The Monster Among Us

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The Great Hall hummed with a nervous energy that Harry hadn't felt since Quirrell's turbaned head had exploded into Voldemort-flavored smoke last year. Every whispered conversation, every furtive glance toward the Slytherin table, every dramatically lowered newspaper revealed the same topic: The Chamber of Secrets.

"Pass the marmalade, would you?" Harry asked Susan Bones, deliberately ignoring a group of Hufflepuff third-years who'd been staring at him since he'd sat down.

Better get used to it, he thought. Potter the Slytherin, Potter who just happened to be near a petrified cat and bloody wall message. I might as well wear a sign saying 'Definitely the Heir of Slytherin, Ask Me How!'

Susan slid the marmalade jar over while casting a protective glare at her housemates. "They're being ridiculous," she muttered. "As if you'd harm anyone's cat when you have your own."

Beneath the table, Itisa sat unnaturally still, her golden eyes constantly scanning the hall, ears swiveling at the slightest noise. Harry dropped a piece of bacon for her, but the disguised Nundu merely sniffed it and returned to her vigilance.

"Even Itisa's on edge," Harry observed quietly.

Hermione Granger dropped onto the bench across from them, her hair even more frazzled than usual, dark circles shadowing her eyes.

"I was in the library until Madam Pince practically dragged me out," she announced without preamble, pulling a thick piece of toast toward her. "And I found precisely nothing about the Chamber of Secrets. Not one reliable source."

"Good morning to you too, Hermione," Harry said, lips quirking.

Hermione had the grace to look slightly abashed. "Sorry. Good morning. I'm just frustrated. How can a chamber like this be build have no documentation? I checked Hogwarts: A History three times."

"because secret chambers are supposed to remain... you know... secret." Anna stifled a small cough with her napkin.

"Feeling alright today?" Harry asked, noticing the unusual pallor of her skin.

Anna waved away his concern. "Just tired. Been having odd dreams."

"About the Chamber?" Susan asked.

"No, about dancing teacups with very judgy personalities," Anna replied dryly. "Of course about the Chamber. Everyone is."

"I'm not surprised there are no records," Sebastian said, carefully buttering a scone. "Think about it—this castle is over a thousand years old. How many rooms and passages have been forgotten over the centuries? How many secrets are buried by time?"

Or hidden deliberately, Harry thought, remembering the chambers he and Sebastian had discovered beneath the dungeons. He'd insisted they hold off on further exploration after the Chamber of Secrets revelation, but now he wondered how many other secret chambers were out there.

"My uncle Alaric once told me that only a fraction of Hogwarts's secrets are known to the current staff and students," Anna added quietly. "He said only the Founders knew all the secrets, and they died centuries ago."

Harry glanced toward the staff table, where Professor Dumbledore sat deep in conversation with Professor McGonagall. The Headmaster's usual serene demeanor appeared slightly strained, though he maintained his calm in a way Harry found both reassuring and, given the circumstances, slightly unnerving.

Professor Mirabel Garlick, the young Head of Hufflepuff, was patting the hand of tiny Professor Flitwick. At twenty-seven, despite her youth, or perhaps because of it, she'd quickly become a favorite among students for her warm demeanor and genuine concern for their wellbeing.

"Professor Garlick looks worried," Susan noted, following Harry's gaze. "And she's usually so positive about everything."

"Well, it's difficult to remain positive when the school is not safe, is it?" Sebastian replied dryly.

Harry's attention was drawn by a dreamy voice to his left.

"Hello, Harry," Luna said placidly, as if they were meeting for afternoon tea rather than breakfast after a monstrous attack. "The Wrackspurts are quite active today. Everyone's brains are especially fuzzy."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and shook her head, and she seemed like she wanted to say something to Luna, but Harry spoke first.

"Hi, Luna," Harry said, feeling a genuine smile form despite everything. "How are things in Ravenclaw this morning?"

