It happened suddenly.
"All students are to return to their respective houses immediately. All teachers are to gather in the staff room at once."
Instead of the break bell, what echoed through the halls was Professor McGonagall's magically amplified voice.
"Another attack? After Granger?"
Pansy let out an exasperated remark as we all filed back toward the Slytherin common room.
Inside the crowded common room, everyone was arguing about what had happened. Some wore anxious expressions, while others seemed convinced that they would be fine since they were pure-bloods.
**
After a short while, the common room door opened, and Professor Snape entered with a pale, ashen face.
Those who had been talking fell silent at once. As everyone focused on him, Professor Snape spoke.
"Ginny Weasley of Gryffindor has been taken by the monster to the Chamber of Secrets."
His voice echoed through the deathly quiet common room.
"At the scene, a message was written in blood. It read: 'Her bleached bones shall lie forever in the Chamber of Secrets.'"
From beside me came the sharp sound of Daphne drawing in a breath.
Ginny Weasley had been abducted. That fact carried far more weight in Slytherin House than the previous attacks.
"The Weasleys are pure-bloods, so why…?"
Someone muttered softly, and the words spread through the Slytherin students like ripples on water.
Until now, the victims had been Muggle-borns such as Justin and Colin, as well as Hermione. Somewhere deep down, the pure-bloods must have felt reassured that they themselves would be safe.
In a house that valued pure blood, they believed that even if a monster roamed Hogwarts, it would pass them by.
But they were forced to realize that this unfounded confidence was nothing more than an illusion. Perhaps the next one to be attacked would be themselves. That belated fear silenced everyone.
"The school will be closed. Tomorrow morning, you will return home on the Hogwarts Express. Pack your belongings immediately."
At Professor Snape's words, everyone hurried back to their rooms at once.
Everyone except me.
As I remained behind until the end, Professor Snape looked at me with suspicion.
"Celesteria, what is it?"
After hesitating for a moment, I steeled myself and asked,
"Well, um, what do the teachers plan to do about that monster?"
"Oh, that."
Professor Snape gave a spiteful smile and shrugged.
"There happens to be someone perfectly suited for the task. I have decided to leave it to him."
It was obvious that the "perfectly suited person" he meant was Professor Lockhart.
"If, by some stroke of luck, he manages to deal with it, so much the better. In that case, you may remain at Hogwarts."
With an expression that clearly suggested he did not believe that would happen, Professor Snape told me to return to my room and left the common room.
(Well, it's far too much for Professor Lockhart to handle.)
In fact, it is impossible. That man is no hero at all. He is nothing more than a reverse ghostwriter for heroes.
By now, he was probably being given an unreasonable demand he could not refuse, panicking as he prepared to flee in the night. Professor Snape and the others did not seem to expect much either. At the earliest, he would likely leave Hogwarts by tonight.
Frankly speaking, it was nothing more than the natural consequence of Professor Lockhart boasting too much. Still, on a personal level, he had helped me in various ways. Parting without even saying goodbye felt a little disappointing.
"…At least one person seeing him off wouldn't be so bad, right?"
**
When I headed toward Professor Lockhart's office, someone was already there.
"Professor, there's something we want to tell you."
"We think we can help."
"Please! Save my friend, Ginny!"
Standing outside the door were Harry, Ron, and Saya. From inside, Professor Lockhart peeked out, wearing an extremely annoyed expression.
"Ah, no, well, now isn't really a good time…"
At that moment, Professor Lockhart noticed me and stopped mid-sentence. The three Gryffindors turned to look at me as well.
"Elaina?"
"Elaina!"
"Yes, it's Elaina."
As I walked briskly up to Professor Lockhart, he hesitated briefly before saying, "Well… all right then," and let us into the room.
Inside, almost everything had already been packed away. Two large trunks sat on the floor. One was stuffed haphazardly with robes, while the other was crammed with books and photographs.
"Are you going somewhere?" Harry asked.
