"Thank you, Draco," Harry said to the boy in the hospital bed. Seeing the faint, pale smile on Draco's face, he eagerly asked, "Did you hear what Professor Dumbledore said just now? He said the Chamber of Secrets really is open. And what do you think of his line, 'The question is not who, the question is how'?"
Draco, of course, heard Dumbledore's words. After a long silence, he slowly said, "Harry, I think I have a clue about 'who it is'."
"Really?" Harry grabbed Draco's hand excitedly, then let go because of his cry of pain. "Oh! Sorry, I forgot."
"Can I assume that you also heard the same sound when Mrs Norris had her accident? The kind that others could not hear?" Draco asked, his face contorted, enduring the excruciating pain of his bones resetting.
"Yes…" Harry hesitated for a moment before finally confessing, "That day, we went to the Deathday Party, and later we got hungry and wanted to go upstairs to eat something for the living. That is when I heard strange noises, so I followed them and found Mrs Norris's Petrified body on the third floor. Hermione told me not to tell anyone, and Ron also said that hearing strange noises that others cannot hear is not a good sign."
Draco had known all along that Harry was a Parselmouth. He just did not know how to connect the dots.
Now, combined with the details of Harry's confession to him, everything had come together.
The sound Harry heard was most likely the sound of the Basilisk.
Whenever the Basilisk appeared, Harry would be drawn to the inaudible sounds and run to the victim.
He was like a hummingbird drawn to the scent of flowers, or a Niffler drawn to the sight of gold coins. Like a murderer frequently appearing at a crime scene, these bizarre coincidences, in the eyes of the unsuspecting crowd, led to an inevitable conclusion—he was definitely not innocent, and he must be involved in this matter.
In past lives, rumours had become increasingly bizarre and exaggerated as they were spread.
In the end, Harry was recognised as the heir to the Chamber of Secrets in Slytherin.
"They are right, you really should not have told everyone this. People will be horrified, even afraid of you." Suddenly, Draco understood Hermione's hesitation in not telling him the details.
He understood why she had kept something from him.
She was a girl who was loyal to her friends. Just as she was willing to keep Draco's secret from a third person, she would be just as willing to keep Harry's secret from a third person.
It was not that she did not trust him; she was simply loyal to her friend. He had known this about her for a long time, so why should he hold a grudge? Draco's lips twitched slightly.
Imagining the little girl shattering the Bludger makes me feel a little better.
He had no intention of wasting time, so he went straight to the point and asked Harry, "Tell me, Harry, have you ever spoken to a snake?"
"I only said it once. It was at a Muggle zoo, and I accidentally let a boa constrictor out—it is a long story—at the time, I did not know I was a wizard," Harry said.
"I think I am right. Harry, you are a Parselmouth," Draco said without any preamble.
His words became more direct because of the pain.
"Parselmouth?" Harry asked. "What does that mean?"
"In short, you can talk to snakes. That is Salazar Slytherin's signature skill. The symbol of Slytherin House is a snake," Draco said, giving a bitter laugh.
Harry stood there speechless, stunned.
After a while, he asked in a hoarse voice, "Why me? Am I some distant relative of Slytherin?"
"I do not know," Draco said wearily, trying not to think about the thirty-odd bones that were growing violently inside him. "It is not impossible. I have never heard of Parseltongue in the Potter family until you came along. Perhaps you can check the genealogy someday and see if there are any Slytherin descendants who intermarried with your ancestors. Anyway, you are definitely not schizophrenic or have something wrong with your brain."
"That is a relief," Harry said with a hint of sarcasm. Draco could tell he was not relieved at all.
"So, I am a Parselmouth. What does that mean? I should be in Slytherin, not Gryffindor?" Harry's tone was a little agitated.
"Do not worry about all that! The Sorting Hat has made its decision, and you are a Gryffindor," Draco said gruffly. "That is not the point of this conversation. The point is, those strange, inaudible sounds you are hearing might just be because you are a Parselmouth."
You could not blame Draco for being impatient. It hurt too much. Every vibration from his voice made him hear the cracking sound of his bones growing inside him.
Harry's voice softened. He finally began to consider the issue, following Draco's lead. "You mean, the sound I heard was the voice of a snake? Mrs Norris and Colin Creevey were Petrified by snakes? Is that even possible? I mean, should snakes not use their fangs to bite?"
Even though all Draco could see was the dark ceiling of the ward, he could roughly imagine Harry's bewildered expression.
"Harry, imagine, would Salazar Slytherin use an ordinary snake to guard such an important Chamber of Secrets? It must be an extraordinary snake, a snake that can live for thousands of years. I mean, a Basilisk," Draco said groggily.