"Oh, quite chaotic," she replied, serving herself a bowl of porridge. "Everyone's theorizing about the Chamber. Penelope Clearwater thinks it's an elaborate prank by the Weasley twins, but I told her they wouldn't use blood in their jokes. It attracts Heliopaths."

The Weasley twins sat further down the Gryffindor table, their usual mischievous grins noticeably absent. Harry caught Fred's eye—or was it George?—and received a solemn nod in return. Even the school's premier pranksters recognize when something crosses the line from mischief to menace, he thought.

"I've noticed Ginny seems to have been hit the hardest," Luna continued, stirring an alarming amount of honey into her porridge. "She hasn't spoken all morning."

Harry followed Luna's gaze to where the youngest Weasley sat, separated slightly from her housemates. Ginny's face was ashen, her eyes ringed with dark circles that suggested a sleepless night. While many students looked frightened, Ginny's expression held something that seemed closer to dread.

"I suppose it must be especially scary for first-years," Hermione observed, though she sounded uncertain.

"Maybe," Harry said, unconvinced. Something about Ginny's demeanor struck him as odd, more than simple fear. But then, I barely know her. Perhaps that's just how she responds to stress.

"What I don't understand," Astoria said, appearing suddenly and squeezing onto the bench beside her sister Daphne, who had joined them silently moments before, "is why someone would want to open this Chamber now. What's the point?"

"To purge the school of those 'unworthy to study magic,'" Sebastian quoted grimly. "At least, that's the legend."

"But that's ridiculous," Susan protested. "Hasn't that whole blood purity nonsense been debunked? Some of the most powerful wizards of our time are half-bloods or Muggle-born."

Harry felt the weight of several glances, the unspoken acknowledgment of his own half-blood status hanging in the air. And mine may not be the only unusual blood represented at this table, he thought, with a brief glance toward Itisa, who lay curled beneath the bench. After her strange transformation the previous night, she'd returned to her usual feline disguise, but Harry remained concerned. Whatever had triggered her response—that voice in the walls—clearly wasn't ordinary magic.

"Logic rarely factors into extremism," Daphne said coolly, speaking for the first time. "And ancient prejudices die hard, especially in wizarding families."

Their conversation paused as Professor Garlick walked past. Several older boys followed her progress with appreciative glances, which she either didn't notice or professionally ignored.

"I heard Professor Garlick is working on the Mandrakes," Susan said after the young Herbology professor passed. "Professor Dumbledore said last night that they can help someone who is petrefied."

"Fat lot of good that does now," Astoria murmured. "Mandrakes take months to mature."

"Better than nothing," Hermione countered. "And at least we know Mrs. Norris can be revived."

A loud laugh from the Gryffindor table drew their attention to the Weasley twins, who appeared to be demonstrating some sort of charm that turned their freckles different colors.

"At least some people aren't letting a little thing like mortal peril dampen their spirits," Harry observed with a small grin.

"Speaking of which," Sebastian said, lowering his voice again, "History of Magic next, yes? Might be worth asking Binns about the Chamber."

"Binns?" Susan looked doubtful. "He wouldn't notice if whoever petrified the cat walked into his classroom."

"Unless it interrupted his goblin rebellion lecture," Harry added. "Then it might get a stern look."

The warning bell rang, signaling ten minutes until first class. Students began gathering their things, moving in tighter clusters than usual through the halls.

Itisa pressed against his leg, a reassuring warmth. Whatever was lurking in the walls of Hogwarts, Harry took comfort in knowing he had the world's most dangerous magical creature padding loyally at his side—even if she was currently disguised as an ordinary housecat.

If only the rest of his secrets were so easily concealed.

"Harry, come on!" Astoria called. "We'll be late!"

With one last glance at the staff table, where Dumbledore now sat alone, stroking his beard with a thoughtful expression, Harry hurried after his friends, Itisa padding silently at his heels.

Professor Binns drifted through the blackboard as he always did, seemingly unaware or unconcerned that his entrance through solid matter still caused a few second-years to gape. The ghostly professor adjusted his spectral glasses and began his lecture in the same monotonous drone that had lulled generations of Hogwarts students to sleep.

