"Ugh, this book is useless!" cried Oleandra, snapping her copy of Hogwarts: A History shut and throwing it at the foot of her bed. "Where's all the important stuff? The Chamber of Secrets barely gets a footnote! And the author can't even count the secret passages out of the castle properly— even considering the ones that caved in after this rag was published, there's still one too many!"
"Well, what did you expect?" said Daphne calmly. She was at her desk, finishing up her sister's Transfiguration essay. "The Chamber was thought to be nothing more than a legend until we discovered it five years ago. By then, Bathilda Bagshot was well over a hundred— you can't honestly expect her to go sliding down the pipes to write a revised edition. Besides, there could still be a tunnel hidden somewhere you've yet to find."
What Oleandra sought was Hogwarts's magical nexus, the castle's wellspring of power. Ordinarily, enchantments would begin to fade the moment one looked away from them, but Hogwarts had been raised on a telluric knot, a place of power where two Ley Lines overlapped. That was why its magic had endured for over a thousand years: it was constantly renewed by the energy drawn from the land itself.
"What are you searching for, anyway?" Daphne then asked. "If it's something that can be found at Hogwarts, I could always ask Professor Snape; as the Headmaster, he's bound to know…"
"No!" Oleandra said sharply. "The fewer people who know about this, the better!"
When Oleandra first realised she could no longer use Tree‑Portation to slip in and out of Hogwarts at will, she'd assumed Dumbledore had warded the castle's perimeter with runes designed to block rune‑based space‑time magic. That, however, would have been a monumental undertaking for only two people— the Headmaster himself and Professor Babbling— even with the whole summer of '93 at their disposal.
Clearly, that wasn't what he'd done, for Oleandra could still Tree‑Port in and out of the Chamber of Secrets, which lay within the bounds of the school itself. Rather, this new restriction appeared to be an extension of the Anti-Disapparition Jinx that permeated the grounds— much like the Anti-Flight Jinx, which could be activated in times of crisis. To sustain a spell of that magnitude, and over so wide an area, Oleandra supposed that Dumbledore must have cast his incantation at the castle's nexus… somewhere near the centre and underground, indubitably.
"The Restricted Section of the Library…" Oleandra muttered to herself. "There might be a clue in one of the books…"
"If it's secrets about the castle you're after, why not try Salazar Slytherin's Scriptorium?" suggested Daphne. "There are loads of books in there."
Although they'd found no clues to the Chamber of Secrets within its walls, they had discovered the recipe for the Bloodline Atavism Potion— the one that had purified Daphne's and Astoria's magical‑creature blood and healed Astoria's malady.
"It's no good," sighed Oleandra. "The entrance's sealed up tight again, and I can't Tree‑Port in there any more. Besides, even if I could, I'm fairly certain the sapling I left inside must've withered away years ago without sunlight."
A few years earlier, she'd tried blasting the door open again, but it was no use; the entrance had simply grown back, tougher than ever. It was too resilient to pry open, and since she had no more business in there, she'd simply given up.
"If I remember Pansy's words correctly…" Daphne said thoughtfully. "Hmm…"
Oleandra glanced at her sister, who had sunk deep into thought. "Daphne?"
"All right, then," Daphne said, pushing herself away from her desk and standing up. "Come on, it'll be just like old times."
Oleandra checked her timepiece. It was hours past curfew, but with the Head Girl, who also happened to be the Dark Lady, at her side, she doubted any prefect they met would dare give her detention.
"You're not bringing Noodle with you?" Oleandra asked quizzically, glancing at the slumbering baby grass snake coiled around Daphne's bedpost. "We're going to need a snake to open the door."
"His name's Wyrm," Daphne corrected her. "And no, he won't be necessary. Let him have his beauty sleep— he needs to grow big and strong."
Oleandra shot her sister a strange look. Just because she often spoke to her beloved pet snake, that did not mean she could speak Parseltongue.
"What are you looking at me like that for?" Daphne said irritably. "Come on, let's get this over with."
…
After wandering the dungeons for a few minutes, Oleandra finally remembered where the Scriptorium's hidden entrance lay. With a few well‑aimed Flame‑Making Charms, Oleandra and Daphne lit the braziers atop the three seemingly arbitrary pillars, and the secret passage revealed itself.
"Well, I'll let you do the honours," Oleandra said, stepping aside.
Daphne marched up to the cold metal door. There was no handle, no knob— nothing that could remotely be considered a lock. The door itself was a detailed relief of a nest of snakes, their bodies coiling and intertwining so tightly that it was hard to tell where one ended and another began.
"Open," said Daphne, enunciating each syllable.
A strange feeling washed over Daphne, as though she were being watched. It was as if another pair of eyes had opened behind her own, seeing everything she saw, staring through her as if she were an open book… She shook her head. She needed to focus— she could tell Oleandra was seconds away from saying something rude.
"That was English," quipped Oleandra. "Are you even trying? Parseltongue's more of a hissing sort of noise…"
Oleandra's voice trailed off as the ancient door swung open with a metallic groan. "I thought you needed to be a Parselmouth to open the Scriptorium," she said in disbelief. "Was Salazar Slytherin an idiot? Anyone curious enough to care could have opened that door…"
Daphne shot her sister a strange look. "Oleandra, that was Parseltongue."
"You're taking the piss," said Oleandra, annoyed. "I've heard Harry speak Parseltongue before, and it sounds nothing even remotely close to that."
The snake-riddled door swung shut with a bang, making both sisters jump.
"I hope that wasn't a fluke earlier," Oleandra grumbled. "Maybe the door only stays open for a few secon—"
Once again, the door swung open, and for a moment, the twins could only stare at each other in confusion as they tried to make sense of it all.
"Oleandra… since when are you a Parselmouth?" Daphne asked slowly. Then, as horror slowly dawned on her, she added, "Wait, does that mean you understand everything I tell Wyrm before I go to bed!?"
Oleandra pulled a face.
"I'm not a Parselmouth, but yes," she said irritably. "You like to complain about me— a lot— and you're awfully pleased I broke up with Tracey. I never said anything, because I know you've had a rough time of it all and that you needed to let off steam…"
Daphne buried her face in her hands and groaned audibly.
"Hang on— you didn't mean for me to hear all that?" said Oleandra, raising an eyebrow. "The way you kept going on about me to my face when you talked to that snake of yours— well, I thought you'd gone completely loopy, honestly…"