Chapter 145: After

Silven had intended to return with Professor McGonagall, but he had taken only two steps before being sent back.

Although he insisted repeatedly that he was unharmed, Professor McGonagall refused to let him return to the common room and insisted he stay here.

“Professor Flitwick said you nearly got splashed by the Basilisk’s blood—that’s no joke!” Professor McGonagall said sternly. “And until we’ve fully investigated, this matter shouldn’t be known to more people, lest some treat the Chamber as a new adventure site.”

After speaking, Professor McGonagall left, instructing Madam Pomfrey not to let Silven return under any circumstances.

Silven was surprised; he knew the “some people” Professor McGonagall meant were Fred and George, who had frequently ventured into the Forbidden Forest since their arrival and certainly wouldn’t pass up the Chamber.

What puzzled Silven was another matter: Professor Flitwick had been at the Quidditch pitch the whole time—how had he informed Professor McGonagall?

Was it through a Two-way Mirror, an owl, or some other method the professors used to communicate?

But whichever it was, Professor McGonagall now knew, and after her words, Madam Pomfrey would never allow Silven to leave.

Silven could only walk over and sit on the empty bed beside Ron.

But this wasn’t so bad.

While Madam Pomfrey was preparing a potion, Silven quickly asked, “What exactly happened? How did you end up like this?”

“Don’t mention it,” Ron said, staring blankly at the ceiling. “This afternoon, we found the entrance to the Chamber…”

“Wait.” Silven interrupted him at once. “You’re sure it was the entrance to the Chamber?”

“A bathroom on the second floor,” Ron said. “Moaning Myrtle lives there.”

It really was the Chamber’s entrance…

“How did you find it?” Silven asked curiously.

“You reminded us,” Ron glanced at Silven. “You said Dumbledore had sealed the entrance with magic. Later, we overheard Nearly Headless Nick and the Fat Friar talking—they mentioned Peeves couldn’t get into Myrtle’s bathroom anymore.”

“At that moment, we immediately thought—maybe that was the Chamber’s entrance.”

Silven frowned. Was this too coincidental? But he didn’t interrupt Ron, instead asking, “What happened next?”

“First, tell me about the Basilisk,” Ron asked anxiously. “I heard Professor McGonagall said you rode Fang to attack the Basilisk—is that true?”

“False,” Silven said. “How could I possibly be a match for the Basilisk? It was Hagrid and Fang—they worked together to split the Basilisk into three pieces.”

It was truly three pieces—the left head had been bitten by the Basilisk, weak and only played a minor role.

“That’s good, that’s good,” Ron sighed deeply in relief.

“Now you can tell me—what happened after you found the Chamber?”

“It was Hermione,” Ron said. “She noticed Lockhart had been talking to a letter—and the letter responded to him, in a voice completely unfamiliar.”

“She also heard Lockhart and that person planning to open the Chamber and release its monster when Dumbledore left the school.”

“That makes sense. Only when Dumbledore was away could such a thing be done,” Silven nodded. “But how did you get into the bathroom?”

“It was still Lockhart,” Ron’s voice grew faint, as if he’d spoken too much. “We followed him to the second-floor bathroom and saw him slash his hand with a knife and smear his blood on the door.”

It seemed to be an ancient ritual. The voice in the letter said the magic sustaining the chamber was broken with a wizard’s blood. Then, countless colored lines appeared on the bathroom door, and soon a crack opened—just wide enough for Lockhart to slip through.

“It seems to be an ancient ritual. The voice in the letter said wizard’s blood breaks the magic sustaining the enchantment. Then colorful lines appeared on the bathroom door, and soon a gap opened—just wide enough for Lockhart to slip through.”

“But I think it wasn’t that simple,” Ron suddenly said with grave seriousness. “After that, Lockhart became extremely weak—he could barely hold a rooster with both hands…”

“Wait, what?” Silven blinked. “Lockhart was holding a rooster?”

“Yes. Ever since leaving his office, Lockhart had been carrying a rooster,” Ron blinked. “Didn’t I mention that?”

