As the last chapter told, the house-elf appeared in the DADA classroom, claiming Dumbledore urgently summoned Harry.
Lockhart, hearing this, panicked. He stammered, "Please wait, little fellow. It is class time."
"I will not allow my students to skip class—not even if Professor Dumbledore himself..."
His words were righteous, but his thoughts were calculating. He was afraid if he let his golden goose, Harry, leave, the "victory" would be meaningless, unable to show off his own "master teaching."
The house-elf was unmoved. "But Professor Dumbledore must see Mr. Harry Potter. He said it is a very urgent matter."
Harry's heart leaped. The Professor is a man of rules. To pull me from class... can it be he's found a trace of the Chamber?
He suppressed his killing intent. "If it is so, lead the way."
The elf nodded, then turned to Snape. "Mr. Severus Snape, please come as well."
Snape sneered. "Ha! He told me to come here and be Lockhart's helper. Now I'm here, and he tells me to go to him?"
"What is he doing?"
The elf glanced at Snape's dark face. "Professor Dumbledore said... it is... confidential..."
"Heh. In his eyes, what isn't confidential?" Snape snapped his robes. "Lead the way."
Harry knew Draco possessed dark artifacts and was dangerous. He leaned in to Ron and Hermione.
"Sister and Brother, this one must go. I know not when I will return. You two must remember: if that Draco provokes you, do not engage. Wait for my return, and I will reason with him."
Ron and Hermione nodded. Harry cupped his hands to them and left.
Lockhart watched Harry and Snape leave, pacing like a headless fly, crying inwardly.
How did my assistant leave too!
The star and the antagonist are both gone! What's the point of this Dueling Club now?
Draco, seeing Harry disappear, relaxed. He ripped off his robe, threw it to the ground, and rolled up his sleeves, shouting:
"That Scarhead ran off! Who'll be my opponent now? Are all you Gryffindors cowards?"
Lockhart, seeing Draco's "steel-bar" arms, had a bright idea. The Malfoy brand is also good!
He's from the Sacred Twenty-Eight! My new book, "The Man Behind the Malfoy Family," will sell like crazy!
He scurried over. "Good form, Mr. Malfoy. However, your... attire... is a bit lacking in wizarding etiquette..."
Draco tilted his head back. "You don't need etiquette to deal with that brainless Scarhead."
"He's not worthy!"
Ron, hearing Draco insult Harry, and seeing Lockhart acting like a two-faced rat, his "nameless fire" shot through the roof. He completely forgot Harry's warning.
In a flash! Shua! Ron ripped off his own robe, tossed it aside, and vaulted onto the stage.
His eyes were wide, his red hair standing on end, his wand held tight.
"I will duel you!"
"I want to see just how 'pure' those potion-muscles are!"
"Ah, Mr. Weasley accepts!" Lockhart beamed. "Alright, hold your wands like swords! When I count to three, cast your spell... to disarm your opponent."
"Now, on my count! One—"
"RICTUSEMPRA!"
"TOTA-GUT-RIPPER!" (掏肠破肚, Tāochángpòdù!)
The two attacked at the same instant. But their spells were of different strengths—one a cotton needle, the other a diamond club.
A savage grin spread across Draco's face. A blood-red rainbow shot from his wand.
(What happened in that duel, we shall set aside for now.)
Let us speak of Harry and Snape, who followed the elf to the second floor.
They were silent the entire way. One's face was dark water, the other's eyes were cold stars. The air around them was frigid, making the house-elf shiver.
The elf hesitated, wanting to liven the mood. "Mr. Harry Potter... why do you carry... a knife?"
Harry laughed loudly. "Naturally! To guard against treacherous villains!"
"Speaking of 'treacherous'..." Snape drew out his words, "A while ago, some ingredients went missing from my private stores. And... a bag of Galleons mysteriously appeared in my office."
"Does Mr. Potter have any... 'clues'?"
Harry stared straight ahead. "Professor's words are strange. How would this one know of your locks and keys?"
"My lock showed no sign of magical tampering. It seemed more like... Muggle lock-picking."
Snape pressed closer, almost in Harry's face. "Does our 'righteous and generous' Scarred-Face Chieftain... have nothing to say?"
"Or is your understanding of 'Gryffindor courage' just... breaking the law?"
"Hah! If you say so! Then this Professor's 'Slytherin ambition' must be to make all men bow before your 'bat-skirt'!"
"HARRY! JAMES! POTTER!" Snape seethed. "I will say this one last time! There was nothing between me and James Potter!"
"Then how do you explain the DOE PATRONUS! You! Explain that to this one!"
Snape's eyes bulged, the muscles in his cheeks twitching, veins popping on his forehead. He looked ready to murder Harry.
Just as the "swords were drawn," the house-elf suddenly slammed its head against the wall, wailing, "It's all my fault! All my fault!"
"I spoke wrongly! I made the masters unhappy! All my fault..."
Seeing the elf about to dash its brains out, Harry and Snape both huffed and fell silent.
They walked on. At the entrance to the washroom, Dumbledore was already waiting, flanked by McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout.
"Good afternoon, Harry, Severus," Dumbledore smiled.
Harry bowed to the professors. "Why are all the Professors gathered here? Did you all... forget your toilet paper?"
Flitwick waved his wand and laughed. "Of course not, Harry. We are wizards. The Cleaning Charm is much better."
McGonagall and Sprout, hearing this, their faces didn't move, but their hearts jumped.
Wait... has Filius... never used paper?
As they were musing, Dumbledore, in no mood for it, shook his head. "The house-elves found the trace. The snake symbol you spoke of is in this very girls' washroom."