The hypnotic ingredients in Madam Pomfrey's potion gradually began to take effect, and his eyelids grew heavy.
"A Basilisk?" Harry asked. "Are you sure?"
"Of course, this is just my guess." Draco yawned with difficulty to avoid aggravating his sensitive new bones from the violent jolt. "Do some research, Harry. The wizarding world is far more vast and complex than you imagine. At least ask Hermione; she did not just read all those books in the library for nothing."
"All right," Harry said reluctantly. "So, what does Professor Dumbledore mean by 'how'? Do you have any guesses?"
"I would like to work that out too," Draco said softly. "But Harry, is curfew not coming soon?"
"Curfew has passed," Harry glanced at the wall clock, jumped up, grabbed his Invisibility Cloak, and put it on. "I have to go! They are both waiting for me in the common room."
"Go, go, get away from the third floor, do not let Mr Filch catch you..." Draco mumbled incoherently, once again drifting into a tiring and painful dream.
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Early Sunday morning, Draco was blinded by the winter sun.
After a whole night of rapid growth, all his bones had been repaired and no longer caused him unbearable pain. But when he propped himself up on his arms to get up and move around, he still felt very stiff.
The ward was quiet and peaceful, with only rows of empty, white beds and sunlight streaming into the room.
And Madam Pomfrey.
She was drawing the curtains to Colin Creevey's bed. Seeing Draco awake, she came over with a breakfast tray and began checking his bones.
"You are recovering well," Madam Pomfrey said with satisfaction. "After you finish breakfast and change into your own clothes, you can go." With that, she walked briskly out of the ward and considerately closed the door for Draco.
Draco had no appetite. He ate a few mouthfuls of porridge, then quickly put down his spoon, hurriedly changed into his own clothes from his hospital gown, and was wondering whether he should pull back the curtain of the bed next to his to see that unfortunate Colin Creevey.
At this moment, the ward was quiet, and apart from Draco, there was no one else breathing.
However, the next second, a loud explosion shattered the atmosphere.
"I am sorry, Young Master!" Dobby knelt on the ground with tears in his eyes, banging his head violently against the ground.
"Stop! What is wrong?" Draco asked, puzzled.
He noticed that Dobby's fingers were covered in bandages—it seemed he had burned himself.
"Dobby's Bludger hurt its Young Master! Dobby did not mean it!" It swayed its body back and forth, its ugly big head bobbing back and forth.
"What do you mean? What do you mean by 'your rogue Bludger'? Did you do it? Did you almost kill me?" Draco suddenly felt a surge of anger. This unexpected information shocked and enraged him. "Why? Who gave you the order?"
"I am not trying to kill you, absolutely not, Young Master!" Dobby's big eyes were filled with terror. "Dobby just wants Harry Potter to go home! Going home even though he is badly injured is better than staying here! History is repeating itself, the Chamber of Secrets has been opened, Harry Potter is in danger! Dobby just wants to help!"
"What do you mean by history repeating itself? What else do you know?" Draco asked in surprise.
"When Dobby was cleaning the fireplace in the study, he overheard the master saying that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened again, and that there was something about Harry Potter, the Weasleys, and that they were doomed! Dobby was terrified!" Dobby said, his ears drooping and his voice trembling.
Recently, Draco had not had any tasks for Dobby, so he told him to go back to Malfoy Manor and work with the other house-elves. Little did he know that Dobby would outsmart him.
Merlin! You should never underestimate Dobby's obsession with Harry Potter.
"Dobby! Harry is my friend, I will protect him. He is not stupid, he can protect himself!" Draco could no longer maintain his composure. He said angrily, "You did a terrible job, Dobby! Deduct the pay!"
"My Young Master is willing to risk his life for Harry Potter! He does not care if his salary is docked!" Dobby sobbed, a mixture of sadness and joy. "But Dobby still hopes Harry Potter can come home, and it would be best if my Young Master came home too! Everyone should come home!"
"This is not something you can decide. You are being completely presumptuous! Stop trying to hurt Harry and send him home! That is my order! Never again use the Bludger to hurt anyone! In fact, without my summons, you are not allowed to come to Hogwarts or get near Harry Potter!" Draco scratched his head in frustration, not even bothering to give Dobby a second glance.
He did not even want to see that annoying thing again!
Dobby sobbed on the spot and disappeared sadly.
Just then, a noise came from the ward door, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps.
Draco cursed under his breath, rushed over and opened the door, only to see a wisp of brown hair disappear around the corner at the end of the corridor.
The length and curve of her hair made it impossible for him to ignore—it was Hermione.
She heard everything.