What Is Our Senior Tom Up To?

Dumbledore's tone was incredibly sincere.

Harry was skeptical. "Really?"

"Of course. The professors don't have the time to search every nook and cranny of Hogwarts," Dumbledore nodded with a slight smile. "Besides, this bathroom has been abandoned for fifty years and is rarely used."

"We're not intruding into a girls' bathroom like perverts."

Harry approached the sink and skillfully spoke in Parseltongue, "Open."

A blinding white light flashed.

The faucet twisted, slithering like a snake to the left. The pipes rattled, pulling the sink along as it vibrated noisily, twisting open to reveal a round opening—more like the entrance to a giant pipe.

"So, it's really here." Harry rubbed his face, his expression complicated. "I wonder what Senior Tom was up to, searching for the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets."

Late at night.

When the Ravenclaws sneaked into the restricted section of the library...

The Hufflepuffs explored the kitchens...

And the Gryffindors schemed about their next big adventure...

Tom must have been scouring bathroom after bathroom, painstakingly searching.

"Alright, Professor McGonagall, you can take Mr. Potter back now," Snape said with a flick of his cloak. "This is not a place he should linger—"

"No, we still need Harry," Dumbledore interrupted.

Snape drew his wand, his voice cold. "You know very well what's down there!"

"But we might still need Parseltongue." Dumbledore pulled out a thumb-sized crystal vial from his robe, containing a small amount of clear, sparkling liquid. "Don't worry, I have phoenix tears."

Harry's eyes lit up.

Phoenix tears—rare and powerful with remarkable healing properties. They weren't on any restricted lists, but you couldn't find them even in Diagon Alley.

"Harry, would you like some?" Dumbledore noticed his gaze.

"Of course," Harry replied. "How about as compensation for being forced to participate in this?"

Witchers, after all, never walk away empty-handed.

"Then it's a deal," Dumbledore said, waving his wand to cast a spell on Harry and Snape. He turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, please keep watch here."

McGonagall nodded.

The three of them slipped into the pipe, Dumbledore's spell gently guiding them forward.

"Harry," Dumbledore began, sharing more information. "I spoke with Moaning Myrtle—the student who died fifty years ago. She said she only saw a pair of glowing, lantern-like yellow things before she died."

"Any guesses?"

A pair? That must mean eyes.

Yellow, deadly upon sight...

Harry quickly matched the description to an entry in his knowledge of dark creatures. "A basilisk?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Precisely."

"So be careful once we're down there. Close your eyes," Snape said coldly, laced with sarcasm. "Don't act like a brainless troll and gawk at everything you see."

"There's no need for you to interfere," he continued. "Dumbledore and I can handle it."

"Can I keep the basilisk's skin, fangs, and spine?" Harry asked.

"As long as you stay out of trouble," Snape immediately agreed on Dumbledore's behalf. "You can take all those worthless scraps back for your childish little armor games."

"I'm deeply grateful for your generosity," Harry said expressionlessly.

Snape huffed, turning his head away, ignoring him.

They soon reached the bottom.

The pipe ended in a natural cavern—damp, dark, eerily quiet. No signs of life, only the steady dripping of water.

Snape waved his wand, lighting up the space and revealing a ground covered in bones. Most were small rodents, occasionally mixed with fish bones.

"Our basilisk's diet seems unimpressive," Harry observed casually. "A thousand years of living off this stuff—how pitiful."

Dumbledore waved his wand, sweeping the bones into the shadows, and led the way forward.

They passed a flat area.

Harry stopped abruptly.

"What is it?" Dumbledore's expression grew serious, his magic beginning to gather in his hand.

Harry gestured. "Something used to be here. Something large—at least twenty feet long. There's a faint magical residue."

"The basilisk rested here?" Dumbledore frowned, staring at the seemingly ordinary patch of ground.

"No, it was a shed skin," Harry shook his head, crouching to touch the ground. "It was just taken—very recently. The trail is fresh, less than a day old."

He looked up at Dumbledore.

"Or rather, during the Quidditch match."

"They anticipated us finding the Chamber and prepared ahead of time."

"It seems we'll find nothing this time."

Dumbledore frowned. "That's not good news."

They continued onward.

Nearly at the castle's boundaries, they arrived at a solid stone wall adorned with two lifelike stone serpents. Their eyes were inlaid with sparkling emeralds, giving the illusion of sentience.

"Open," Harry commanded again in Parseltongue.

The emerald eyes flashed, and the serpents slithered aside, dragging the stone wall with them and revealing a wide corridor.

It led to a vast hall, dark and cold, filled with a thick, toxic air.

"Is that the basilisk's scent?" Harry wrinkled his nose. It was truly unpleasant.

Dumbledore waved his wand, casting protective spells over them. He stepped inside alone first. After a while, he called back, "Come in. It's safe."

The hall was even larger inside.

Thirteen massive pillars supported the immense structure, each carved with coiling snakes in various poses—striking, coiling, hunting.

At the far end of the hall stood a towering statue.

The figure was monkey-like, with a sparse beard, and wore a robe so long it seemed ill-fitted.

"So this is Slytherin?" Harry asked, moving to stand beside Dumbledore.

Dumbledore nodded.

"I expected him to look more like Voldemort," Harry commented casually, then stepped closer. "I'll try speaking to it again."

"Maybe it'll summon the basilisk."

Dumbledore raised his wand.

"Open!" Harry shouted in Parseltongue with his eyes closed.

The sound of rumbling filled the air, but nothing happened. Only a faint magical aura was released before everything went silent again.

"There's no basilisk here," Dumbledore reassured.

Harry opened his eyes.

Slytherin's mouth was wide open, a gaping black hole taking up nearly half the statue's face.

"Let's take a look inside," Dumbledore said, lifting them with magic into the statue's mouth.

Inside was a room as large as the Gryffindor common room.

It was dry, clean...

And completely empty.

No books on the shelves, no rare materials in the cabinets—everything had been cleared out.

"Senior Tom sure cleaned up well," Harry remarked after a thorough search. "I'm honestly impressed."

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Powerstones?

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