"Esteemed professors," Dudley began slowly, "I don't know if you've heard the old legend: 'When Salazar Slytherin left Hogwarts, he left behind a hidden Chamber, filled with his most treasured possessions and all his knowledge, waiting for his true heir to open it and purge the school of those deemed unworthy.'"
Dudley shared his 'theory' with a measured tone.
In contrast, Lockhart stammered, "A dark wizard… brought a Medusa here…" He fumbled for half a day, unable to spin a coherent story.
A dark wizard bringing a Medusa to Hogwarts? For what? A birthday party? Or just to petrify a cat? And what did that have to do with the Chamber of Secrets?
Oh, maybe the Medusa's name was "Chamber." Sure.
"Professor Dumbledore," Dudley continued, "from what I know, the Chamber was opened fifty years ago. A young witch paid the ultimate price because of it."
"The Ministry caught who they thought was the 'culprit' and expelled him, but… I don't believe that's the full story."
Dudley dropped another bombshell, his eyes meeting Dumbledore's. The headmaster returned his gaze steadily.
This time, Lockhart stayed silent. He was too busy wondering if it was time to come up with an excuse to resign his teaching post.
Someone had died fifty years ago!
Who knew who'd be next?
He still had his youth, countless Galleons to earn, and no reason to stick around in a place like this. But leaving now? That felt like giving up. He could already sense that his next book, Me and Hogwarts, was going to be a bestseller. A Basilisk, for Merlin's sake! A magical creature unseen for four hundred years! It'd outsell that blasted Dragonlance Chronicles for sure.
"I think this matter should be handled by the disciplinary committee," Dudley said.
Dumbledore cut him off. "Dudley, I believe this is a matter for the professors to handle. You're all still too young."
Dumbledore's words carried weight. He might scheme now and then, might not be the perfect professor, or even a great brother. But at his core, he was still a good man.
Knowing it was a Basilisk made things easier. Basilisks feared the crow of a rooster, and Dumbledore recalled Hagrid had plenty of roosters.
"Professor Dumbledore," Dudley said softly, "you remember what you promised me, don't you?"
He shook his head, not bothering to argue further. "This is only the second year, and Hogwarts is already unsafe again, isn't it?"
Dumbledore fell silent.
The petrification of Mrs. Norris didn't cause much of a stir at Hogwarts. As Lockhart put it, "It's just a cat." For most students, it was little more than gossip to chat about over pumpkin juice.
But it left a lingering question in the minds of the young witches and wizards: Who opened the Chamber?
Theories flew around. Some pointed fingers at Dudley since he hadn't participated in the Wizard Card tournament that day. He'd been in the crowd, sure, but that didn't rule him out. Harry, on the other hand, was in the clear—he'd been dueling with cards the whole time, no chance to sneak off unless he could Apparate right under Dumbledore's nose.
This theory spread like wildfire through Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Slytherin, however, wasn't buying it.
"Mr. Dursley's not that foolish," they said. "And why would he bother with something so pointless?"
They'd rather believe Crabbe or Goyle was the heir of the Chamber.
The professors formed a patrol team, sweeping the castle regularly. Naturally, they found no trace of the Basilisk.
Well, not entirely fruitless—the number of students sneaking out at night dropped to the lowest in Hogwarts' history.
Dudley had tried sending a tamed Cornish Pixie through the second-floor girls' bathroom to track down the Basilisk in the Chamber. Letting a dangerous creature like that roam the castle wasn't his style. If someone ran into it, they'd be lucky to only get petrified.
Sadly, the pixie vanished without a trace.
When Dudley tried to investigate further, Dumbledore stopped him.
"You should trust the professors' abilities. Trust us," Dumbledore said.
"Alright," Dudley replied, agreeing without hesitation.
Then he crafted a special Wizard Card for each member of the disciplinary committee, instructing them to keep it close. The card couldn't block the Basilisk's deadly gaze, but it could act like a mirror, reducing the killing effect to petrification.
After the announcement about the Chamber, the mysterious message vanished, as if it had never existed.
No further incidents occurred.
Days passed quietly.
The young witches and wizards, after their initial fascination, gradually forgot about the Chamber as time wore on.
People's attention spans are short. Once the excitement fades, so does the memory.
Life at Hogwarts stayed calm until February 14th.
Valentine's Day.
Or, as some liked to joke, you could have a Valentine's Day every month—White Valentine's Day, Black Valentine's Day, Rose Valentine's Day, even Green Valentine's Day.
When the students stepped into the Great Hall that morning, they thought they'd walked into the wrong room. The walls were covered in massive, dazzling pink flowers, the entire hall decked out in bubblegum pink. Heart-shaped confetti rained down from the pale blue ceiling, and the air was thick with a cloying, nausea-inducing perfume.
"What happened? Did a pink demon invade Hogwarts?" Ron gaped, pointing at the saccharine decorations, too stunned to speak properly.
"I think someone's lost their mind," Dudley said, nodding toward the professors' table, where Lockhart sat in a garish pink robe. The other professors beside him wore grim expressions, heads bowed to hide their faces.
Pink wasn't a color just anyone could pull off.
Clearly, Lockhart wasn't one of those people.
"Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!" Lockhart bellowed, practically preening. "So far, I've received no less than fifty-nine cards, and I'd like to thank all the lovely ladies who sent them! Yes, I took the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all…"
"Fifty-nine, he said?" Hermione noted, filing the detail away as an important clue.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," Harry said, eyeing Lockhart's triumphant grin.
"Whenever Lockhart plans something, it's never good," Ron agreed.
"I've got the same feeling," Neville chimed in.
Then Malfoy added, "I just hope my bad feeling doesn't come true."
A moment later, their fears were confirmed.