Chapter 147: Another Ending

Despite his reluctance, Snape followed Dumbledore away.

Madam Pomfrey still would not allow Silven to leave.

At noon, Ron woke up; Harry and Hermione pleaded outside the door for a long time before being allowed in to visit.

From them, Silven learned they had each been awarded fifty points for foreseeing Lockhart’s plot and thwarting his scheme to unleash the Basilisk upon the castle.

But they received no special contribution award from the school.

Still, Harry and Ron were already very satisfied, their faces flushed with excitement.

Somehow, the Chamber of Secrets, the Basilisk, and Fluffy had spread throughout the school… the unrepaired hole in the entrance hall, the corroded grass of the Quidditch pitch, and the enormous footprints were the best proof.

The battle between Fluffy and the Basilisk—the legendary clash of magical creatures—had driven everyone mad, eager to know what had happened last night.

Harry and Hermione had said the same story so many times already, but every time they met a new group, they were asked again.

They came to the infirmary not only to visit Silven and Ron, but because it was quiet enough.

With Madam Pomfrey around, no one could chase after them to ask for details of last night.

But they hadn’t expected Silven to be equally curious about the affair, asking many questions about the Chamber during their conversation.

Yet since Silven was already in the know, the two had no reservations—they told him everything exactly as it had happened.

It was much as Ron had said: Harry had noticed Lockhart’s odd behavior, learned the Chamber’s location from the ghosts, and by chance opened the entrance, exposing Lockhart’s plot.

It sounded reasonable—last year, Harry and his friends had done the same: followed a professor, passed through trial after trial, and finally stopped Quirrell from stealing the Philosopher’s Stone.

But this time the difficulty had escalated: the Basilisk was not Quirrell, and it would not turn to stone just because Harry touched it. So they had to flee and seek a professor’s help.

But during this process, they happened to meet Silven and Hagrid returning from outside, and then everything that followed occurred.

Hagrid dragged away the Basilisk; Silven rode Fluffy to assist…

Harry shook his head vigorously; honestly, every time he recalled Silven riding Fluffy, he felt it was unreal—even now.

Perhaps their voices had been too loud; soon after, Madam Pomfrey came and drove them away.

…

The next day, Silven and Ron were finally allowed to leave the infirmary and returned to the castle.

But Ron was somewhat unhappy.

“If I’d stayed one more day, I wouldn’t have to take the exams,” he grumbled. “I should’ve asked Fred for a Skiving Snackbox earlier—that would’ve kept me here till tomorrow.”

Silven was skeptical of his words.

Not because he doubted the Snackbox’s effect—Fred and George had an excellent reputation; their Skiving Snackboxes had never been discovered by professors, largely because they were so convincing, even Madam Pomfrey couldn’t spot anything wrong.

But Ron probably couldn’t afford one.

Fred wouldn’t give his own brother a discount; not overcharging him was already a sign of good mood.

When the two returned to the Great Hall, they instantly became the center of attention.

Ron was thrilled—until the owls brought today’s latest issue of the Daily Prophet.

“Look! Professor Lockhart’s a fraud!”

Someone shouted, instantly drawing everyone’s attention; all eyes turned to the newspaper. Those without subscriptions gathered around others to read.

Hermione had subscribed; Harry and Ron leaned in on either side and began reading aloud.

{According to insiders, Gilderoy Lockhart’s books are not his own experiences, but shamelessly stolen from others’ memories.}

{The wizard Grant Fiddler has now recovered his deleted memories under treatment at St. Mungo’s and has exposed Gilderoy Lockhart’s shameless deception.}

Below was a photograph of an old wizard with a large nose, gesturing excitedly.

“He asked me how I drove away the werewolf, claiming he needed the story for the Daily Prophet…”

{We later found other wizards who had lost their memories—every feat Lockhart claimed to have accomplished was stolen from someone else!}

Today’s paper unusually featured seven photographs of different wizards, each accompanied by their deeds…

The big-nosed wizard had driven away a werewolf from a village.

