Half an hour later, the Basilisk's massive body finally crumbled into a heap of rubble, and the student it had swallowed was released by Tver. The few remaining teams collapsed onto the ground, exhausted, leaning against each other and gasping for breath.
But every one of them was smiling.
Percy lay on his back on the stone-dusted floor, staring up at the bright blue sky and the occasional drifting cloud. His emotions were still running high, a sentence stuck somewhere in his throat—something he wanted to say but couldn't quite voice. He broke into a wide grin.
It was the first time he had defeated such a powerful opponent using ordinary magic, without relying on dark spells or any tricks. He had beaten the Basilisk fair and square.
More importantly, this time he had truly fought side by side with his teammates, finally understanding the value of working together. He thought back to what he'd said at the start of the term, and to Professor Fawley's reply. This victory really did belong to all of them.
The other students felt the same. They crowded together with their teammates, arms slung over shoulders and backs, loudly bragging about their moments of glory. After a full year of study, in this moment, they finally understood what teamwork meant.
Of course, there was also a flicker of respect for Harry rising in their hearts. How had he managed to take on such a terrifying creature all by himself?
Similar end-of-lesson scenes played out in the fifth and seventh years. Everyone had witnessed the Basilisk's ferocity and experienced the power of cooperation. For a while, the castle's atmosphere improved noticeably.
Especially between the Houses—thanks to the cross-House team formations, the usual competitive tension had eased a great deal. Students spent their days talking excitedly about working together, leaving no trace of the gloom the Basilisk had brought before.
At the very least, when Tver gave quizzes in class, no one complained.
...
Late at night.
After finally squeezing out a bit of free time, Tver quietly cracked open his office door, leaving only a sliver. He peeked through the gap at the hallway outside. Spotting the faint glimmer of golden threads above him, he let out a satisfied smile.
So that was the magic Dumbledore used to keep an eye on him. As long as they were inside the castle, Headmasters could make use of various privileges granted by the school. That was recorded in Lady Rowena's writings.
Still, this particular bit of clever magic was probably Dumbledore's own work, and Tver wasn't able to decipher it yet. Avoiding it, however, was much easier.
He cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, suppressing his magical presence to the lowest possible level. The Tver standing in the doorway vanished at once. Even if Snape had been there, he wouldn't have sensed anything amiss.
Only then did Tver make his way toward the girls' lavatory.
"Creak."
The newly repaired door still couldn't hide the marks of age. Tver closed it helplessly.
Moaning Myrtle drifted out from her cubicle, puzzled.
"Who's there? Who's in here?"
She scanned the entrance in confusion, but saw nothing out of place. Had she imagined the sound?
Wait—could ghosts even have auditory hallucinations?
Lost in her doubts, Myrtle failed to notice the small hole that had appeared behind the sink, hidden from her view.
Tver couldn't speak Parseltongue, but he knew Transfiguration. All he needed was the exact location of the entrance. Opening a small gap using Transfiguration was child's play—the wall wasn't especially hard, nor was it protected by any charms.
If he weren't worried that other pipes might be too narrow or contain something strange, Tver could've crawled through any of them.
He slipped down the pipe and reached the Chamber once more. But the Basilisk skin he'd seen earlier was gone—taken by someone, though he couldn't tell who.
Basilisk hide was excellent potion material, Tver thought with a trace of regret.
The tear in the Chamber door was still there, but a slow pulse of magic was knitting it back together. The repair was so gradual he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been sensing the magic directly.
And it was precisely that lingering magic that made Tver nod in satisfaction.
It's not your magic I fear, but that you might truly be a bare, empty chamber.
After receiving Ravenclaw's guidance, he shifted his attention to the remaining two founders. When it came to Salazar Slytherin, the most obvious legacy he had left behind was this Chamber of Secrets.
His last visit had been rushed, and it wouldn't have been appropriate to search the chamber in front of Harry and Percy. Recently, time had been tight, and he'd also needed to keep Dumbledore's suspicions at bay. Only now did he finally have a moment to come back.
Tver stood at the entrance without stepping inside, running his hands along the stone door that faintly pulsed with magic. The way this magic operated resembled ancient magic—runes carved into an object and activated according to certain rules. The clever part was that there were no visible runes at all.
After investigating for quite a while, drawing on the knowledge and understanding he'd gained from the two founders, he finally realized that the runes and the magic had merged into one.
It was strange, to say the least.
In simple terms, the runes here were made of magic itself, while the magic drew its strength from those runes. This resolved the problem of magic not being able to store itself on non-magical materials and allowed the magic to exist for an extended period.
With that in mind, Tver understood how the door functioned—
As if!
Magic still had its basic rules.
Runes were runes, magic was magic—how could the two possibly blend?
Even with his limited knowledge of ancient magic, he understood that without actual, physical runes, the magic would have faded long ago.
Unable to figure out the principle behind the door, Tver decided to stop thinking about it altogether. Because he had another method—the Will Line.
Where there was magic, there would be a Will Line. He could follow that line to find the magic's owner.
Namely, Salazar Slytherin.
Tver placed his hand on the point where the magical reaction was strongest. His magic surged as he slowly closed his eyes. He didn't actually need to, but it felt appropriate.
The next second, he wished he had kept them shut.
Chaos.
The Will Line was like a tangled ball of yarn—one that a cat had already played with. It wrapped around the door in all directions. Even if he strained his eyes, he couldn't make out where it began or ended.
But one thing he was certain of: both its starting point and its endpoint were inside the door.
Wait… had Salazar Slytherin become the door?
If anyone had been here, they would have seen Professor Fawley—always composed—wearing a stunned expression for the first time. He blinked several times in confusion, and with the faint dark circles around his eyes, he looked almost like a panda.
I don't know anything. After all, I'm just a little professor…
After thinking it over all night and nearly draining his magic, Tver still couldn't figure out what was going on with the door.
Luckily, he'd run into a similar situation in the Room of Requirement and already knew the Founders' secrets weren't easily uncovered. With that in mind, he let himself relax and left for now.
Frustration was unavoidable, but he had plenty of patience these days.
After all, an entire group of students was waiting for him to hand out their exams.
...
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