors…"
Harry's expression turned thoughtful.
"Of course it's not us. Who'd sneak into a girls' bathroom for a night prowl?" Ron argued, sounding entirely reasonable.
No one paid him any mind. Hermione looked at the floating ghost. "Myrtle, we've figured out the monster that killed you. It wasn't an Acromantula—it was a basilisk. We came to see if you remembered any clues."
"A basilisk…"
At the word, Myrtle's eyes grew melancholic, tears welling up and sliding down her cheeks.
The short, stout ghost stared at the tiled wall, lost in thought.
She remembered that year, hiding in the bathroom to cry after being bullied and mocked, just wanting to ease her pain and frustration. Hearing a boy's voice, she thought someone else shared her misery. But when she turned, she met a pair of glowing yellow eyes, and her life ended at twelve.
The Ministry couldn't uncover the truth, and even Dumbledore was powerless. They pinned it on an Acromantula and expelled a Gryffindor student.
Not knowing the real culprit, she blamed those who'd tormented her. If they hadn't driven her to the bathroom, she wouldn't have been there to die.
In her first years as a ghost, she'd vengefully haunted her bullies, especially Olive Hornby, whose name she still remembered. Olive had tormented her, scared her from corners, startled her in her sleep, and even disrupted her wedding years later. Only when Olive left Britain did it stop.
After Olive Hornby was gone, Myrtle Warren sank into confusion. Her Muggle parents couldn't see ghosts, so she was doomed to haunt Hogwarts, claiming this bathroom as her own, becoming the annoying ghost everyone avoided.
"Myrtle? Myrtle?" Hermione called softly.
Lost in memories, Myrtle's expression was dazed, as if she hadn't heard.
Hermione pursed her lips, hesitating, then decided not to press the poor victim further. She exchanged a look with Harry and Ron, signaling they'd done enough for today.
Harry and Ron nodded silently.
As they turned to leave, Harry paused, struck by a sudden thought. He began scanning the room—the cracked tiles, the worn wooden door, the stained sink.
"What are you looking for?" Hermione whispered.
Harry stepped closer, inspecting the bathroom's fixtures, explaining as he searched. "Remember when Professor Levent had me demonstrate Parseltongue? Myrtle just said someone's been coming here at night, making strange noises. I think it's Parseltongue—the command to open the Chamber."
"You mean… the Chamber's hidden here!"
Hermione's mind raced, piecing things together. "No one else at school has seen the basilisk because the Chamber's in the bathroom. The basilisk came out, ran into Myrtle, and—
"Her death was an accident. The real heir didn't expect it, so they sent the basilisk back into the Chamber.
"The murder caused a huge stir with the Ministry. It got too big, so the heir, fearing exposure, never opened the Chamber again."
The trio's excitement surged. All the clues had finally come together, unraveling the truth behind the Chamber of Secrets mystery from fifty years ago.
They scoured the bathroom, searching for the mechanism to open the Chamber. There weren't many objects to check, and soon, they found a snake-shaped engraving on the side of a copper faucet.
Harry steadied his racing breath, recalling Professor Levent's hints. He leaned in and hissed in Parseltongue, "Open."
The faucet glowed with white light and began spinning rapidly, the sink spinning with it. Under their watchful eyes, the light faded, revealing a wide, open pipe.
It was pitch black inside.
The three stared in astonishment at the transformation. Before Harry could speak, a translucent figure flashed past, vanishing into the wide pipe.
"Myrtle!"