Doesn’t matter. Lockhart fell as soon as he entered the Chamber and crushed the rooster. Ron waved his hand and muttered under his breath, “I can’t fathom why he’d do that.”

“It doesn’t matter. Lockhart collapsed right after entering the Chamber and crushed the rooster,” Ron waved his hand, muttering softly. “I have no idea why he did that.”

Silven suspected he knew why Lockhart had brought a rooster into the Chamber.

Lockhart must have researched the Basilisk and knew well that a rooster’s crow was fatal to it—hence he brought it as a secret weapon.

No magic needed. All he had to do was make the rooster crow, and the Basilisk problem would vanish instantly.

The missing rooster from Hagrid’s wasn’t taken by a bloodsucker—it was stolen by Lockhart.

That idiot!

Silven gritted his teeth.

Because he stole one rooster, Hagrid thought the area unsafe and moved the other roosters and weasels elsewhere.

And Silven didn’t know where—so he searched for hours near the hut, even after Fang came out, still couldn’t find the rooster.

But then again, after being possessed by Tom Riddle’s soul, was the Basilisk still afraid of a rooster’s crow?

If it was, why would Riddle let Lockhart bring a rooster into the Chamber… oh right—the rooster ended up crushed by Lockhart himself.

Now that he thought about it, it was suspicious. Even if Lockhart was foolish, he wouldn’t be so careless as to lose track of a rooster.

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey arrived and handed Silven and Ron each a bottle of orange-red potion.

Silven recognized it—the Elixir of Vitality, used to restore strength and nutrition. He’d taken it before while holding mandrake leaves.

Alongside it was a bottle of bright blue potion—he didn’t know what it was, but when Madam Pomfrey handed it to him, he drank it.

It tasted pleasant, with a faint raspberry flavor.

But the next bottle, brown in color, looked far less friendly.

Fortunately, it was for Ron—not Silven.

Their conversation paused until Ron, frowning, forced down the brown potion. Only then did Madam Pomfrey take the empty bottle and leave again.

The two resumed their earlier topic.

After a long while, once the potion’s taste had faded from his mouth, Ron proudly recounted what had happened on the second floor.

“You’ll never guess how to open the Chamber’s entrance,” he said. “The moment we touched the faucet, four animals appeared before us—a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake. Hermione said it was Headmaster Dumbledore’s doing—these four creatures correspond exactly to Hogwarts’ four houses.”

“Harry faced the snake. He made a hissing sound—and suddenly a pipe opened.”

“Later, Harry said he’d only wanted to open the bathroom door to escape—but somehow, when he opened his mouth, he made that hissing sound.”

“Then Professor McGonagall told us—Harry is a Parselmouth. That hissing sound was exactly how to open the Chamber.”

Ron grew more animated, claiming he’d stayed behind to cover Harry and Hermione’s escape, which was why he was captured.

But knowing Ron, Silven suspected the story was heavily exaggerated—or rather, Ron had accidentally revealed himself, forcing Harry and Hermione to flee.

At that time, Riddle had likely already fused with the Basilisk. The process must have been unpleasant, so their making noise was understandable.

Then the Basilisk began chasing them—but because the bathroom door’s enchantment hadn’t fully dissolved, it couldn’t exit, forcing it to choose the pipes instead.

No wonder the Basilisk smashed through the entrance hall wall and encountered him and Hagrid… now that everything was connected, it all made perfect sense.

Silven had wanted to ask more, but when he turned, he saw Ron was already asleep, his head tilted awkwardly, as if still ready to keep talking.

He slept deeply, a faint smile on his lips, and even his tilted head didn’t seem to bother him.

At the same time, Silven felt a wave of drowsiness wash over him—his mind grew heavy, as if lying on a soft sofa.

This feeling… Silven realized what the bright blue potion was: Dreamless Sleep Draught. A gentler alternative to the Draught of Living Death, yet equally effective at inducing instant, peaceful sleep…

As soon as he thought this, Silven fell into deep slumber.

…

(End of Chapter)