"Today we will continue our examination of the International Warlock Convention of 1289, focusing on paragraph seven of the troll hunting restrictions, which clearly established precedent for the later Magical Beast Classification System of 1811..."

Harry stifled a yawn, idly doodling rune configurations in the margin of his parchment. The History of Magic classroom seemed particularly stuffy today, despite the autumn chill outside. Around him, the usual signs of Binns-induced stupor were setting in: glazed eyes, drooping heads, and in the case of Gregory Goyle, actual drooling.

If I ever become a ghost, Harry thought, I hope someone will tell me if I'm boring people to death. There's a certain irony in a dead professor killing his subject.

Normally, Harry would use this time to mentally work through his talisman designs, but today his mind kept returning to the Chamber of Secrets and the voice he'd heard in the walls. The voice no one else seemed to have noticed—except Itisa.

His thoughts were interrupted by Anna Sallow's hand shooting into the air. This alone was unusual enough to draw attention; Anna rarely volunteered in class, preferring to blend into the background when possible.

Binns continued droning, either not seeing her hand or choosing to ignore it. After a full minute, Anna cleared her throat.

"Excuse me, Professor."

Binns paused mid-sentence, blinking owlishly as if surprised to find students in his classroom. "Yes, Miss...?"

"Sallow, sir. Anna Sallow."

"Yes, Miss Sally?"

"I was wondering if you could tell us about the Chamber of Secrets," Anna said, her voice soft but clear.

The effect on the classroom was immediate. Every drooping head snapped up. Even Crabbe, who had been quietly napping behind his textbook, jerked awake with comical suddenness.

Professor Binns frowned, his translucent features wrinkling with disapproval. "My subject is History of Magic, Miss Sally. I deal with facts, not myths and legends."

Professor Binns frowned, the expression barely visible on his translucent features. "My subject is History of Magic, Miss Shallow. I deal with facts, not myths and legends." He made a dismissive gesture with his ghostly hand. "Now, as I was saying, in 1289..."

"But, sir," Anna persisted, her voice taking on a subtle tone, "isn't all history originally told through oral tradition before being written down? Weren't the goblin rebellions once considered legends until historians like yourself preserved them as fact?"

Binns looked momentarily thrown by this appeal to his scholarly vanity. "Well, yes, I suppose that's true, but—"

"And as a historian who has literally transcended death," Anna continued earnestly, "you have a unique perspective that spans centuries of magical education. Surely you, of all people, can separate fact from fiction regarding Hogwarts' own history?"

Several students exchanged surprised glances. No one ever mentioned Binns' ghostly state to his face. Harry noticed a flicker of... something... cross the professor's translucent features. Not quite emotion—ghosts couldn't feel in the human sense—but perhaps a memory of feeling.

"Well..." Binns hesitated, clearly torn between his lesson plan and the unexpected opportunity to lecture on a topic that had captured his students' full attention. "I suppose a brief historical overview wouldn't be amiss."

Professor Binns sighed, a strange whistling sound like wind through an old keyhole. "Very well. Though I warn you, what you ask about is historical nonsense."

He settled his ghostly form before the class, abandoning his notes for perhaps the first time in centuries.

"As you know, Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. For several years, they worked in harmony, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated."

Harry found himself genuinely engaged, a rare occurrence in this classroom. Binns' voice had lost some of its monotony, taking on the quality of an old storyteller recounting tales by firelight.

"But disagreements arose among the founders. Salazar Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed magical learning should be restricted to all-magic families—what some would term 'pure-bloods'—rather than those born to Muggle parents, whom he considered untrustworthy."

"Just like some people today," Astoria muttered, loud enough for several to hear. Harry noticed Draco Malfoy scowling from across the room.

"After a while," Binns continued, seemingly unaware of the interruption, "there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."

