Chapter 38 - Resolve

"The match can't go on, and Gryffindor can't win the Cup — isn't that a good thing?"

Praeris heard several Slytherins chatting nearby.

Another Slytherin said in a wistful tone, "Forget the match. If this keeps up, Hogwarts might just close for good."

"That doesn't sound bad — no end-of-term exams then!"

Praeris was curled up in an armchair, the book in her hands left un-turned for a long while.

It sounded preposterous, but it was entirely possible. Parents wouldn't let their children fall into danger again and again. The Board of Governors would most likely suspend Hogwarts for a thorough overhaul until the danger was completely eradicated.

Malfoy let out a mocking laugh. "They might even change the Headmaster! If Dumbledore's not up to it, I'd say Professor Snape would be a fine replacement."

Zabini said loudly, "A new Headmaster's fine, and a suspension's not bad either. If you ask me, we'd get to go home — unlike some people..."

"You're making me look forward to what'll happen to Potter. He'll have to crawl back to his Muggle aunt's house and never use magic again!" Malfoy burst out laughing.

Praeris stared blankly at the flickering flames in the fireplace, her fingers gripping the pages so tightly they creased, her face pale.

Yes. How could she have forgotten?

If not for Professor Snape vouching for her, she could never have stayed above the shop in Diagon Alley over the summer. But if things got so bad the school closed, she, an orphan with no guardian, would certainly be sent straight back to the orphanage.

Praeris felt her stomach churn violently. Even sitting right in front of the fireplace, her hands and feet were as cold as if she were standing in snow. She could almost hear the church bells and the priest's flat, emotionless chanting. She could almost see the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows, bright but stripped of all warmth. She could almost feel the chilblains that hadn't flared up in 2 years throbbing with phantom pain across her knuckles again.

She had to do something, without the other Slytherins finding out. This wasn't for Hermione Granger. This was for her own interests, so Hogwarts wouldn't close and she wouldn't be kicked back to the orphanage.

.

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had gone on a great adventure the night before. They had nearly been eaten by that giant spider Aragog that Hagrid had once secretly kept.

Oh no, by Aragog's children.

Or maybe grandchildren.

That didn't matter! What mattered was that they had confirmed Hagrid wasn't the Heir of the Chamber of Secrets.

Beyond that, there was another problem they couldn't solve: a letter addressed to Hermione Granger.

The letter had arrived the day Hermione was Petrified. It was written on parchment, with no mark or crest on it, not even a signature.

The letter read:

Granger,

Stop investigating. And most importantly, don't let anyone know you've come close to the answer. If you want to know more, still the Astronomy Tower. I will tell you everything in full.

"I bet this is from the Heir!" Ron said. "Because Hermione figured out the truth, so he had to deal with her, to stop us investigating any further."

Harry disagreed. "Hermione isn't our brains. It's not like we can't do anything without her. All right, Hermione is our brains. Ugh, that's not what I meant. I mean, Hermione is clever, but without her, we'll still keep investigating."

"Most importantly, how can we just read Hermione's letter in private!" Harry said.

Ron waved a hand. "Did we actually choose to open it?"

At mealtime, Hermione's owl had circled above the Gryffindors, unable to find its owner.

Ron wanted to take the letter for Hermione, preferably tucking it inside a book she hadn't finished.

"So the moment she's better, she'll see it straight away," Ron said.

Who could have guessed that Ron's hand would slip and the letter would fall into a drink, leaving half the parchment reeking of carrot juice.

"We've got to dry it out," Harry said despairingly. "Hermione will kill us."

Ron came up with a daft idea, drying it by the fireplace.

The fireplace set the envelope alight. The two of them scrambled frantically to rescue it, and the letter itself fell out.

That very night, they staked out near the terrace, but no one came.

"I thought as much. Everyone knows Hermione's been Petrified. Why would he still show up for a meeting?"

Ron was a complete hindsight expert, he'd been the one shouting about catching the culprit earlier.

This morning, as soon as Harry got up, he saw a letter that had landed by his bedside.

"At a time like this, who'd write to you?"

Ron and Harry exchanged a look. They examined it back and forth to make sure there was no Dark Magic on it before they got ready to open the envelope.