Harry spat. "Pah! What a vulgar, base embryo that Salazar was! To build his Chamber in a girls' washroom!"
"Oh, Harry, Hogwarts has been renovated many times. Perhaps only the oldest ghosts know what this room used to be. As for this century... it has been abandoned for fifty years."
"Why?" Harry asked.
"Because fifty years ago, the Chamber was opened," Dumbledore said grimly. "A student named Myrtle... died here."
"The culprit was caught?"
"...No. I was only the Transfiguration professor then." Dumbledore, unwilling to say more, entered the washroom. "Come, Harry. Let us solve the problem at hand."
Inside, the elf led them to a circular sink. He pointed to a faucet carved with a snake.
"This is the symbol. And it is enchanted against all magic."
"Harry, please, try," Dumbledore said. "Use Parseltongue."
Harry stepped forward, inspected the faucet, took a breath, and hissed, "OPEN!"
That command... it shook the gods. With a rumble, the sinks all retreated into the walls, revealing a pitch-black chute.
Harry drew his blade and wand, shouting a spell, raising an earthen wall for cover.
The professors tensed. Dumbledore cast a shield; Snape downed several potions; Flitwick vanished into the shadows; Sprout's sleeves erupted with vines.
McGonagall, seeing the Chamber was real, pressed her lips into a thin line. "I will scout."
She leaped, transforming into a tabby cat, and darted into the hole. Sprout's vines followed, anchoring to the walls.
Dumbledore had meant for Harry to wait, but before he could speak, Harry had already jumped into the abyss.
Dumbledore sighed and motioned for Snape and Flitwick to follow.
The chute was deep. When they landed, they heard crunching underfoot.
They looked down. The floor was covered... in mountains of white bones.
"What... what bones are these?!" McGonagall cried, horrified.
Harry picked one up. "Professor, fear not. Just the broken bones of feathered beasts and mountain animals. Not human."
McGonagall relaxed. But wait... how does Harry know they aren't human? He hasn't... seen human bones, has he?
As she was pondering, Flitwick shrieked, "Merlin's staff! What is THAT?"
Hanging from the ceiling... was a massive, shed snakeskin.
It was fifty feet long, and the stench was overpowering.
"It's a Basilisk," Dumbledore said quietly.
(Readers, this Basilisk... was created by the Greek Dark Wizard, Herpo the Foul. Hatched by a toad from a chicken's egg.)
"A Basilisk's gaze means instant death," Dumbledore said. "Indirect contact causes petrification. Mrs. Norris... was found near a puddle of water."
Flitwick gasped. "Ah! Myrtle! She told me... she saw 'two small yellow lights'!"
Harry understood. "Damnable wretch! No wonder this one heard it speaking in the walls! It was crawling through the pipes!"
They moved past the skin to a round, carved door. Harry spoke Parseltongue again. The door opened, revealing a vast, magnificent hall.
(The poet-narrator notes: Green bricks for walls, mermaid-oil lamps, a wide path, snake-head statues... and at the end, the giant stone face of the Chamber's master, Salazar.)
Harry took in the sight. This is a blessed Grotto-Heaven!
He looked at the stone face. Its mouth was open, revealing another stone door.
Harry spoke the password again. The mouth opened, revealing a dark hole.
"It seems the Basilisk hides here," Dumbledore said, sending magical lights into the various sewage pipes. "I have marked these exits. If the Basilisk passes, it will trigger Fiendfyre."
Harry nodded. "This one will go to those pipes and 'talk' to the snake. I will surely find its lair."
"Parseltongue..." Dumbledore murmured. "Harry... I think you must prepare for the worst."
"It may be... that Voldemort has returned."
Harry leaned on his knife. "If that scoundrel dares come, this one will shatter his soul! He harmed my parents, he usurps my Chamber! I will settle all debts, new and old!"
"One moment, Potter," Snape sneered. "What do you mean, your Chamber?"
"Hah! If this one had not opened the way, could you have entered?"
"Yes, the Heir of the Chamber is a Gryffindor. I'm sure Mr. Salazar would have no objections!"
Harry raised his hands in a mock bow to the statue. "The old Duke Salazar said it himself: Whoever opens the Chamber is the Heir! This one carries a fragment of Voldemort's soul. It is not wrong to say I am half-Slytherin! How is my claim 'illegitimate'?"
Snape actually laughed. "Your loyalties are quite... flexible, Mr. Chimera." He swept his robes and left.
Dumbledore shook his head. "Don't mind Severus, Harry. He hasn't been in a good mood since I made him Lockhart's helper. Ah... speaking of which, shouldn't you be getting back to class?"
Harry, startled, bowed and ran out, Snape just ahead of him.
Before they even entered the classroom, they heard shouting.
"Is that... all you've got... Malfoy..."
"Shut up, Weasley! Want more?"
Harry's heart seized. Brother... has clashed with that Draco!
He burst through the door. The stage was a mess. Ron... Ron was bruised and swollen, almost unrecognizable.
"Harry!" Hermione rushed over, grabbing his robe. "Quick, stop Ron! He won't let us help, but he refuses to surrender!"
"And! Draco is fighting dirty! He's using curses from the Restricted Section..."
Before she finished, Harry had vaulted onto the stage, catching Ron as he fell. "Brother!"
Ron, seeing Harry, the fight went out of him. He was running on fumes. He went limp in Harry's arms.
"Sorry... Harry... I should have... listened to you..."
"Malfoy... dark magic... be careful..."
Ron's face was ashen. His words were a faint thread.
Harry... his killing intent, his煞气 (Sha Qi), his rage... exploded.
(He remembered his past life... his brother...)
He drew his knife. The white light blinded Draco.
"Come on, Scarhead!" Draco yelled, bracing himself.
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