Chapter 142: Silven on the Three-Headed Dog

Tonight was an extraordinary night, Professor McGonagall felt; everything she had experienced all year might not compare to the events of this single evening.

But out of duty as a professor, she followed Hermione to the second floor, and as they climbed the stairs, she couldn’t help asking:

“So you’re saying that pompous fool Lockhart not only destroyed the magic Dumbledore left behind, opened Salazar Slytherin’s Chamber, and then kidnapped a student?”

The more she spoke, the stranger her expression became; honestly, she’d rather believe a student had ridden a dragon to defeat the Basilisk—though that was equally absurd, at least it was marginally more plausible than Lockhart’s actions.

“Yes, Professor, we saw it with our own eyes—it was Lockhart…” Hermione hesitated, then continued, “but there was another person—we didn’t see him, only Lockhart knows.”

As they spoke, they reached the second floor, outside Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

The last trace of Professor McGonagall’s doubt vanished the moment she saw the gap in the door and the puddles flooding the corridor; clearly, every word Hermione had spoken was true.

“Merlin’s beard… how could this be!” Professor McGonagall hurried forward.

The magic on the door hadn’t fully disappeared, but a gap had opened—just large enough for an adult wizard to squeeze through.

The bathroom appeared to have been the site of a struggle, though not a violent one; only one sink had been shattered, its shards scattered everywhere, water gushing from the pipes and soaking the floor.

Professor McGonagall glanced around and felt something was off… oh, it was too quiet.

Then she saw Moaning Myrtle, floating motionless above the ceiling.

She had never been this still—her form wreathed in smoke, her face twisted in terror.

Professor McGonagall took several deep breaths, refusing to look at the abnormal ghost, and strode to another sink.

The brass faucet here was undamaged, intact, bearing not only Slytherin’s mark but also the Hogwarts crest.

This was one of Dumbledore’s safeguards.

As Professor McGonagall approached, the crest’s image came alive—a lion leapt toward them, followed by an eagle, a badger, and a serpent.

Professor McGonagall waved her wand, and in an instant, the creatures vanished.

Professor McGonagall turned to Hermione.

“I can’t open it…” Hermione said, “it was Harry—he made a strange hissing sound, and the pipe widened.”

“Hissing sound…” Professor McGonagall suddenly recalled something Dumbledore had told her; a realization struck her. “Parsseltongue—is Mr. Potter a Parselmouth?”

“What did you just say—Parsel… what?” Hermione blinked, confused.

“The ability to speak to snakes,” Professor McGonagall explained.

“I didn’t know,” Hermione shook her head. “But it does sound like that.”

At this point, Professor McGonagall was nearly certain the Chamber’s entrance required Parseltongue—but neither she nor Hermione possessed that ability, so they still couldn’t enter.

“Where’s Potter?”

“He should be near Hagrid’s hut, with Silven,” Hermione said. “Silven said we staying out of the way is the best help we can give Hagrid.”

“He’s right—you’d do well to remember those words.”

A faint trace of relief finally appeared on Professor McGonagall’s face, but it vanished quickly.

The urgent priority now was rescuing Ron Weasley; she had to find Harry—who could open the Chamber—as soon as possible.

The two returned to the entrance hall, where other professors had already covered every window, even the ceiling of the Great Hall.

Everyone was grateful the incident occurred at night, just before curfew; nearly everyone was still in their common rooms.

And since the Basilisk had appeared near the main entrance, no common room had a view of this area.

“Minerva, we must help Hagrid,” Professor Flitwick said at once as she approached. “The Basilisk’s venom can kill giants—we can’t let Hagrid face it alone.”

“Then let’s go together,” Professor McGonagall decided immediately. “Beware the Basilisk’s eyes.”

“Don’t worry—I can find the Basilisk with my eyes closed,” Professor Flitwick dashed out.

Professor Sprout directed several round objects to follow behind him.

Silven hadn’t been entirely correct—if this had been a sudden emergency, like encountering the Basilisk in the entrance hall, the professors’ effectiveness would have been far less than Hagrid’s.

But if the opponent was known in advance, the Basilisk’s threat diminished; the professors always had ways to counter it.

Snape did not go; he remained in the castle with the other professors, ready to guard against the Basilisk’s return.

After arranging all this, Professor McGonagall immediately left the castle to find Harry.

But as she stepped down the stairs, she felt the ground beneath her feet trembling slightly, and the shrubs around the castle began to sway uncontrollably.

“Ah!”

Hermione’s scream pierced the air; Professor McGonagall raised her head, instantly lifting her wand to eye level.

But the next moment, what she saw made her eyes widen.

From the dark Forbidden Forest came a thunderous crack of splitting trees—a massive three-headed dog burst forth… its body nearly twenty feet tall, resembling a running house, each head as large as a Quidditch goalpost.

Professor McGonagall now understood the source of the trembling she had felt.

Worse still, the three-headed dog wasn’t just huge—it was astonishingly fast; in the blink of an eye, it had already passed by, heading straight for the Quidditch pitch.

In a daze, Professor McGonagall thought she saw a person sitting atop the dog… surely she was mistaken; how could anyone ride a three-headed dog?

Professor McGonagall shook her head.

Though surprised by this sudden magical creature, she was not panicked.

For she had seen the three-headed dog last year—in the castle—and she knew well that Hagrid had been caring for it.

Perhaps it had sensed Hagrid’s danger and rushed out from the Forbidden Forest to help.

With the three-headed dog’s aid, their chances improved greatly.

As Professor McGonagall thought this, she transformed into a tabby cat and raced at top speed to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, outside Hagrid’s hut.

Harry was indeed there, standing motionless, staring ahead as if witnessing something unbelievable.

“Mr. Potter, come with me,” Professor McGonagall reverted to her human form, seized Harry’s arm, and swiftly scanned the surroundings.

Strange—where was the other person? Hermione said Silven was here too.

“Where’s Silven?” Professor McGonagall asked. “Listen, the field is too dangerous—you must return to the castle at once.”

“Silven…” Harry blurted out, “he’s… on the dog’s back.”

“What are you talking about?” Professor McGonagall frowned.

“The three-headed dog…” Harry finally realized, pointing at the shrinking silhouette ahead. “Silven is on the three-headed dog’s back!”

(End of Chapter)