Chapter 2: The Beast-Speaker
The dungeons were a sensory assault, the chill of wet stone seeping through Leo's robes, the mildew scent thick as forgotten secrets, clinging to his throat like damp wool. Torches flickered, casting shadows that danced like specters, their light glinting off a cracked flagon abandoned in a corner, its rim stained with old wine, its base crusted with dust. Leo knelt in an alcove, his hand outstretched to Pixel, the rat's whiskers brushing his fingers like tiny brushes, each touch a spark of trust in the damp gloom. You're my first friend here, buddy. His heart steadied, the System's glow a faint comfort against the stone's bite. He thought of his old dog, Max, who'd wait by the door, tail thumping, and the memory ached like a bruise.
[BOOST UNLOCKED: BEAST-SPEAK LEVEL 1. CONGRATS, DR. DOLITTLE. TRY NOT TO START A RODENT REVOLUTION—COOLDOWN 5 MIN.]
Leo snorted, the sarcasm a mirror to his own.
"Revolution? Pixel for president."
He whispered, the rat's tiny nose nudging him, its warmth a contrast to the stone's chill, its claws clicking on the uneven floor.
Enid's head popped over the west wing's railing, her pink hair a defiant splash against the dungeon's gray, her scarf's frayed ends swaying in the draft.
"Talking to rats? Adorable."
She teased, her blush bright as the torchlight, her fingers twisting a loose bracelet bead, its clink soft but clear. Leo grinned, warmth sparking in his chest, his pulse quickening.
"Ow, love bite?"
He quipped as Pixel nibbled his finger, the gentle pinch grounding him. She's here. Flirting's new, but I'm not crashing. Enid giggled, the sound bouncing off the stone, cutting through the silence like a bell.
"Your laugh's the real trap."
He shot back, playful, though his cheeks warmed, the air heavy with the barrier's hum, its magic buzzing like a distant swarm, shimmering between the dorms. Dorm rules suck. Gotta find a workaround. A chipped stone in the wall caught his eye, its jagged edge a reminder of the castle's age, its secrets buried deep.
Pixel scurried into a wall crack, its tail a fleeting shadow, its claws clicking like a metronome. Where to, little dude? Leo followed, squeezing through a narrow tunnel, the stone scraping his robes, their frayed threads catching like stubborn memories. The air grew heavy, laced with a metallic tang—old blood, sharp and unsettling, mixing with the earthy dampness that clung to his skin. Scorched hydra scales glinted on the ground, their edges jagged under his wand's flickering light, the beam trembling in his grip. Nevermore's accident. It's real. He remembered a news clip from his old life—some chemical spill, hazmat suits, a cover-up—and the scales felt like a puzzle piece from that world, strange and out of place.
[PLOT TWIST: TUNNEL'S NOT ON MAPS. SHOCKING, RIGHT?]
The System's taunt tightened his grip on the scale he pocketed, its rough texture a grim reminder of the Entity's vision. What happened here? Crackstone, hydra… it's all connected.
"Smooth, Benedict."
Enid called, her laughter echoing as he tripped on a loose stone, his knee grazing the damp floor, the sting sharp but fleeting, the moss underfoot slick and cold.
"Treasure hunt or death trap? Both?"
Leo quipped, turning to her, his wand casting her face in soft light, her smile easing the tunnel's chill.
"Optimist."
She shot back, rolling her eyes, her scarf brushing the wall's moss, its green smear staining the fabric. Wednesday emerged from the shadows, her pigtails stark, her voice deadpan.
"Ruins hold secrets. Let's dissect."
She handed Leo a folded note, its parchment crisp, her handwriting precise as a surgeon's cut, the ink's faint lavender scent lingering. A team. We're a team. The note outlined a plan to investigate the scales, tying them to the hydra and Black Thorn. Why can't I remember the Basilisk's kill?
[RECALL? SPOILERS.]
Leo sighed, frustration a burning coal in his gut. Fine, I'll figure it out. A shadowy figure—Thorne?—flickered at the tunnel's end, vanishing before he could react, leaving a chill that wasn't just the air, the tunnel's dampness seeping into his boots. He's watching. I need to be faster.
Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class was a breath of autumn, the breeze carrying damp earth and animal fur, the grass slick with dew under Leo's boots, its blades bending under his weight. Buckbeak, the hippogriff, stood proud, its feathers shimmering like molten silver, its eyes sharp as daggers, its talons digging into the soft earth, leaving faint claw marks. Leo bowed, his beast-speaking tingling, a warm pulse in his veins. You're majestic. Let's be friends. He thought of Max again, the way he'd nuzzle his hand, and the memory steadied him. Draco sneered from the sidelines, his voice dripping venom.
"Freak whisperer."
His wand twirled lazily, his smirk sharp. Leo ignored him, whispering.
"Easy, big guy."
His voice was a low rumble, steady despite the ache in his scraped knee. Buckbeak lowered its head, a bond forming, its feathers rustling like a soft breeze.
[SYSTEM BOOSTS CALM. HIPPOGRIFF AFFINITY DETECTED. UPGRADE TEASE—EARN IT.]
Hagrid clapped, his grin wide as the Forbidden Forest, his coat's frayed hem flapping in the wind, its buttons glinting dully. I've got this. Leo's chest swelled, the scent of pine and fur grounding him, the dew soaking his boots a cold reminder of the world's weight.
"Jealous your broom doesn't talk back?"
Leo shot at Draco, whose face flushed crimson, sparking Gryffindor laughter and a few Slytherin smirks, the sound bright against the forest's rustle. A chipped wooden post nearby creaked, swaying in the breeze, its grain splintered, a mundane anchor to the moment's triumph. I'm not just surviving. I'm good at this. Hermione approached, her quill scratching parchment, a loose curl escaping her bun, her eyes alight with curiosity.
"Fascinating. The calming effect, the way you spoke to it… it's like a language. Explain."
An ally. A real one. Leo grinned, explaining, his voice steady, the ache in his knee a dull throb.
[ONE DOWN, HUNDRED CREATURES. DON'T GET PECKED.]
"Slang revolution."
He muttered, smirking at the System, the hippogriff's steady gaze a promise of power, its feathers catching the sunlight. Thorne's out there, but I'm building something here. The forest's edge loomed, whispering secrets, a chipped rock at its base glinting faintly, urging him deeper into the mystery.