In truth, they hadn't actually been all that sure, but that wasn't important either.

Harry tore open the envelope. Inside was half a sheet of familiar parchment!

"I bet it matches Hermione's half," Ron said.

Potter,

I know you've taken the letter I sent to Granger, don't you?

"Has he been watching us the whole time!" Ron jumped in fright.

The letter read: I cannot reveal my identity, but I hope you will believe what I say next.

Ron said, "Hiding behind anonymity!"

Harry said quietly, "Let's finish reading first."

Rubeus Hagrid is absolutely not the master of the Chamber. You have been deceived by the diary.

"We already knew that," Ron said. "All right — half a day counts as early, right?"

The master of the Chamber, the Heir of Slytherin, is the Tom inside the diary. You need to find that diary as quickly as possible! Do not think I'm just crying wolf, you need to find the diary immediately! Based on Granger's deductions, the person who stole the diary is still inside Gryffindor. Look for the person around you who has recently been in extremely poor mental condition and very pale. Resolve the diary, and you resolve the Petrifications.

Harry said in astonishment, "How is that possible? I mean, it was Tom who solved the Chamber problem! He even got a Special Award for Services to the School, didn't he?"

"Oh, the sort of person he's describing — you won't find one in Gryffindor, but you can grab a whole handful in Slytherin," Ron said sarcastically. "Pale face — that's just Malfoy, isn't it?"

For special reasons, I am unable to offer you any substantial help. If you truly cannot identify who this person is, then the final option is: consider finding a way to ask Myrtle. She was the victim 50 years ago. Don't tell me you can't get into the girls' lavatory, as far as I know, you've been in there more than once.

"Hermione's told him everything!" Ron said indignantly. "He probably even knows what Hermione had for breakfast."

Harry read on to the very end. At the bottom of the letter was a signature: spoon.

"Spoon?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other, having no idea what that name was supposed to mean.

In any case, this wizard Spoon, whether mister or miss, had provided what Harry and Ron considered utterly useless help.

"It's not useless. At least we know we can ask Myrtle," Harry said.

Next, just as they were planning to sneak into the girls' lavatory, they were caught by Professor McGonagall. Harry made the excuse of wanting to visit Hermione, and from her clenched hand he found the clues "basilisk" and "pipes."

"Pipes! I've got it! The basilisk is inside the pipes. Spoon said to ask Myrtle, it's very likely Myrtle knows where the entrance to the Chamber is. Maybe it's right in her lavatory!"

Spoon's clues leaned more toward finding the diary and being done with it, after all, without the diary, there would be no one controlling the basilisk, but brushed lightly over the Chamber itself, unwilling to discuss it further.

Hermione, on the other hand, had leaned more toward finding the Chamber and the monster inside it.

The clues from both people helped Harry and Ron push their investigation forward quickly.

What Harry and Ron didn't know was that Praeris naturally preferred that they deal with the mysterious person's diary rather than the Chamber.

From the very start, that had been her line of thinking.

She was a Slytherin. She genuinely didn't want people from other houses barging into Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets. Moreover, the danger of a basilisk was not something 2 second-year boys could handle.

Sending them after the basilisk would be like throwing an egg against a rock. She far preferred that they find the diary as soon as possible and get that Dark Magic artifact of the mysterious person sealed away.

.

Praeris clasped her hands together, fingers interlaced in front of her chest, eyes tightly shut.

This was a leftover habit from the orphanage, but she was not praying right now. When she could not act herself and could only rely on waiting, she would unconsciously assume this posture.

She had never believed prayer did any good. Even after arriving in the wizarding world, she never said things like "Merlin's beard!" or "Merlin's socks!" and such.

She didn't believe in the Heavenly Father, nor in Merlin. She believed only in the strength of people.

Praeris had already laid a path to solving the problem right in front of them, detailed down to the characteristics of the diary's holder.

As long as they searched quickly enough, they could act before the diary lured its next person,

"All students are to return to their house dormitories immediately. All teachers are to return to the staff room. Please act at once."

Praeris opened her eyes and slowly lifted her head.

