Chapter 308: Mystery

Harry stumbled into a strange place.

Everything around him was a blinding white, with occasional bizarre mists that kept trying to seep into his head.

He dodged one mist cluster after another—his instinct told him these were no ordinary things.

He kept avoiding them, walking, until he stood before a massive, dilapidated house.

There, a black cat with ink-black fur sat.

Harry had never had such a vivid dream until the black cat appeared, and only then did he realize this wasn’t real.

After all, this was a cat that existed only in the legends sung by the Castle Cat Club—he’d never seen one himself.

“Mr. Castle Cat?”

Harry tried to greet it, when a tendril of mist slipped into his head.

His vision blurred instantly… he saw a basilisk, vast as the sky, swallowing Ron whole. At the basilisk’s feet lay petrified Wizard Sean and the broken Sword of Gryffindor… and after killing Ron, the giant basilisk turned its gaze toward him—he saw its yellow eyes, and then… then…

“Wake from your fear, Harry.”

A familiar voice spoke.

“Ah—”

Harry’s face was deathly pale, as if pulled from water, drenched in sweat, gasping for breath.

He stared, shaken, at the black cat before him—it lifted its paw, shifting its head aside, and the mist drifted cleanly out of his skull.

“Thank you, Mr. Castle Cat… do you know me? No, I mean—do you know where the basilisk came from?”

Driven by an inexplicable urge, Harry asked the question he most wanted answered.

“It was bred by Slytherin, and has dwelled in the Chamber for over a thousand years… the entrance lies in the second-floor girls’ bathroom.”

The black cat’s emerald eyes fixed on him; it seemed pleased with his question.

Harry trembled all over, thrilled—he had stumbled into something extraordinary.

The legend of the Castle Cat was true; it guarded the entire castle… perhaps it was the very consciousness of Hogwarts.

Think about it—in the magical world, owls get angry, enchanted cars get angry, mandrakes get angry, even curtains and statues do.

They all seem to possess their own awareness—so why not Hogwarts itself?

“May I ask you one more thing…”

Harry hesitated, recalling what he’d read:

【The Parseltongue can induce the basilisk into deep sleep, halting its growth and placing it in a state akin to death…】

It must have been Parseltongue that put the basilisk to sleep—but who woke it?

And what did the one who woke it intend to do?

Could it really be Lockhart…

“Mr. Castle Cat, who woke the basilisk? Lately, my companions have been fighting it in deadly danger—how can I help?”

Harry’s face was pleading.

The black cat tilted its head slightly.

Who was he talking about? Had someone else been in the Chamber these days?

Not him…

“Tom Riddle, Harry. You must take Tom Riddle’s diary from Ginny’s possession and destroy it immediately with the basilisk’s fang.”

The black cat said.

“Who is Tom Riddle? What is a diary? And where do I find the basilisk’s fang?”

Harry asked urgently.

But the black cat merely lifted its head—the mist rose.

This dream was brief, as if the mist that slipped into Harry’s head had caused it.

But Wizard Sean didn’t mind much; once the diary was identified, the matter was settled.

…

Night blanketed all of Hogwarts when sudden movement erupted in the second-floor girls’ bathroom.

It looked like… something was crawling out.

In the dim light, it was a long creature, its eyes shut, wearing comical glasses.

Before the basilisk closed its eyes, the alchemical toad without its glasses had already been petrified, lying in the bathroom sink.

Moments later, the basilisk vanished abruptly.

The Forbidden Forest.

Beneath the dense canopy lay rows of bottles and jars; with potion magic, Wizard Sean could keep the basilisk asleep in the forest for a full week.

Now it slept soundly—Wizard Sean tapped his wand, and soil surged upward, burying the creature, especially its eyes, wrapped in three layers of earth.

Bai Yi’s transfigured rooster stood atop its head, strutting proudly, watching every ancient tree.

Wizard Sean was there too, holding a plan map, waiting for Harry to appear in the Chamber.

He, meanwhile, needed to ensure the basilisk remained undisturbed.

Hogwarts awoke slowly with the cry of a bird.

The Great Hall.

Everyone was discussing the upcoming Halloween; during the holiday, third-years and above could visit Hogsmeade on the Saturday before the break.

But the atmosphere among Harry and his friends was the opposite.

“You’re saying you dreamed of the Castle Cat, which told you the basilisk is in the Chamber, controlled by someone named ‘Tom Riddle,’ and you need the basilisk’s fang to destroy a diary?”

Ron swallowed hard and asked.

“That’s right.”

Only after speaking did Harry realize how unbelievable it sounded.

“I’ve never heard of such magic—dream magic… first Ginny, now you…”

Hermione was deeply curious but puzzled—so the dream cat wasn’t Wizard Sean?

“Does anyone know why Tom wants to control the basilisk?”

Ron froze, his hand gripping his History of Magic homework—a three-foot-long essay on “Medieval European Wizarding Gatherings.”

The bell rang.

Today, as always, the History of Magic class was dull.

Professor Binns opened his notes and droned on in a dry, monotonous voice, like an ancient vacuum cleaner; soon the whole class drifted into drowsiness, occasionally snapping awake just long enough to copy a name or date before sinking back into half-sleep.

After half an hour, something unprecedented happened.

Hermione raised her hand. Professor Binns, mid-droning about the 1289 International Wizarding Congress, looked up, visibly startled.

“You are—”

“I’m Granger, Professor. Could you tell us what the Chamber is?”

Hermione spoke clearly.

“What is the Chamber?”

Dean, who had been gaping blankly out the window, suddenly snapped awake;

“Where did Miss Know-It-All pick up such advanced knowledge?”

Ernie lifted his head from his arms.

Professor Binns blinked.

“This is a class on magical history,”

he said in his dry, wheezing voice,

“I teach facts, Miss Granger—not myths and legends.”