The next morning arrives with a pale streak of sunlight filtering through the windows. Adam has barely slept, his mind preoccupied with the weight of the plan and the possibility of something going catastrophically wrong. His thoughts race endlessly, tangled with worry, until a small sense of relief breaks through the haze. A letter arrives, its edges still crisp from the Seraphina swift journey, carrying his brother's reply. Lucian, ever dependable and sharp, has not only understood the urgency but already begun to act. He has started mobilizing Ministry Aurors and a select group of trusted family wizards, just as Adam had carefully instructed Lucian to arrange days earlier. The letter details their plan to rendezvous under the cover of darkness, just outside the protective boundaries of Hogwarts. With this assurance, a weight lifts off Adam’s chest, allowing him to redirect his thoughts toward the unfolding events within the school.

Determined to stay ahead of whatever lies ahead, Adam makes his way to the hospital wing early. The sight that greets him is grim yet familiar—Harry and Ron are huddled near Hermione’s bed, their faces etched with worry and exhaustion. Hermione remains motionless, her pale face stark against the white pillow, a silent testament to the mystery they are unraveling. The tension in the air is thick, and Adam instantly senses that the two boys have faced the Aragog colony in forbidden forest.

As soon as he approaches, they both look up, relief and urgency flashing across their expressions. It doesn’t take long before the story spills out in rushed, overlapping words.

"Are you two all right?" Adam asks, his voice steady but tinged with concern. His gaze shifts between the two, searching for any hidden injuries beyond their outward disheveled appearances.

Ron grimaces, his hand instinctively running through his hair. "Barely. We’re lucky to be alive, honestly. Those spiders, Adam—they almost got us. Almost."

Harry, ever the one to focus on the bigger picture, cuts in, his voice tight but resolute. "But we found out something crucial. Aragog told us Hagrid isn’t the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets. And he isn’t the monster either."

For a moment, Adam hesitates, his thoughts flickering to memories of his own encounters with Hagrid’s peculiar but harmless friend. His lips curve into a faint, knowing smile. It’s time, he decides, to let them in on a truth he’s kept to himself. "I already knew that about Aragog," he admits, his voice measured. "Hagrid used to take me to visit him every weekend. We’re… friends."

Ron’s jaw drops, his expression hovering somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. "I knew it! If there’s a magical creature involved, you’re always in the middle of it."

Harry’s brows knit together, his sharp gaze now focused entirely on Adam. "Why didn’t you tell us before?" he asks, his tone more curious than accusatory.

Adam shrugs, his stance relaxed but his tone edged with apology. "Ron’s not exactly a fan of spiders," he explains, glancing at the redhead with a faint smirk. "And Aragog’s… well, enormous. Didn’t think it was worth mentioning unless it became absolutely necessary."

Ron shudders visibly at the memory of the colossal spider, muttering half to himself, "We should’ve brought Adam along. He’d have handled it better."

Adam chuckles softly, shaking his head. "Even if I’d gone, Aragog’s colony might’ve tried to eat me too. They don’t exactly follow Hagrid’s goodwill unless you’ve earned their trust. And trust me, that’s no easy task."

The conversation lightens slightly, but the weight of the morning’s revelations lingers. Ron lets out a relieved sigh, though his face remains a touch paler than usual. Together, they decide to leave the hospital wing for their classes.

Later that afternoon, the three boys return to Hermione’s side in the hospital wing, their minds racing to piece together the clues that might crack the mystery wide open. The oppressive silence of the room presses down on them as they talk through every possible lead, but frustration looms over their efforts. Each dead end feels heavier than the last, until something catches Harry’s eye.

His gaze falls on Hermione’s hand—her fingers frozen mid-clench around what appears to be a crumpled piece of parchment. Leaning closer, Harry gently eases it free, careful not to disturb her still form. As he smooths it out, his eyes widen, and his breath catches in his throat.

"This is it!" Harry exclaims, his voice breaking the silence like a lightning strike. "This must be what she found before she was attacked!"

Ron leaned in as they made their way outside, their faces taut with anticipation. The faded writing on the parchment was hurried but legible, and what it revealed sent a jolt of realization through them all: the monster is a Basilisk. The words seemed to leap off the page, and suddenly, everything began to make sense.

"The puzzle pieces fit," Harry mutters, half to himself. "The spiders fear it. That’s why they’ve been running away, why Aragog didn’t want to talk about it." His voice grows more certain as he continues, "And I’ve been hearing it because it’s a snake. It’s speaking in snake language."

Adam nods and adds context. "That explains why no one has died," he says, his voice calm but tinged with urgency. "The victims must have only seen its reflection or an indirect image. That’s the only reason they were petrified instead of killed."

Harry’s mind flashed through each attack as he began recounting the incidents aloud. "Hermione must have seen it in a mirror. Colin’s camera—it caught the Basilisk’s reflection in the lens. Mrs. Norris saw it in the puddle of water on the floor. And Justin must’ve seen it through Nearly Headless Nick, who’s already dead and can’t be killed again."