"That much is reliably established by historical sources," Binns said, his academic tone returning. "But here the facts end and legend begins. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber within the castle, unknown to the other founders, which he sealed before departing. According to legend, Slytherin left the Chamber with the ability to be opened only by his true heir, who would then unleash the horror within to purge the school of those unworthy to study magic."

A heavy silence fell upon the classroom. Harry felt a chill run down his spine, thinking of the voice he'd heard in the walls. Something that could purge the school...

"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," Binns continued briskly. "The school has been searched countless times by the most learned witches and wizards. No such chamber has been found."

Hermione's hand shot into the air. "Sir, what exactly does the legend say is in the Chamber?"

"The Chamber is said to be home to something that only the Heir of Slytherin can control," Binns said with the air of someone humoring an overeager child. "Some sort of monster."

Harry's mind raced back to the hissing voice: "...rip... tear... KILL..."

"But that's absurd," Binns continued, warming to his topic. "For a monster to survive undetected for nearly a millennium would require magical intervention on a scale that would leave detectable traces. Furthermore, no documented creature matches the parameters described."

"What if it's a creature that can live an extremely long time?" Harry asked suddenly. "Or something that can remain dormant until needed?"

Binns blinked at him. "Mr. Porter—"

"Potter."

"—that is precisely the kind of unfounded speculation that separates historical inquiry from campfire tales." Binns drifted higher, his voice resuming its monotone. "Now, if we could return to the Warlock Convention's standardization of cauldron thickness..."

But the class remained unsettled. Harry caught whispered fragments around him:

"My grandmother always said the Chamber was real..."

"...what kind of monster would Slytherin consider worthy?"

"...bet it's that Malfoy prat, always going on about pure-blood nonsense..."

Harry's thoughts weren't on Malfoy but on the strange voice that only he had heard—a voice that seemed to come from within the very walls of Hogwarts. A voice that spoke of killing.

He glanced at Itisa, remembering her transformation when they'd heard it. The Nundu had sensed something that night, something that had triggered a defensive response unlike anything Harry had seen before.

If the monster in the Chamber is real, Harry thought, and if it's what I heard in the walls... then whatever it is, it's awake now. And it's hungry.

The bell rang, startling Harry from his thoughts. As students gathered their books, the room buzzed with theories and speculation, History of Magic forgotten in favor of much more immediate concerns.

"I bet the monster's something really gruesome," Anna said with the peculiar enthusiasm only a twelve-year-old could muster for potential horror. "Something with lots of teeth, or poisonous spines."

"Or perhaps," Sebastian replied quietly, "it's something so ordinary-looking that it could move among us undetected."

Harry felt a familiar prickle of awareness that came whenever he stumbled close to an important realization. A monster that can move through the castle unseen, that speaks of killing, that only the Heir of Slytherin can control...

The pieces were there, but he couldn't quite fit them together. Not yet.

As they filed out of the classroom, Hermione caught his eye. "You've thought of something," she said. It wasn't a question.

Harry hesitated.

"Let's talk at lunch," he said instead. "I think we need to put our heads together on this one."

Ahead of them, Professor Binns had already drifted back through the blackboard, likely forgetting the unusual interruption to his routine. Harry envied the ghost his detachment.

Later

"So, we have a monster at school," Nymphadora summarized after Harry told her everything during lunch.

Harry once again was sitting with the Hufflepuffs, and with him was Hermione, who was writing something in a piece of parchment. Sebastian and Anna were sitting with them, as was Susan Bones, who was sitting near Nymphadora, or Tonks as she preferred to be called.

"Pretty much, and we have no idea what it is, or who let this monster loose," Harry replied, absently stroking Itisa's head as she lounged beneath the table. The disguised Nundu seemed unusually alert today, her golden eyes constantly scanning the Great Hall.

Tonks' hair shifted from its usual bubblegum pink to a concerned deep blue. "And this Chamber of Secrets could be anywhere in the castle?"

"That's the problem," Sebastian said, picking at his shepherd's pie without much enthusiasm. "A secret chamber hidden by one of the most powerful wizards in history, designed specifically not to be found. We're not exactly dealing with a broom closet that someone misplaced."

