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Bad news kept coming, one wave after another… though none of it had anything to do with Sargeras. He wasn't the headmaster, after all, so it wasn't his job to worry about the school's fate.
Still, there was one matter that nagged at him enough that he couldn't help calling the three of them over — Harry, Ron, and Hermione — to get to the bottom of it.
"You're saying Lockhart never showed up in the corridor? That from beginning to end, none of you saw him anywhere near the scene when the basilisk attacked?"
"No, Professor," Harry answered honestly. "We never saw him at all."
"I see…" Sargeras gave a faint nod, his thoughts beginning to churn beneath his calm expression.
Lockhart had vanished.
Ever since the basilisk incident yesterday, he had become the only person in the entire castle to have completely disappeared.
But the question was… why?
Was it just sheer bad luck? Had he stumbled right into the basilisk's path and been swallowed whole? If that were the case, then the fire Sargeras had used back there… well, he doubted there would be anything left. Not even ashes to find.
Or had he fled? Could it be that he was the one — the Heir of Slytherin who had been hiding within Hogwarts all along?
Sargeras considered that possibility, but when he pictured Lockhart's theatrical flair and pompous demeanor, he found it nearly impossible to associate such a man with the image of the cunning and elusive heir.
If Lockhart really was the Heir of Slytherin, then he had hidden himself almost too well… so well that he had fooled nearly everyone in the castle.
"Professor… do you think Lockhart might have…" Harry hesitated, his voice low and uncertain.
"Hmm?" Sargeras raised an eyebrow slightly.
"…Never mind."
"There's no need to hold back," Sargeras said in an even tone, his voice steady and calm. "If you know anything at all — any detail, any clue — feel free to tell me. As for the whereabouts of your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor… I believe the truth will reveal itself in time."
"Is it really true that Hogwarts might get shut down?" Ron asked anxiously, unable to hide the worry in his voice. "The Daily Prophet said that…"
"That's not something you need to concern yourself with, Mr. Weasley," Sargeras replied with a faint smile. "Hogwarts has stood strong for over a thousand years. Even if it does close its doors, it would only be temporary. That much, I can promise you."
Ron gave a small nod, though his brow remained furrowed.
Hermione, meanwhile, had barely said a word the entire time. Ever since the basilisk attack, the young witch had changed… she seemed quieter, withdrawn, her mind lost in thought and shadowed by something heavy.
"Miss Granger?" Sargeras finally turned to her, having noticed her silence. "Is there something you'd like to say?"
"Uh—me?" Hermione blinked, almost as if startled out of a trance. "No… no, nothing to say, Professor Greengrass."
"I hope you don't resent what Noctis did back then," Sargeras said gently, his gaze meeting hers. "The situation was urgent. He had no other choice."
"You've misunderstood, Professor!" Hermione immediately waved her hands, clearly flustered. "I'm not upset at all! I'm grateful… more than grateful. Mr. Noctis saved my life. I just… I just feel…" Her voice trailed off, growing softer, tinged with frustration and something close to shame.
"You feel like your instincts always get in the way when it matters most," Sargeras finished for her, putting into words the thoughts she hadn't been able to speak aloud.
Hermione nodded silently, her fingers twisting together in her lap without her even realizing it.
"Everyone has weaknesses, Miss Granger," Sargeras said, his tone growing even gentler, almost warm. "Just as everyone has strengths — some of which take time to reveal themselves."
His voice softened further as he continued, "Especially when one's powers are still growing, those weaknesses can seem overwhelming. Instinct, in those moments, has a way of amplifying fear and hesitation."
He looked at the three young witches and wizards in front of him, each of them marked by the recent ordeal, yet still standing, and spoke with quiet weight, "To truly wield your strengths, you must first temper them. And to overcome instinct, there's always a price to pay. It's a long road ahead. No one is born strong~"
The three young witches and wizards fell into quiet thought, each of them reflecting silently on Sargeras's words.
"And besides," Sargeras went on after a short pause, his tone carrying a trace of understanding, "your performance this time wasn't nearly as bad as you think."
He let the words linger for a moment, then added with a knowing smile, "After all, not many people know what it's like to be chased down by a basilisk. Looking back in that kind of moment? That's only natural. A completely human reaction."
Hermione nodded gently, saying nothing, though her silence seemed more at peace now.