BANG,

Marcus Flint burst in. "Listen up, everyone check whether your roommates are here! Farley, the girls are on you."

The Slytherin common room was in chaos. No one was allowed out, only in. Everyone was searching for their close friends.

The moment Millicent Bulstrode rushed through the common room entrance, she cried out in a tearful voice, "Praeris!"

"I'm here!" Praeris quickly raised her hand.

Millicent sniffled twice. "I thought it'd be like last year..."

"I won't always be that unlucky, Milly," Praeris said, a little exasperated.

But it really wasn't very lucky.

From Prefect Farley, Praeris got the news: Ginny Weasley was missing.

This was an even worse situation. The worst outcome she had anticipated was exactly this.

No need for deep thought. Ginny had been chosen by the diary again. Her willpower and vitality had already been nearly worn away the first time she was chosen. Right now, she had no way to resist the erosion of Dark Magic.

Now she was being controlled, taking the diary somewhere even the professors couldn't find.

Where could that place be? Another stupid question, obviously, the Chamber of Secrets.

Praeris had no choice but to confront the problem she didn't want to face. If she didn't make a decision now, she'd be sent back to the orphanage, today, tomorrow, or the day after.

All right, Praeris. Tell me: where do you think the Chamber is?

The fundamental geography of Hogwarts constructed itself inside Praeris's mind. Countless pipes linked one lavatory after another. All the information about Slytherin and the Chamber deconstructed and reassembled in her thoughts.

It was Myrtle's lavatory.

Both times the mysterious person had acted, 50 years apart, had been near that lavatory. 50 years ago, the mysterious person had killed Myrtle and then chosen to pin the whole affair on Hagrid.

No matter how she looked at it, Praeris could not find a single reason to convince herself that the mysterious person had killed Myrtle for the sake of framing Hagrid.

Hagrid was no rival to him, at the time, he was already Head Boy. Killing Myrtle would only have damaged his perfect image back then. His surface persona at that point was more like a Percy Weasley, desperately cultivating his reputation.

Framing Hagrid had been a desperate last resort, taken because there was no other choice.

What did that tell her? It told her that Myrtle's death had also been an accident for him, not something he had planned. Otherwise, he would have had a better contingency prepared, or would have derived some subsequent benefit from it.

This was also why Praeris believed the entrance to the Chamber was in Myrtle's lavatory. Precisely because the entrance was right there, Myrtle had accidentally encountered the basilisk and been killed by it.

And precisely because the entrance was there, the Dark Magic artifact controlling the basilisk again 50 years later had accidentally Petrified Mrs Norris first, rather than starting with their intended target: Muggle-born wizards.

So what was the method for opening the Chamber? Parseltongue.

This was the conclusion Praeris reached by thinking from a Slytherin's perspective. He loathed betrayal and believed only pure-blood wizards would never betray their own.

Under those conditions, how could he guarantee that only his own would ever open the Chamber? Given his trust in bloodlines, he would only trust descendants who carried his own blood.

But even his own children, even if he married only pure-bloods forever, would have blood that was no longer identical to his, and could not serve as the key to controlling the Chamber's opening. Suppose he used an heirloom passed down through generations, that, too, could be stolen.

Only Parseltongue. Only those with Slytherin blood could speak Parseltongue, and it could never be stolen.

Praeris strode toward the dormitory, pulled out a slip of paper and was about to write, but then stopped and switched her quill to her left hand.

She wrote her deductions onto a blank, unmarked sheet of parchment, hoping that through her account she could guide the professors into the Chamber and find Ginny Weasley.

It wasn't difficult, was it? All they needed was to bring Potter, a Parselmouth, and they could open the door. Then Dumbledore would resolve everything else.

What? You say Dumbledore isn't at the school? Then there's still Professor Snape.

In any case!

Praeris gasped for breath as she held up the letter.

In any case, everything would be all right. She wouldn't be expelled from Hogwarts. The Weasley girl wouldn't die. Granger would wake up.

Praeris dried the letter and called her owl over.

"Good girl. I know you're clever. Take this letter to the staff room door. Don't let anyone see you, can you do that?"

➤ Next: The Grey Wolf and the King