Hermione looked up from her parchment, quill poised mid-word. "I've been making a list of possible creatures that could petrify victims. The problem is, there are simply too many options. From cockatrices to gorgons, medusas to—"

"We get it, Hermione," Harry interrupted gently. "The magical world isn't short on dangerous creatures." And I'm living with one of the most dangerous, he thought, glancing down at Itisa. Though she's never shown any petrifying abilities, thankfully, and she is the cutest.

"I sent an owl to Aunt Amelia last night," Susan said. "She replied this morning."

Everyone leaned in closer.

"What did she say?" Harry asked.

"She's sending seven Aurors to Hogwarts – they'll arrive tomorrow. She's coming herself to speak with Professor Dumbledore," Susan explained. "She's taking this very seriously. Said something about not repeating past mistakes."

"At least someone is," Sebastian muttered.

Anna shot her twin a warning look, but Sebastian continued undeterred.

"I'm just saying, it's remarkable how Dumbledore keeps his position despite the interesting array of deadly situations that keep arising under his watch." Sebastian's tone was casual, but Harry knew Sebastian wasn't happy about it. "Last year, one of our professors had a minor... inconvenience on the back of his head. This year, a monster is loose in the school. Next year, what? Dragons in the dungeons?"

"Sebastian!" Hermione hissed, glancing anxiously toward the staff table.

Harry couldn't help but smirk at Sebastian's dry assessment. While he respected Dumbledore, he'd often wondered about the Headmaster's approach to student safety. Leaving the Philosopher's Stone protected by puzzles that first-years could solve wasn't exactly airtight security.

"It's not funny," Anna reprimanded, though her lips twitched slightly. "Someone could get seriously hurt."

"That's precisely my point," Sebastian replied.

Astoria Greengrass appeared, sliding onto the bench next to Harry. "Did I miss anything important? Lockhart kept us late demonstrating how he once defeated a banshee with nothing but a teacup and a ball of yarn."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Sounds riveting."

"It was mostly him tossing the yarn around while making sound effects," Astoria confided. "But anyway, what's the plan for the Chamber?"

"Plan?" Hermione looked up. "We don't even know what we're dealing with yet or who is the Heir of Slytherin"

"But we will," Harry said with more confidence than he felt. "We've got Amelia Bones and Aurors coming tomorrow. That's a start."

"I still don't understand why someone would open the Chamber now," Tonks said, her hair shifting to a thoughtful purple. "What's the goal?"

"To 'purge those unworthy to study magic,'" quoted Sebastian. "That's what Binns said Slytherin wanted."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. Harry was acutely aware that Hermione, as a Muggle-born, would be a potential target if the Chamber's purpose was indeed to eliminate those without magical ancestry.

"Well, whoever opened it is going to face a squad of trained Aurors now," Susan said firmly. "My aunt doesn't mess around when it comes to threats against students."

"Let's hope these Aurors fare better than Lockhart would," Harry quipped. "I have a feeling his monster-fighting stories might be slightly exaggerated."

"Slightly?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I've been cross-referencing some of his claims, and the timeline doesn't add up. He claims to have been defeating the Wagga Wagga Werewolf on the same night he was supposedly banishing a banshee in Cork."

"The great Gilderoy Lockhart, exposed by timetabling conflicts," Sebastian said with a smirk. "How anticlimactic."

As they prepared to leave the Great Hall, a Hufflepuff third-year named Justin approached them, accompanied by a Gryffindor boy Harry recognized as Dean Thomas.

"Potter," Justin said. "You're in Slytherin. Is it true what people are saying? That Malfoy is the Heir of Slytherin?"

Harry nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. "Malfoy? Seriously?"

Sebastian raised an elegant eyebrow. "Draco Malfoy? The boy who announced his own Quidditch position to the entire school? The master of subtlety who walks around saying 'my father will hear about this' every time he stubs his toe?"

