After dinner, Melvin, accompanied by the headmaster, headed to the girls' bathroom to deal with the basilisk—the relic left by one of Hogwarts' founders.
The copper faucet at the bathroom sink, a Muggle artifact from the school's plumbing overhaul two centuries ago, gleamed from regular cleaning and magical preservation. No trace of oxidation marred its surface, only faint water stains. The snake-shaped carving on the handle stood out clearly.
A few drops of potion, paired with a memory, triggered a hissing sound. The faucet spun rapidly, emitting a soft white glow.
In the light, a dark pipeline opened, releasing the fermented stench of a sealed passage, sharp and slightly pungent.
Melvin dispelled the memory mist. "From my research, the original Chamber entrance wasn't here. During the 18th-century plumbing renovation, a student named Corvinus Gaunt was involved and altered the entrance to what it is now."
Dumbledore's face brimmed with curiosity, though he didn't press Melvin for details. After casting waterproof and anti-damp charms, he leaned close to the pipe, sniffed, then applied a Bubble-Head Charm to block the smell before sliding into the slick, damp passage.
A cluster of bright blue flames ignited in the pipe, drifting with the airflow, trailing closely behind the two wizards.
After a winding slide, they landed on a stone platform at the tunnel's entrance. The blue flames floated out, splitting into four or five smaller orbs, their soft glow spreading across the stone walls, banishing the cold, eerie atmosphere.
Melvin glanced at the floor, littered with chaotic footprints—left by Lockhart and the drama club students. They'd lingered here for a few minutes, some prints even marking the walls, likely from second- or third-years.
"Hogwarts… always full of surprises for those who come after," Dumbledore's wistful voice echoed in the stone chamber.
Melvin turned to see the headmaster standing by the wall, his blue eyes reflecting the firelight, brimming with a childlike eagerness—less like a century-old headmaster and more like a second-year student.
If Melvin weren't here, he suspected Dumbledore would've left his own footprints on the wall.
Shaking his head, Melvin pressed forward. "Based on school records and legends, this Chamber was built in secret by Slytherin after a falling-out with Gryffindor. He didn't tell the other founders, and soon after its completion, Slytherin left Hogwarts."
Dumbledore, familiar with the lore, spoke slowly. "It's said Slytherin left a monster in the Chamber, hoping his heir would one day open it and use the beast to purge the school of Muggle-born students."
In the stone tunnel, the blue flames illuminated the path, their warmth stirring the air, making the enclosed space feel alive with echoing footsteps.
Melvin guided the flames ahead as they navigated the winding tunnel. "In truth, for nine hundred years, the basilisk has been in deep slumber, never actively harming students. Myrtle's incident was more of an accident, with the real culprit being Voldemort, who controlled the basilisk with Parseltongue."
Dumbledore nodded slightly.
They reached the tunnel's end, where a thick stone wall blocked their path. Two carved serpents intertwined, their arched necks framing emerald eyes that glinted faintly. A vertical crack down the center revealed it was a double door.
"I've always had a question," Melvin said, using potion to play a recorded Parseltongue phrase while turning to the headmaster. "How does the wizarding world define Slytherin? He was paranoid, quick to anger, obsessed with pureblood supremacy, dabbled in dark magic, bred a basilisk… Was he a dark wizard?"
The stone doors parted, revealing the Chamber of Secrets.
Dim and cold, the Chamber was flanked by towering pillars wrapped with serpent carvings, their bared fangs and forked tongues vivid with scales. No torches lit the space—only flickering green mist on the ceiling cast an eerie, majestic glow, like a grand hall.
In the distance stood Slytherin's statue, its face far from handsome—aged, bald, almost ugly, yet exuding stern authority.
Dumbledore paused at the entrance, not answering immediately. He studied the statue from afar, then glanced at the scattered rubble on the floor—debris from the basilisk's clash with the students, leaving the scene in disarray.
"Those who use dark magic for personal power, wealth, or desire, who lack empathy, disregard life and dignity, and kill innocents—they are dark wizards," Dumbledore said softly, stepping into the Chamber. "None of that applies to Mr. Slytherin."
His measured words echoed, as if the statue, standing at the Chamber's heart, gazed across a millennium at the headmaster.
The Parseltongue phrase sounded again.
"It means, 'Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four,'" Melvin explained, adding, "Considering Slytherin set this as the password, I think he might've been a narcissist."
The statue's mouth opened with a dull rumble. Far from the firelight, the green mist dimmed, shrouding the statue in shadow. A vague, massive serpent's outline emerged, slithering down to them.
Its yellow, lantern-sized eyes glowed, wild yet tinged with confusion. Visually, the scene was striking.
But in another dimension, a hidden surge of magic washed over them—the overwhelming power of a 900-year-old 5X dangerous creature. Its gaze, embodying death and petrification, was deadlier than its venom.
Melvin maintained a protective barrier around himself, watching the legendary wizard beside him closely.
He couldn't quite see what Dumbledore did, but the basilisk's lethal magic was silently neutralized by an equally vast, powerful force, dissolving like snow in warm water without a ripple.
"I noticed its eyelids are thickened. Did you use Transfiguration to adjust them?" Dumbledore asked calmly, as if deflecting the petrifying magic was a trivial act, showcasing a legendary wizard's mystique and power.
Whether it was an act or genuine, Melvin couldn't tell.
Keeping his own expression neutral, Melvin replied, "The basilisk can't control its killing magic. Its gaze kills, but a physical barrier blocks direct eye contact, limiting it to petrification. It's safer for students—like Muggle contact lenses."
