Late at night, in the dormitory.
Basil was pretending to sleep.
But in his mind, he wasn't replaying the trip to Diagon Alley with Hermione earlier that day.
Nor was he reminiscing about the Christmas feast: a hundred fat roast turkeys, mountains of roast meat and boiled potatoes, platters of chipolatas, tureens of buttered peas, boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce...
Or the wizard crackers that went off with a blast like a cannon every few steps along the table, engulfing the puller in blue smoke, and revealing gifts like white mice and bowler hats from inside.
In fact, he was observing Harry.
Don't get him wrong; he wasn't infected by the "British spirit." He just didn't know if Harry would go out wandering in his Invisibility Cloak tonight, if he would encounter the Mirror of Erised tonight, or if he would talk to Dumbledore tonight.
The movies and the novels were two different mediums.
He hadn't read the novels.
And the movies didn't specify which day during the Christmas holidays these events happened.
So, for the smooth execution of the Diary Destruction Plan, he needed to observe Harry in real-time and track his movements.
"Basil?" Harry crept over to his bedside, pulled back the deep red velvet curtains, and whispered.
Basil didn't answer. He knew Harry was just checking to see if he was asleep.
Sure enough, in the Hogwarts map in his mind, Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
Then he tiptoed and put on the Invisibility Cloak.
He vanished instantly into the darkness.
If Hogwarts weren't essentially Basil's second body right now...
He probably wouldn't have been able to detect Harry's presence.
He was curious where Harry would go.
In the movie, it was because he hadn't found out who Nicolas Flamel was that he thought of going to the Restricted Section of the library. What about now?
Harry had already reached the fourth floor.
But the library on the fifth floor (in some versions, or easily accessible from the fourth) had a shortcut to the second floor hidden behind a tapestry.
He still couldn't completely rule out the possibility that Harry wanted to go to the library.
Basil also began searching for Dumbledore's trace.
"Old pervert!"
Basil was startled. So startled he let out a burp that tasted of turkey and cake.
Dumbledore was standing right behind Harry. The Mirror of Erised was floating and moving along behind him.
Basil had never seen such a superb Disillusionment Charm. Not only were sound, body temperature, and appearance concealed...
Even his Magic Field was hidden to near non-existence. Perhaps due to Dumbledore's mastery of Occlumency?
But this was astounding. Hogwarts was essentially Basil's body. Dumbledore had practically deceived Hogwarts itself.
Right now, Dumbledore had his hands behind his back, observing Harry's every move with great interest from close range—sometimes getting very close.
If Basil didn't know about Harry being Voldemort's Horcrux, and that Dumbledore was likely observing that fragment of soul and Lily's protection, he would truly think Dumbledore was a dirty old man.
But even so, Basil couldn't help but mourn for Harry.
He had now discovered Harry's destination—the girls' bathroom on the second floor, the one with Moaning Myrtle, the one Basil had mentioned this morning as having a secret passage.
Currently, Dumbledore, the "old pervert," was looking at Harry with the eyes one uses to look at a pervert.
"Was I wrong? Should I not have let Harry grow up with the Dursleys, to the point where he likes girls' bathrooms? Petunia dislikes Harry not just because he's a wizard? Sigh, it seems having Mrs. Figg wasn't enough; I should have arranged for someone at Harry's primary school too. This problem could have been discovered and corrected earlier."
Just as Dumbledore was regretting his choices, Harry pushed open the bathroom door.
"Who's there?" A miserable, gurgling female voice rang out. "Peeves? Come to make fun of me again?"
"I'm not Peeves, Myrtle," Harry replied boldly.
He suddenly realized he could pretend to be a ghost. Being familiar with Nearly Headless Nick, he knew ghosts could turn invisible too.
And Myrtle was very antisocial and wasn't close with other ghosts.
Gloop! The sound of something emerging from a toilet was heard.
Followed by a splash of water on the floor.
The ghost of a squat girl drifted out through the stall door.
Her face was the glummest Harry had ever seen, half-hidden by lank hair and thick, pearly spectacles.
"What do you want?" she asked sullenly.
"I want to ask where the secret passage is, the one in this bathroom," Harry asked.
"You're not a ghost?" Myrtle shrieked. "Am I that easy to fool? I was sitting here minding my own business, thinking about my problems, on Christmas! And you come to make fun of poor Myrtle again!"
"Even though I'm dead, I still have feelings!"
"My life here had no joy, only sadness, and now that I'm dead, people still won't leave me alone!"
As she spoke, tears streamed rapidly from her small, transparent eyes.
"I never said I was a ghost!" Harry said hurriedly.
...
While Harry was desperately trying to soothe Myrtle, Dumbledore's expression turned serious.
He didn't relax just because Harry wasn't a pervert.
"Could it be that the creature that killed Myrtle came from the secret passage here? The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in the girls' bathroom? How does Harry know there's a secret passage here? Quirrell... or Tom?"
"However, Harry surely won't be able to ask anything. This secret passage and the Chamber cannot be discovered just by being a ghost, even if they can walk through walls."
"If they could, the Chamber wouldn't have remained undiscovered for a thousand years."
Dumbledore stroked his beard and thought.
However, that was assuming Basil didn't intervene.
Our Companion — The Wand mentioned: [As long as you are a wizard, you should be able to express your magic with almost any tool.]
And Hogwarts, if viewed as a whole, wasn't it also a tool?
Under the cover of the ancient castle's magnetic field, two Confundus Charms, appearing right against Myrtle and Harry's scalps, shot into them one after another.
So, Myrtle began to say: "I'll assume for now you weren't making fun of me."
Then, with a look of honor, she talked about her own death, "...I just remember seeing a pair of great, big yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away. And then I came back again. I was dead."
"If you insist there's a secret passage here, it should be where those eyes appeared." Myrtle floated over to the sinks and pointed to a copper tap with a tiny snake scratched into the side.
"I've heard rumors too—that I was killed by the monster in the Chamber of Secrets. Although some say it was the monster raised by that big oaf Hagrid (Harry gasped: Hagrid!), he was obviously a scapegoat. This tap has never worked. And it just happens to have a snake mark..."
Myrtle smiled smugly. "This must be the entrance to the secret passage. The way to open it might be related to Slytherin's most famous symbol—Parseltongue."
"Parseltongue? What's that?" Harry didn't have time to think about Hagrid; he had a bad feeling.
"You don't know?" Myrtle puffed up, clearly even more smug.
"It's the ability to talk to snakes."
Harry took off the Invisibility Cloak, looking dejected. "Then I am... a Parselmouth."