The corridor seems to close in around them as the implications sink deeper. Then Harry’s expression shifts, his eyes lighting up with sudden clarity as he read further. "The pipes!" he exclaims, his voice sharper now. "That’s how it’s been moving around the school! The plumbing connects everything. It’s been using the pipes to stay hidden."

Ron frowns, his brow furrowed in confusion. "But what about the girl who died fifty years ago?" he asks, his voice hesitant. "She must’ve seen it directly, right? No reflection or anything like that."

Adam’s expression darkens, his eyes narrowing in thought. "If that’s the case…" he begins, but Harry’s realization cuts him off.

"What if she’s still here?" Harry whispers, his voice barely audible. The words hang in the air for a moment, heavy with possibility. "Moaning Myrtle. She’s the girl who died.

Adam asked, "Is there anything else written?" Harry nodded and read aloud, "The Basilisk is a misunderstood creature that only follows orders. It should not be killed unless it’s absolutely impossible to save yourself." This was what Adam wanted Harry to know and remember for later.

They exchange glances, their determination hardening into a shared resolve. They’re on the verge of uncovering the truth. But before they can act, a sharp, amplified voice through Loudspeakers echoes throughout the castle, halting them in their tracks.

"All students must return to their dormitories immediately. Professors, please report to the second-floor corridor."

The boys freeze, their eyes darting toward one another. Without a word, they make thier way towards the second-floor corridor.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The three boys hurried toward the second-floor corridor, staying hidden in the shadows behind a stone wall. From their concealed vantage point, they could see a group of professors gathered in the dimly lit hallway, their faces pale and etched with worry. Professor McGonagall stood at the center, speaking in a low, urgent tone to Snape and a few others. Behind her, ominous red writing scrawled across the wall in blood sent chills through their veins:

Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.

"It’s Ginny," a professor whispered, the words barely audible but striking like a thunderclap. "She’s been taken."

Harry's heart sank, the weight of the revelation nearly making him stumble. Beside him, Ron stifled a gasp, his face draining of color. The tension in the air was thick, heavy with dread, as the professors debated their next move.

Their grave discussion was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Gilderoy Lockhart, who swaggered into view with his usual exaggerated bravado. His robes billowed behind him as he flashed what he clearly thought was a reassuring smile.

Snape’s lips curled into a sneer as he regarded the man with barely veiled contempt. "Well then, Professor Lockhart," Snape drawled, his voice dripping with disdain, "this is your chance to prove your worth. After all, weren’t you just boasting about your extensive experience with dangerous monsters and finding the Chamber?"

Lockhart puffed out his chest, adopting a theatrical pose. "No need to fear! I’ll handle this," he declared, his voice booming with fake confidence.

Professor McGonagall’s expression was equally scathing, her lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line. She gave Lockhart a curt nod, though her eyes betrayed her doubt, before turning back to the other professors. Slowly, they began to disperse, leaving Lockhart standing alone.

As soon as the corridor cleared, Lockhart’s confident facade crumbled. His shoulders slumped, and he muttered something unintelligible under his breath before turning on his heel and scurrying away in the direction of his office.

Adam exchanged a glance with Harry and Ron, his face grim. "He’s going to run," he said, his voice firm. "We can’t let him."

Without waiting for a response, they followed Lockhart, keeping a safe distance as he darted through the hallways. They arrived at his office just in time to see him hastily stuffing robes, books, and various trinkets into a large suitcase. His hands fumbled with the clasp as he worked in a panic, all trace of his earlier bravado gone.

Ron was the first to confront him, storming into the room with a glare that could rival his mother’s. "Where are you going, Professor?" he demanded, his voice loud and accusatory. "Trying to run away?"

Lockhart jumped at the sudden intrusion, his head snapping up. "I—uh—I’m… regrouping!" he stammered, his tone defensive as he straightened his tie. "Yes, a strategic retreat, you see. Very important in situations like this…"

Adam stepped forward, his wand already in hand, his expression cold and unyielding. "Drop the act, Lockhart," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "We know you’re not the powerful wizard you pretend to be. You’re a fraud."

Lockhart’s face paled, and for a moment, he looked as though he might deny it. Then, realizing the futility, he let out a defeated sigh. "Fine," he admitted, throwing his hands in the air. "I admit it. I never did half the things I wrote about. I’m… good at memory charms, you see. Took the credit, erased their memories. It’s all perfectly harmless…"

"Perfectly harmless?" Harry hissed, his anger bubbling to the surface.

Lockhart ignored him, his hand inching toward his wand. "And now, if you don’t mind," he said, his tone suddenly cold, "I’ll be erasing your memories too. Can’t have you running off and ruining my reputation."