"Professor," Harry suddenly spoke up, unable to hold back his curiosity, "when you were in your second year… I bet you were way better than us, right? We heard you got perfect marks in every subject back when you were in school."
"Hm, that question…" Sargeras paused, as if giving it a moment's thought. "Being 'better' is always a matter of perspective. As for grades? Yes, that part is true."
A subtle smile curved at the corner of his lips. "Even if some professors didn't particularly like me, as long as they couldn't find a single fault in my work, there was nothing they could deduct points for."
"Oh…" the three of them responded at once, though the faint disappointment on their faces was hard to hide.
"But of course," Sargeras continued, smoothly shifting the conversation, "if you often feel like there just isn't enough time in a day, then I could share a little trick that might help."
"What trick?" Hermione perked up at once, her eyes lighting with eager curiosity.
"Two spells," Sargeras replied simply. "Master them, and you'll find yourself with almost twice as much time as everyone else."
As he spoke, he pulled out a sheet of parchment. With a tap of his knuckle against its surface, rows of densely written text shimmered into view, filling the page like words summoned from thin air.
Then, with another tap, the parchment split cleanly into three separate pieces.
"Waking Requiem and Sleep Banishment," he said as the three slips of parchment floated gently through the air and landed in their hands. "If you learn to use them properly, you'll only need to sleep once every ten days."
He added with a light, casual smile, "Of course, whether you actually want to learn them… that's entirely up to you."
The golden trio stared at him in surprise, all three looking somewhat stunned — especially at the idea of sleeping only once every ten days. That part clearly left them a little shaken.
Sargeras noticed their expressions and gave a quiet laugh.
"This isn't some mandatory requirement," he said kindly. "I'm just giving you another option… something to consider."
"After all, even if you don't pass your OWLs, it wouldn't be the end of the world. Making a living in the wizarding world isn't all that hard."
He glanced at them with a warm, thoughtful expression, then added, "Still, it never hurts to learn a little more than you need."
And with that, he gave the three of them a small, polite nod, bringing the conversation to a quiet close.
————————————————————
He still had to pay Moaning Myrtle a visit.
Sargeras had originally intended to speak with her in hopes of gathering some clues about the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, but the sudden chaos of the basilisk attack had thrown all of that off course.
Now that things had calmed — at least somewhat — if he could locate the entrance, it might bring them one step closer to unmasking the true culprit behind it all.
But when he stepped into Myrtle's bathroom, bottle in hand with the poltergeist Peeves still sealed inside, what he saw was nothing like what he had expected.
There she was… Moaning Myrtle, petrified!
She no longer looked like her usual self, that faintly glowing, milky-white ghost drifting through her favorite bathroom. Her entire body was now pitch black, like charcoal burned down to the bone, her form surrounded by a faint swirl of half-solid smoke. She floated motionless a few inches above the floor, and on her face, frozen in time, was not terror… but surprise. Far more surprise than fear.
Sargeras had never seen anything like it before. Even with all his knowledge and experience, this was beyond anything he'd ever read or heard of.
He honestly didn't know whether Myrtle was the luckiest or the unluckiest ghost in Hogwarts history — to be petrified not once, but twice, by the basilisk's stare. That kind of "honor" was probably unmatched across the wizarding world.
He quickly informed Dumbledore of the situation, but the headmaster had his hands full. The entire castle was in chaos. Panic had spread like wildfire, consuming every corridor and common room. Dumbledore was barely managing to keep things from falling apart and clearly couldn't spare the time for a petrified ghost.
But for Sargeras, the strange sight sparked a sudden thought: what if the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was right here, in this very bathroom?
Seizing on the idea, he sprang into action.
Using Parseltongue, he spoke to every toilet in the bathroom, repeating the command "Open!" again and again, his voice echoing against the tiled walls with the sharp hiss of the snake-like tongue.
But no matter how many times he tried, the only answer he received was cold, unbroken silence.
The toilets remained just that… toilets. There was no shimmer of magic, no secret passage opening, not even the faintest hint that they were anything more than porcelain and plumbing.
Sargeras frowned, his brow deeply furrowed.
Had he been wrong?
Growing frustrated, he began pacing across the bathroom floor, his footsteps echoing quietly as his fingers tapped impatiently against the side of the glass bottle that still held the sulking poltergeist inside.
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[Chapter End's]
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