A hunchbacked witch had banished the Wailing Widow of Warrington.

A goblin-blooded wizard had defeated a vicious vampire…

…

Everything in those books had a traceable origin—but none of it had anything to do with Gilderoy Lockhart.

Instantly, the Great Hall buzzed with murmurs.

“I told you he was a fraud—you wouldn’t believe me,” Ron said smugly, glancing at Hermione.

Hermione said nothing; she had indeed not believed him before, but during her investigation of Lockhart, she had already uncovered the truth.

Thus, the article did not shock her—she merely felt Lockhart had been even more despicable than she imagined.

So many books—all stolen.

Lockhart’s scandal instantly overshadowed everyone’s curiosity about the Basilisk and Fluffy.

The hole in the entrance hall was quickly repaired; professors even renovated the pipes to prevent similar incidents.

The corroded grass on the Quidditch pitch was replaced; the depressions left by Fluffy’s footsteps were filled in—everything seemed as if nothing had ever happened.

With exams approaching, people soon stopped paying attention to the Basilisk, which existed only in whispered tales.

The matter was resolved… perhaps.

Silven still had many questions—for instance, how Harry had heard Lockhart speaking inside his office.

And ghosts generally disliked chatting in front of the living; they would never reveal a secret as critical as the Chamber’s entrance.

How could it be that Nearly Headless Nick and the Fat Friar—of all people—suddenly broke their usual silence and discussed it, and Harry just happened to overhear?

And what about Ron’s claim that Dumbledore had left a protective charm on the faucet at the entrance? Four ordinary animals? What kind of protection was that? And among those four animals, there just happened to be a snake—causing Harry to unconsciously speak Parseltongue.

Then there was Dumbledore’s sudden departure from the castle based on nothing but a letter. The Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the International Confederation of Wizards, the greatest living White Wizard—could he really be so easily deceived?

When Riddle broke the charm on the door, didn’t he feel anything at all?

And finally—Fawkes the phoenix…

Silven cut himself a piece of roasted potato and looked up at Harry, who was beside him, guessing exam questions with Ron.

He suddenly remembered something.

What if he hadn’t gone to Hagrid, and the two hadn’t appeared in the castle at that moment—what would have happened?

Harry and Hermione would have been cornered by the Basilisk in the entrance hall; they would have kept fleeing, the Basilisk chasing them… perhaps inside the castle, perhaps outside.

At some point, they would have split—one luring the Basilisk, the other seeking a professor’s help.

Harry would almost certainly have been the one to draw the Basilisk’s attention; of course, he couldn’t outrun it—he would eventually be caught.

At that moment, Fawkes might have arrived with the Sorting Hat, helping eliminate the Basilisk’s greatest threat… the phoenix was immune to the Basilisk’s gaze.

Thinking of this, all the previous mysteries seemed to unravel at once.

Dumbledore must have intended to use this opportunity to give Harry some experience—he was still impulsive and reckless, nothing like someone who could face Voldemort directly.

Of course, this was only Silven’s speculation.

As for the truth—it didn’t matter… Silven chose to trust Headmaster Dumbledore unconditionally; he was simply too old, easily deceived by villains… just like he had forgotten he still had a Shifting Lizard-skin pouch.

Of course, Snape knew too—he’d just forgotten for a moment.

But Dumbledore had remembered; Silven noticed him glancing at his sleeve in the infirmary.

That was where he had stuck the Shifting Lizard-skin pouch.

Yet Dumbledore said nothing, offered no reminder to Snape.

Silven brushed his sleeve—two fangs, eight inches long, slightly curved like daggers, appeared in his hand.

The Basilisk’s fangs—the two largest from the upper jaw; one from the lower jaw had been shattered, he didn’t know if it mattered.

Another had been broken by Hagrid and nailed to a painting in the entrance hall; when Silven returned later, only a hole remained—it must have been taken away by a professor.

He had also picked up another good item, but it was hard to bring out.

…

(End of Chapter)