"I've been summoned urgently, you see… so unfortunately… I must go," Professor Lockhart replied vaguely as he rolled up one of his posters.
"What's going to happen to Ginny?"
"Yes, about that… truly a tragic affair. No one is more distressed by this than I am."
"But you're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!"
"Well, yes, but when I accepted this post, the job description did not include anything like this…"
As Saya and Ron voiced their accusations, Professor Lockhart could only mumble in response.
"Are you saying you're going to run away, Professor!? You, who did all those amazing things written in your books!?"
Harry shouted, looking utterly incredulous. Professor Lockhart replied with careful wording.
"Books can be misleading. Surely you understand that, Celesteria?"
With a look of utter despair, Professor Lockhart turned to me for support.
"Yes, I do."
As Harry and the others looked at me in confusion, I shrugged and continued.
"It's obvious if you think about it. When you compare the quality of Professor Lockhart's books with his actual lessons, the imbalance is clear. In other words, this man is nothing more and nothing less than a writer."
When I answered in his place, Harry and the others stared at me in disbelief.
"Even among great works, there are quite a few cases of reverse ghostwriters."
Among old Muggle novelists, there are many famous works by women who used male pen names due to the times, which allowed their masterpieces to gain recognition. The Brontë sisters, for example, are authors every British Muggle knows.
Even without going that far, Professor Lockhart's books are presented as autobiographies. Memoirs and autobiographies often contain a great deal of the author's subjectivity, frequently embellishing events or interpreting them in a way that suits the author.
"Most likely, he heard about adventurers somewhere, interviewed them, and then turned all of their achievements into the deeds of a fictional hero named 'Gilderoy Lockhart,' selling the stories that way."
Professor Lockhart gets to compile valuable adventure tales into books, the adventurers receive interviews and some royalty income, and readers get to enjoy the stories. That is probably how it works.
It sounds simple when put into words, but not everyone can do the same.
Organizing interviews into books, pitching them to bookstores, promoting them at signing events, and personally autographing fan letters are all respectable forms of work.
Even if the heroic deeds themselves were not truly his own, it would not be wrong to say that the results of such steady management were achieved through Professor Lockhart's own efforts.
"And besides," I continued.
"Professor Lockhart was invited to Hogwarts in the role of 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' teacher to begin with. A teaching position includes instructional duties such as lessons and grading, along with student guidance, career counseling, and sometimes even general administrative work. However, by any reasonable standard, fighting a monster falls outside the scope of a teacher's employment contract."
Under a normal job description, that would be entirely expected. Even if fighting monsters had been quietly included in the contract, filing a lawsuit on the grounds of an unfair contract would likely carry some weight.
His classes were hardly practical, but considering that last year's Professor Quirrell also focused mostly on theory, he might be dismissed for incompetence at most. Demanding anything beyond that would be legally difficult, to say the least.
"So even if Professor Lockhart were to run away, it would be hard to hold him criminally responsible. At best, he could be sued for neglect of duty due to fleeing in the night. However, if he argued that he was being forced to fight a monster not included in his job contract, the most likely outcome would be mutual fault."
When I finished speaking, an awkward silence settled over the room.
Of course, it was not that I did not understand how Harry and the others felt. It was simply that Professor Lockhart was under no obligation to risk his own life to save students. That sort of work belonged to the magical law enforcement authorities or Dark wizards hunters.
"So,"
I turned to Professor Lockhart and gave a small bow to the man, who looked somewhat bewildered.
"Goodbye, Professor Lockhart. Thank you for taking care of us this past year."
"…."
For a fleeting moment, Professor Lockhart wore an expression of anguish, as if he wanted to say something. Perhaps it was my imagination. Or perhaps there was something more.
No, that was not something I needed to concern myself with.
More importantly, when parting with a teacher who had helped me personally, I wanted it to be on good terms.
So I deliberately put on a playful smile and said to the solemn-looking author, Professor Lockhart,
"I'm looking forward to your next new book, Pro-fes-sor."