"Well, he does hate Muggle-borns," Dean pointed out. "Always going on about blood purity and calling people... you know." He glanced uncomfortably at Hermione.

"Malfoy is many things," Harry said, choosing his words carefully. "Arrogant, prejudiced, and insufferable, certainly. But he's not the Heir of Slytherin."

"How can you be so sure?" Justin pressed.

"For one thing," Sebastian interjected, "the Malfoy line isn't even directly descended from Slytherin. They're connected to the Blacks, and before that, the French magical nobility. No direct Slytherin lineage."

"Second," Harry added, "whoever is controlling this monster is powerful. Very powerful. Malfoy can barely manage a decent Tickling Charm."

"And third," Sebastian continued, "if there's one thing Slytherins understand about each other, it's that our ambitions reveal our true characters. Malfoy's ambition is to be exactly like his father—nothing more, nothing less. He lacks the vision or originality to orchestrate something like this."

Anna, who had been listening quietly, suddenly spoke up. "Besides, if Draco were the one who set the monster loose, we'd all hear him boasting about it from the Slytherin common room. He's not exactly known for his modesty or discretion."

This drew reluctant smiles from Justin and Dean.

"I suppose that makes sense," Dean admitted. "But if not Malfoy, then who?"

Harry shrugged. "That's what we need to find out. Before anyone else gets hurt."

Three Hours Later

"This is hopeless," Sebastian declared, slamming shut yet another massive tome. "There's nothing here about the Chamber that isn't pure speculation or magical fairy tales."

Madame Pince shot them a venomous glare from her desk, causing Sebastian to mutter a half-hearted apology before returning to his sullen state.

The four of them—Harry, Hermione, Sebastian, and Anna—had commandeered a table in the far corner of the library, surrounding themselves with stacks of books on Hogwarts history. Three hours of research had yielded nothing beyond what Professor Binns had already told them.

Harry rubbed his tired eyes beneath his glasses. "There has to be something. A secret chamber built by one of the founders of Hogwarts can't just vanish from all historical records."

"Actually, it can," Anna said softly, her delicate fingers tracing a paragraph in Hogwarts: A Complete Architectural History. "Listen to this: 'Following the departure of Salazar Slytherin, the remaining founders worked diligently to remove many of his more controversial influences from the school, including purging the library of certain texts he had contributed.'"

"They censored the library?" Hermione looked genuinely horrified, as if the idea of removing books was more disturbing than a monster roaming the corridors.

"It makes sense," Harry said, thinking aloud. "If Slytherin left instructions about the Chamber, the other founders wouldn't want that information circulating among students."

Sebastian leaned back in his chair. "So the relevant information is either lost to history or..."

"In the Restricted Section," Hermione finished, a determined gleam in her eye.

Harry glanced toward the rope barrier separating the main library from the shelves of dangerous magical texts. "We'd need a teacher's permission to access those books."

"Leave that to me," Hermione said, gathering her things with a look of dangerous glee in her eyes. "I'll be back in twenty minutes. Maybe thirty."

As she hurried off, Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Ten Galleons says she's going to bat her eyelashes at Lockhart."

Harry smirked. "No bet. That's exactly what she's doing."

Anna gave him a reproachful look. "She's helping all of us. And using Lockhart's vanity against him is rather Slytherin of her, wouldn't you say?"

"Fair point," Harry conceded. Perhaps there's a little of each house in all of us, he thought. Hermione's cleverness, Daphne's sudden helpfulness, Luna's unexpected insights...

His musings were interrupted by Itisa brushing against his legs under the table. The disguised Nundu seemed restless today, occasionally making the small chirping sound that Harry had learned indicated mild distress.

"Is your cat alright?" Anna asked, noticing Harry's concerned expression. "She seems agitated."

Harry reached down to stroke Itisa's fur. "She's been like this since last night," he said carefully. Since she transformed and we heard that voice in the walls, he added silently.

"Animals can sense danger," Sebastian observed. "Maybe she knows more about this Chamber business than we do."

