Another two weeks passed.
The professors gradually reduced their patrol frequency. Rumors about the Chamber of Secrets finally died down.
Professor Binns, who taught History of Magic, refused to waste any time on the topic.
When students pressed him for answers, the usually quiet, indifferent ghost professor showed anger for the first time. The curious little lions had to suppress their restless curiosity.
But Hermione wasn't giving up.
She wasn't trying to investigate the strange voice Harry heard. She was interested in Hogwarts' secrets. If Slytherin left behind a chamber, did the other founders leave similar rooms?
After warning the two idiots not to go looking for trouble, her bushy head spent entire days in the library. Madam Pince was thoroughly annoyed by her constant questions.
"Hermione, searching like this won't work."
Finally, on Friday, Harry and Ron cornered Hermione outside the library.
Despite the warning, Harry cared deeply about the voice he'd heard.
Seeing Hermione frown, Harry quickly added, "I mean, looking for clues in the library is like finding a needle in a haystack. Why don't you ask the Slytherins? They'd know more."
"Right. Pure-blood families always have secrets others can't access," Ron nodded.
"But Tiger warned me." Hermione hesitated. "Until this gets sorted out, he won't let me get involved. This isn't something we should mess with. You two better not try anything either, or else..."
She trailed off.
Hermione seemed to see through their little scheme. Her clear, sharp eyes flashed with warning.
"No, no, no..." Harry tried to explain.
But seeing Hermione's knowing expression, he sighed helplessly.
"Listen, Hermione. I'm just curious about that voice. The one you can't hear. I promise I won't get close to danger easily. But the danger is right beside me. I need to figure it out to stay away from it."
Hermione thought for a moment, then nodded slightly. "You have a point. Know where the danger is to avoid it. I'll go find Tiger right now—"
"Wait, wait, wait!"
Seeing Hermione about to leave, Harry grabbed her arm. Ron whispered urgently, "It's no use. Pure-blood secrets are like family assets. They won't share them unless there's something to trade..."
Hermione knew the Weasley family was poor but still pure-blood. Malfoy had called Ron many names but never denied that fact.
So she didn't doubt Ron's words.
"What are you suggesting?" Hermione crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at them.
These two clearly had a plan. They'd come to her because they'd hit a problem they couldn't solve alone. They needed their unofficial leader's help.
Harry looked around cautiously, then moved close to Hermione's ear. "We're planning to get information out of Malfoy. The Malfoys have been Slytherins for generations. Nobody knows more about this than him. But..."
"Polyjuice Potion?!" Hermione's eyes widened.
Potions are precise. Any mistake will cause irreversible consequences for the user.
That was something Snape often said.
Polyjuice Potion wasn't in their textbooks. She'd never encountered this type of potion before.
She was about to object when she spotted Gemma Farley and Reilly Shafiq at the end of the corridor.
The elegant, noble prefect was walking toward the library, drawing other students' attention.
Something flashed in Hermione's mind. Her face filled with anger. She gritted her teeth. "Fine. I'll handle this!"
The weather was stifling hot. The entire castle seemed wrapped in thick, oppressive heat. Everyone cursed the unpredictable temperature.
But that couldn't stop the young wizards' love for Quidditch. Banners and flags filled the stands. Cheers rolled like distant thunder.
In midair, facing the serious-looking Harry, Draco's lips curved into a vicious smile. He raised his Beater's bat, slowly drawing it across his throat.
Harry suddenly felt nervous.
Malfoy didn't look like a Beater at all. More like a murderer.
The guy wasn't even watching the Bludger. He was staring straight at Harry's head.
Wait. During Slytherin's last Quidditch practice, wasn't Malfoy in the Seeker position?
Had Wood's intelligence been wrong?
As Madam Hooch walked to the center of the pitch, Harry quietly checked the Shield Charm on his body...
"Tweet!!!"
The whistle blew. Cheers exploded from the stands. Watching the figures streak through the air, Gryffindor faces turned red from shouting.
The Slytherins sat quietly in their section, waiting for the stupid lions to fall from the sky.
First-year snakes gripped their flags tightly, eyes bright with excitement.
But seeing their older housemates looking calm and composed, they had to contain their emotions, quietly cheering for their Quidditch team.
Tiger leaned back in his seat, legs propped on the railing, lazily scratching the big cat's ears.
That was the big cat's most ticklish spot.
The slightest pressure made its fluffy tail whip like a lash against his hand.
As for Gunpowder, she'd been throwing tantrums lately and had run off to Hermione.
Reilly Shafiq stared at Tiger with dark eyes, as if afraid his hands might wander somewhere inappropriate.
Ever since learning the black panther was her pet, Tiger had shamelessly claimed it.
Especially during breaks, he acted like he couldn't live without the creature.
Why don't you just die already! Reilly cursed silently.
But seeing her friend's comfortable, relaxed expression, she could only turn away in anger and frustration.
"Harry! Look out!"
Fred's voice rang out suddenly.
Sensing danger from behind, Harry flipped upside down on his broom. A whooshing sound rushed past.
Watching the Bludger skim past his broomstick, Harry flipped back upright, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
Before he could turn to thank Fred, Adrian swung his bat hard. The nearby Bludger smashed straight into Fred's face.
A dull thud.
Fred spun off his broom and fell. The Gryffindor stands erupted in screams.
"Nice one, Adrian!"
"Break that bastard's neck!"
"Damn it! Can't you use that bat for more than hitting balls!"
"Kill him!"
"Break his bloody legs!"
Roars exploded from the Slytherin stands. The previously quiet Slytherins jumped to their feet, faces red with fury, shouting themselves hoarse.
Watching their usually elegant upperclassmen with bulging veins and murderous looks, spewing the most savage curses, the first-year snakes froze in shock.
"Sister..." Astoria Greengrass covered her mouth in horror, staring wide-eyed.
Her usually gentle, refined sister Daphne was standing on the railing like a madwoman, screaming obscenities.
"Draco! Are you bloody blind!"
"Potter's head is huge, you bastard!"
"If you can't hit the ball, use the bat on him!"
"Idiot!!!"
(O_O)(O_O)(O_O)
"It's nothing serious." Millicent Bulstrode shrugged, gesturing for Astoria to look at her brother.
The formerly chubby girl had developed some proper Bulstrode family bearing after more than a year of training, though she wasn't much prettier.
The male prefect, usually the picture of aristocratic composure, now looked like a telegraph machine.
Using current players as his center and all of Gryffindor's past Quidditch players as his radius, he spewed venom with terrifying efficiency.
"Merlin's coffin..."
"What's happening..." Astoria muttered to herself.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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