Colin's camera incident totally blew up at Hogwarts, and everyone's gossip engines were running on overdrive.
Even though Dumbledore tried to keep a lid on it, the rumor about "a first-year nearly getting petrified" spread like wildfire. Plus, with Rove's super-bright Lumos spell in the hallway, everyone knew something big went down that night. For the next few days, the whole school was buzzing about that mysterious "Slytherin heir."
For Rove, it meant the war horns were blaring.
He started showing up to classes fully geared up. Under his robes, he always had his frying pan stashed, and his belt was loaded with pouches full of who-knows-what powders.
"Rove, could you maybe not sneak around the hallways like some kind of ninja?" Hermione whispered in exasperation. She was hugging a stack of books, trying to keep up with Rove's erratic pace.
"Stay sharp, Elven Princess."
"I can sense the hostility level here's through the roof."
"That's just Filch glaring at you," Ron muttered.
"Let him stare," Rove waved it off casually. "We've got bigger fish to fry. Professor Binns—he's one of the oldest beings in this castle. He must know secrets from the First Age."
"You mean... you're crashing History of Magic?" Ron's eyes went wide. "But Rove, that's our Gryffindor class—you're a Hufflepuff..."
"For intel, house lines get blurry." Rove straightened his collar with zero shame and marched straight toward the History of Magic classroom. "Besides, who's gonna notice one extra student?"
Professor Binns' class was the school's unofficial "nap time." The ghost professor droned on about goblin rebellion dates in his monotone voice, better than any sleeping potion.
But today was different.
When Professor Binns floated through the blackboard into the room, he was shocked to find every student sitting bolt upright, eyes glued to him.
"Er... good morning," Professor Binns blinked his dead-fish eyes. "Today we'll cover... the International Confederation of Wizards' convention in 1289..."
"Professor!" Hermione's hand shot up like a rocket.
Professor Binns stared at her in surprise. "You're...?"
"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us about the Chamber of Secrets?" Hermione asked clearly and directly.
The classroom went dead silent.
[Plot Mission Triggered: Ancient Legend]
[Mission Objective: Extract 'Boss' Intel from NPC]
Professor Binns was clearly caught off guard by the question. He tried to brush it off, but under the whole class's stare-down, he finally caved.
"Very well," Professor Binns drawled. "Since you're all so keen... the legend of the Chamber."
He started recounting the history of Hogwarts' four founders, Slytherin's fallout with the others, and the hidden room he left behind before bailing.
"...Slytherin sealed the Chamber until his true heir arrived at the school. Only the heir could open the Chamber, unleash the horror within, and purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."
"Unworthy to study magic?" Hermione's voice shook a bit. "You mean..."
"Those without Numenorean blood," Rove cut in suddenly. "In those dark wizards' terms, 'lesser folk,' or that damn slur."
Professor Binns frowned (if ghosts could frown). "This is just a legend, Baggins. Though I don't condone such divisions. And how are you in Gryffindor? I remember you as..."
"What's inside it?" Ron jumped in just in time, asking the question on everyone's mind. "What's the horror?"
"Legend says it's a monster Slytherin left behind," Professor Binns said. "Supposedly, only Slytherin's heir can control it."
The whole class sucked in a breath.
Rove's system interface popped up a red warning box.
[Intel Update: Chamber of Secrets]
[Type: Underground Dungeon / Hidden Instance]
[Boss Speculation: Balrog of Moria / Smaug / Offspring of Ungoliant]
[Danger Level: Skull (Instant Death)]
"The dwarves delved too deep, and too greedily."
"They awoke in the darkness of the mountains that ancient fear. Shadow and flame."
Professor Binns looked at him in confusion. "I don't think this has anything to do with dwarves, Mr. Baggins. This is a wizard's legend."
"It's the same story in a different telling, Keeper of Secrets," Rove said seriously, staring at Professor Binns. "Slytherin didn't leave over blood purity—he got booted for trying to breed a Balrog under the school! It was a bioweapon prepped for war!"
The classroom erupted in whispers. Everyone thought Rove was nuts, but "Balrog" sounded way more specific, scarier, and cooler than just "monster"!
After class, the trio huddled in a corner of the hallway.
"Rove, do you really think it's... a Balrog?" Hermione asked, though she didn't buy it fully—she was spooked. "Books say those are ancient demons."
"Or some kind of massive dragon," Rove said, marking possible entrances on his "battle map." "If it's a Balrog, we'll need fire-resistant potions—a ton. If it's a dragon, black arrows. If it's some giant spider... we'll need light."
"Why spiders?" Ron asked in horror. "Don't scare me, Rove."
Rove didn't answer, but he suddenly stopped and pointed out the window.
"Look."
On the wall outside the window, a long black line was moving. Spiders again, heading toward the Forbidden Forest.
"They're fleeing."
"Just like the spiders in Mirkwood running from the Necromancer's shadow. Ron, the things you fear most are bolting—this means that 'thing' is a million times scarier than spiders."
Ron's face went sheet-white. "A million times... scarier than spiders?"
"Nature's early warning system never fails," Rove turned to them. "Listen up, we're hitting the library. Since the heir's let the beast loose, we've gotta find its weakness. Before it turns us to stone or crisps us to ash."
"What are we looking for?" Harry asked.
"The school's history."
"Who could control a monster. And... where to get enough mirrors and roosters."
"Roosters?" Hermione looked totally baffled. "What kind of Middle-earth folk remedy is this?"
"It's common sense, Hermione," Rove said deadpan, spinning total nonsense. "In ancient legends, certain dark creatures fear the heralds of dawn. If my hunch is right, we might need a rooster with a serious set of lungs. Or some alchemical gadget that mimics a rooster crow."