True to her word, Hermione returned twenty-five minutes later, breathless but triumphant, clutching a signed permission slip.

"I told him I was utterly fascinated by his encounter with the Bandon Banshee and wanted to understand the theoretical framework behind his banishing spell," she explained, looking vaguely disgusted with herself. "He didn't even read what he was signing."

Sebastian snorted. "The man would probably autograph his own execution order if you told him it was for his fan club."

With Hermione's ill-gotten pass, they crossed into the Restricted Section.

"Where do we start?" Anna whispered.

"Slytherin biographies," Harry suggested. "Founder histories. Anything about the early days of Hogwarts."

They split up, each taking a different section. For the next hour, they pored through texts that ranged from the merely obscure to the distinctly unsettling. Sebastian found a biography of Slytherin written in Parseltongue. Anna discovered a history of Hogwarts' architectural enchantments that mentioned secret passages but nothing about a chamber.

Harry was leafing through Persecuted Founders: The True History of Magical Education when he came across a brief, tantalizing reference:

"...following his departure, rumors persisted that Slytherin had left more than his teachings behind. Some claimed he created a hidden sanctum within the castle walls, accessible only to those who shared his unique gifts..."

"Unique gifts?" Harry muttered to himself. "What does that mean?"

"Probably his ability to talk to snakes," Sebastian said, reading over Harry's shoulder. "Slytherin was a famous Parselmouth—it's one of the defining traits of his bloodline."

Harry felt a chill run down his spine. The voice in the walls... what if...

"Harry, are you alright?" Anna asked. "You've gone rather pale."

Before he could respond, Hermione slammed her book shut with uncharacteristic frustration. "Nothing! Not a single concrete detail about the Chamber's location or what monster might be inside."

"Maybe we're approaching this wrong," Harry said slowly, his mind racing. "What if the Chamber isn't mentioned in these books because it's not meant to be found through research? What if it's something you have to... hear or sense?"

Sebastian gave him an odd look. "What are you saying?"

Harry hesitated, watching Itisa's intense focus on the wall, but why wouldn't he tell them? Hermione has known that Itisa is a Nundu for many months now, and has never said anything to anyone. Sebastian and Anna knew Itisa was not a normal cat, and by all rules, his cat needed to be kicked out of the school, but they never said anything. Harry was sure he could trust them with this. Making a decision, he lowered his voice.

"There's something I haven't told you. Last night, before we found Mrs. Norris... I heard a voice."

Three pairs of eyes fixed on him.

"A voice?" Hermione whispered. "What kind of voice?"

"It was coming from inside the walls," Harry continued. "It was saying things like 'kill' and 'so hungry' and 'time to kill.' And no one else seemed to hear it."

"Inside the walls?" Sebastian's eyebrows shot up. "You're sure?"

Harry nodded. "And Itisa reacted to it too. She... changed. Became agitated in a way I've never seen before."

Anna glanced at the disguised Nundu, who continued to stare at the wall. "And you think this voice is connected to the Chamber?"

"It has to be," Harry said. "What else would be moving through the walls talking about killing? And after what you just said about Slytherin being a Parselmouth..." He took a deep breath. "I think the monster might be some kind of snake."

"A snake that can petrify?" Hermione looked skeptical.

"I'm not sure what kind exactly, but it makes sense. Slytherin's symbol is a serpent. He was a Parselmouth." Harry hesitated, then added, "And so am I."

The silence that followed was deafening.

"You can talk to snakes?" Sebastian finally asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Harry nodded. "I've known since I was young, before Hogwarts even. I just never thought it was that important to mention. It's not like I have daily conversations with garden snakes."

"Harry, that's an extremely rare gift," Hermione said slowly. "It's traditionally associated with..."

"Dark wizards," Harry finished. "I know. That's partly why I kept it quiet. But if the monster is a snake, and if I can understand what it's saying when no one else can..."

"Then you might be our best chance at finding the Chamber," Anna concluded.

Sebastian leaned back, studying Harry with newfound interest. "Well, well. The Boy Who Lived, a Parselmouth. The papers would have a field day with that."