Dumbledore nodded, continuing to observe.
The basilisk hissed in irritation, fed up with these non-Parselmouths. It had been hit with too many Stunning Spells earlier, and with winter's chill, its instinct to hibernate made it drowsy.
If it hadn't slept for eight hundred years, then another fifty after its last awakening, it would've kept dozing.
Ignoring its grumbling, Melvin didn't bother arguing with a creature that couldn't speak human language. He pulled a few acromantulas from his pocket and tossed them to the basilisk.
Freed from the Undetectable Extension Charm, the spiders expanded, hitting the ground with a thud.
The basilisk's eyes lit up, eager to feast, but it paused, noticing their odd color. It hissed again, displeased.
Melvin, though not a Parselmouth, understood. He conjured two handfuls of blazing flames, half-heartedly roasting the spiders until the scent of cooked protein filled the air, then dismissed the fire.
The basilisk happily dug in.
Dumbledore watched the serpent swallow the spiders whole, his blue eyes fixed. After a long silence, he asked, "Acromantulas… Does Hagrid know about this?"
"He doesn't, and neither does Aragog, probably," Melvin said calmly. "The acromantula colony breeds too fast, overwhelming the centaurs and unicorns. Food's scarce, and every winter, some starve. I grabbed a few while they were hibernating—easing their burden."
"…"
Dumbledore's expression grew complicated.
Melvin smiled softly. "Books say basilisks are acromantulas' natural predators because their eight eyes can't close, making them easy targets. But there's another reason—basilisks find them delicious."
Dumbledore smiled faintly. "What do you plan to do with the basilisk?"
"I want to keep it here."
"Why?" Dumbledore didn't seem surprised.
Melvin pointed to the basilisk's head, where a slightly paler scale concealed a round, pearly white egg. "See that scale? It's a Horned Serpent egg. I need the basilisk's magic to hatch it."
Dumbledore followed his gaze, curiosity flickering. "That's a secondary reason, isn't it?"
"Yes. I don't think the basilisk should be killed or removed."
Melvin wasn't sure when or why the idea took root—perhaps the Horned Serpent's influence. "It's lived here nearly a millennium, longer than any student or teacher. It hasn't actively harmed anyone. Slytherin's purpose for leaving it here is lost to time, but it wasn't to purge anyone."
"How do you plan to handle it?"
"I'm not sure yet. For now, I'd seal the Chamber entrance completely and, once Harry's awake, use Parseltongue to put the basilisk back to sleep."
Dumbledore pondered, then shook his head. "I can't approve that. As long as the Chamber and the basilisk exist, there's a risk of discovery and misuse. Someone could manipulate it without Parseltongue—just lure it out. It's a lethal danger to others."
Melvin fell silent.
The headmaster was right. The basilisk was a volatile bomb, capable of killing with a glance, even without intent. As long as it remained at Hogwarts, it was a threat to students.
Melvin looked at the basilisk, now sluggish from devouring seven acromantulas, its swollen body struggling to move—nothing like the fierce beast that faced students earlier.
"Relocate it to the Forbidden Forest's depths?"
"The centaur elders would have my head."
"African rainforest?"
"That'd violate about 470 International Confederation of Wizards laws."
"This won't do, that won't do…" Melvin threw up his hands. "Fine, kill it then."
Dumbledore glanced at him, ignoring the grumbling. "I have a friend who's adept at handling dangerous creatures. He could craft a containment box and hide the basilisk somewhere only the headmaster knows."
"Mr. Scamander?"
"Yes, he's always eager for such tasks."
Dumbledore spoke unhurriedly. "Until then, looking after the basilisk is your responsibility."
"No problem," Melvin agreed, nodding. "I need to monitor the Horned Serpent egg anyway."
The basilisk, sprawled ahead, hissed.
Both wizards looked up, a radiant glow catching their eyes—not the basilisk's yellow pupils, but a frosty, moonlike light.
In the flowing glow, a scale trembled, the oval egg quivering. A crack spread across it, like wet paper tearing, nearly silent.
The light faded. The basilisk slithered closer, its top scale lifting to reveal the deflated egg, its nutrients absorbed. A damp, newborn serpent lay within.
Melvin leaned in. The snake was pearlescent white with a hint of pink, its scales unformed, resembling a net-like pattern, still shimmering with faint moonlight.
A tiny horn protruded from its forehead, barely noticeable.
Its dark, obsidian-like eyes gazed blankly, unsure if they could even see.
The newborn serpent stared at Melvin, dazed, its blue-purple tongue flicking and trembling.
Melvin smiled, reaching out to touch the creature, with whom he already felt a bond.
The snake, unable to distinguish fingers, bit down. Its teeth hadn't grown in, leaving no mark or venom—just a painless nip.
Melvin flicked its head lightly. The serpent tipped back, realized its mistake, and nuzzled his fingertip affectionately.
His other fingers curled around its body, and the snake instinctively coiled around them, treating his hand as a perch. Its head nestled into the soft skin at the base of his thumb, completely at ease.
Melvin met its gaze, chuckling softly. "Little guy, from now on, you're Jörmungandr Gaunt."
The snake, oblivious, flicked its tail tip gently.
"Why that name?" Dumbledore asked suddenly.
Melvin, teasing the serpent, explained softly, "It was born from a snake tree, formed from Slytherin's wand, so it's essentially his descendant. Hence, Gaunt."
Dumbledore watched the interaction, reminded of Muggle myths.
Jörmungandr, the Midgard Serpent.
The World Snake.