Harry and Ron tensed as Lockhart made a move for his wand, but Adam’s reflexes were faster. With a sharp flick of his wrist, Lockhart’s wand flew across the room, clattering to the floor. Lockhart froze, his bravado crumbling once again under Adam’s unwavering glare.

"You’re coming with us," Adam said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Lockhart opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it when Adam raised his wand a fraction higher. Reluctantly, the professor slumped in defeat and nodded.

Adam turned to Harry and Ron, his expression serious. "Take him to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom," he instructed. "Find the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. I’ll meet you there with backup."

Harry frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Backup? The three of us can handle this, Adam. We don’t need anyone else."

Ron nodded in agreement, though his voice wavered. "Yeah, I mean, we’ve gotten this far, haven’t we?"

Adam’s gaze hardened. "We’re about to go up against a Basilisk," he said bluntly. "It’s not just some giant spider or a pack of Cornish Pixies. We’re going to need all the help we can get."

Harry opened his mouth to argue but quickly shut it again, realizing the truth of Adam’s words. With a reluctant nod, he turned to leave, dragging a protesting Lockhart behind him.

Adam watched them go before turning on his heel and making his way outside the castle.

Adam slipped out of the castle under the cover of darkness, the chill of the evening air biting at his skin. The grounds were silent, save for the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl. Moving with practiced stealth, he made his way to the edge of the Great Lake, where a small group of figures awaited him.

Lucian stood at the forefront, his sharp features illuminated by the moonlight. Behind him, a mix of twenty wizards, comprised of ministry Aurors and trusted family allies, waited in a tense silence. Their postures were rigid, their wands at the ready, as though bracing for an attack.

Lucian stepped forward as Adam approached. "Is everything prepared?" he asked, his voice low but steady.

Adam nodded, reaching into his satchel to pull out a small pouch of fish. He didn’t respond immediately, his focus on the dark, rippling surface of the lake. Tossing the fish into the water, he waited, the anticipation thick in the air.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the lake’s surface broke with a violent ripple. Waves churned as a massive shadow emerged from the depths, rising higher and higher until the wizards could see it in its full, terrifying glory. Argos, the kraken-like creature, loomed above them, his immense tentacles writhing like serpents. Gasps echoed among the group, a few of the wizards instinctively stepping back.

"Don’t worry," Adam said quickly, his voice calm but commanding. "Argos is a friend. He’s here to help."

The massive creature let out a deep rumble, the sound reverberating through the still night air like distant thunder. Adam stepped closer to the water’s edge, speaking in a gentle but firm tone. "Argos, we need your help to reach the school’s plumbing system. Can you take us?"

Argos tilted his massive head, his glowing eyes fixed on Adam, before releasing another low, resonant sound of agreement.

Adam turned to the group of wizards. "Prepare yourselves," he instructed. "Water-repelling charms, underwater breathing apparatus—whatever you’ve got. We’ll need to move quickly."

The wizards nodded, their expressions resolute as they began casting charms and securing equipment. Once ready, they approached the edge of the lake, some with visible hesitation.

One by one, Argos used his powerful tentacles to lift the wizards into the water. Adam was the last of the group to climb aboard, as he was leaving Lucian and a few others behind to wait. He gripped the smooth, cool surface of the creature’s appendage as it lowered him into the dark, frigid depths..

The underwater journey was eerily silent, broken only by the occasional hum of Argos’s movements and the faint, distorted echoes of the lake’s ecosystem. The wizards clung tightly to the creature’s tentacles, their eyes wide as they navigated through the murky expanse.

At last, they arrived at their destination: the school’s plumbing system. The enormous steel barriers blocking the entrance gleamed faintly in the filtered moonlight. Argos paused, and the wizards dismounted, moving quickly to assess the obstruction.

An older wizard stepped forward, his wand raised. "On my mark," he instructed. A series of synchronized spells followed—Cutting Charms, Blasting Curses, and Transfiguration work—breaking through the barriers with remarkable efficiency.

As the final pieces of steel crumbled away, Adam turned back to Argos. He placed a hand on the creature’s tentacle, his expression one of both gratitude and urgency. "I’ll need you to come with us," he said, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

With a flick of his wand, Adam performed a combination of Transfiguration and a Shrinking Charm. Argos let out a soft, almost playful rumble as his enormous form began to shrink, condensing into a manageable size that fit neatly into Adam’s outstretched hand. Carefully, Adam placed the now-small creature into his robe pocket.

"Let’s move," Adam ordered, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. He led the wizards into the tunnel, the atmosphere growing colder and more foreboding with every step.

The path ahead was treacherous, the air thick with an unsettling sense of dread. Adam’s mind raced, his thoughts split between his companions and the events likely unfolding elsewhere in the castle. He knew Harry would already be trying to open the Chamber, while Ron and Lockhart were probably stranded on the other side of the collapsed tunnel.

But Adam’s focus was singular. His goal was not just to assist his friends—it was to reach the Chamber of Secrets and protect the Basilisk from it's fate.