"Which is why this stays between us," Harry said firmly. "I'm telling you because I trust you, and because we need all the information we can get."

His three friends exchanged glances, then nodded in agreement.

"So what's our next move?" Hermione asked. "Try to follow the voice if you hear it again?"

Harry glanced at Itisa, who had finally stopped staring at the wall and was now watching him intently. "Not alone. That would be too dangerous. But maybe with the Aurors arriving tomorrow..."

"We tell them what we know," Sebastian suggested. "Not necessarily about your... linguistic talents, but about the possible snake connection."

As they gathered their things to leave, Harry felt lighter for having shared his secret, yet more worried than ever about what lay ahead.

As they left the library, Anna fell into step beside Harry. "If it is a snake, do you have any idea what kind it might be? You probably know more about magical creatures than any of us, especially after spending that month with Newt Scamander in France."

The mention of his summer adventures brought an unexpected pang of nostalgia. Images of the underwater kingdom of Abyssantica flashed through Harry's mind—the luminescent coral archways, the graceful movement of the aquatic beings, and Princess Crystal-Harmony with her human upper body and seahorse-like lower half.

I haven't thought about Crystal-Harmony in weeks, Harry realized with a twinge of guilt. She had made sure he felt welcomed, trusted him with her kingdom's secrets, and even gifted him the Aqualis crystal that now helped stabilize Anna's condition. And in return, he'd been so caught up in his talisman projects and school chaos that he'd barely spared her a thought.

"Harry?" Anna prompted gently, noticing his distraction.

"Sorry," he said, refocusing. "I was just... remembering something." He shook his head slightly. "About the monster—all I know for certain is that it must be some sort of snake or serpent-like creature, but I haven't heard of any that can petrify its victims."

"Nothing in Scamander's notes or teachings?" Sebastian asked.

Harry furrowed his brow, mentally cataloging the various serpentine creatures he'd learned about.

"There's the Quetzalcoatl," he offered, "a feathered serpent from South America that can control weather patterns and cause localized earthquakes. But they're not hostile to humans unless provoked."

"What about the Naga?" Hermione suggested. "They're part human, part cobra."

Harry shook his head. "Nagas are intelligent beings, not monsters. They wouldn't allow themselves to be locked in a chamber for centuries."

"What else?" Sebastian pressed.

"There's the Ouroboros," Harry continued, "a rare magical serpent that can regenerate by consuming itself. They're practically immortal but extremely rare. Newt only saw one once, in Egypt."

"Any petrification abilities?" Anna asked.

"No, their main power is regeneration. They're nearly impossible to kill."

Harry counted off on his fingers as he continued. "The Arctic Frost Viper can freeze its prey with its breath, but that's actual ice, not petrification. The Spectral Mamba can turn partially invisible but leaves a shadow behind. The Rune Serpent of Tibet can absorb and redirect magical energy through markings on its scales."

"None of these sound like our culprit," Hermione observed, frustration evident in her voice.

"What about a Basilisk?" Anna suggested quietly. "They're associated with Slytherin in some of the older texts."

Harry shook his head decisively. "A Basilisk kills with its gaze, not petrifies. Mrs. Norris would be dead, not frozen."

"Are you absolutely certain?" Sebastian asked. "Could there be variations?"

"Newt was very specific about Basilisks. Their eyes are instant death. No exceptions." Harry ran a hand through his hair, thinking hard. "It has to be something else, something we're missing."

They reached the point where they would need to separate—Hermione toward Gryffindor Tower, the others toward the dungeons.

"Let's sleep on it," Hermione suggested. "Maybe with the Aurors arriving tomorrow, we'll have fresh perspectives."

As they parted ways, Harry found his thoughts returning briefly to Crystal-Harmony and the underwater kingdom. The magical world was far vaster and more complex than most wizards realized, with creatures and beings that defied simple classification.

And somewhere in this castle, he thought grimly, is one such creature that doesn't appear in any of our books.

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