"…Y-yes! Of course you are!"
With that, Professor Lockhart returned his familiar wink. He was already back to his usual self, and before Harry and the others could stop him, he hurriedly bustled out of the room.
And just like that, Professor Lockhart vanished from our sight.
A few posters and signed books were still scattered around the room, but it would not be long before the Hogwarts house-elves cleaned everything away in preparation for the next Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
As if no one had ever been there to begin with.
**
"Well then."
I turned to Harry and the others and said a single sentence.
"Please don't make such scary faces. To be honest, I'm aware that what I did earlier was selfish. If there's anything I can help with, I'll at least lend a hand."
At that, Harry exchanged looks with Ron and Saya, then tilted his head and signaled, "Let's go."
"We know where the Chamber of Secrets is."
"And we know what's inside."
"With Elaina here, we'll be unstoppable!"
"By the way, what exactly is in there?"
"A basilisk."
The word that came from Harry's mouth brought both mild surprise and understanding.
The basilisk, king of venomous serpents. A gigantic snake monster born from a chicken's egg hatched beneath a toad. With a lifespan of hundreds or even thousands of years, fangs bearing a corrosive venom said to kill anything, and above all, eyes that kill anyone who meets their gaze.
"You're saying we're going to defeat something like that now?"
"To save Ginny."
"…Well, I suppose it can't be helped."
Overwhelmed by Harry and the others' forceful determination, I followed them down the stairs, through the dark corridors, until we arrived at the girls' bathroom haunted by Moaning Myrtle.
"Here it is."
"…You knew this place? Even though it's a girls' bathroom?"
When I said that with a narrowed gaze, Harry and Ron looked awkwardly uncomfortable.
"W-what!? Don't tell me…"
"Saya, no further than that."
As Saya turned bright red and backed away from the two boys, stammering, I gently said to her,
"Boys that age are just like that. You should be careful too, Saya."
"Y-yes!"
"No, that's not it! The reason we know about this place is, well… um…"
Apparently unable to come up with a good excuse, Harry shot Ron a desperate look for help.
"Uh, well, you see… ah, right! Salazar Slytherin was actually a pervert and—"
Just as Ron tried to cover it up with a blatant lie, Moaning Myrtle suddenly popped out of the toilet and spoke as soon as she saw them.
"Oh, it's you lot. What do you want this time?"
"This time?"
Reacting to those words I could not ignore, I spoke up, while Harry and Ron turned even redder and tried to brush it off with a completely unconvincing, "It's nothing."
"Myrtle, I want to hear about what happened when you died," Harry said hurriedly, trying to change the subject.
Myrtle immediately began speaking, clearly delighted.
"I remember it clearly. It was terrifying. I was crying with the door locked when someone came in and started saying something in a foreign language. And it was a boy's voice, too. I hated it, so I was going to say, 'Go away, use the boys' bathroom!' When I unlocked the door… I died."
Myrtle lowered her voice to a whisper.
"I don't know what caused it. All I remember is seeing two huge yellow eyes. When I looked at them, my whole body froze, then I felt myself floating up, and before I knew it, I came back as a ghost."
"Those eyes, exactly where did you see them?" Harry asked.
Myrtle pointed toward the sinks.
"At first glance, it looks like an ordinary sink… but wait."
Looking closely, beside a bronze faucet was a small snake carved as if it had been scratched into the surface.
"Harry, try saying something in Parseltongue," Ron said.
Harry stared intently at the faucet, as if trying to convince himself it was a real snake.
After a moment, a strange hissing sound leaked from Harry's mouth.
The faucet began to rotate, and the sink started to move. As it sank down, a thick pipe was revealed beneath it.
"…Another underground tunnel?"
It felt like I had experienced something similar last year.
"Then we'll manage, just like last time," Ron said with a shrug.
Letting out a small sigh, I steeled myself. Then, in the order of Harry, me, Saya, and Ron, we were once again swallowed into the endless underground depths of Hogwarts, one year later.
(End of chapter)
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