Chapter 309: The Story of the Chamber

He cleared his throat, letting out a soft sound like a piece of chalk snapping, and continued:

“It was in October of that year that a specialized team of wizards from Sardinia—”

He stumbled to a halt. Hermione raised her hand again, waving it in the air.

“Miss Granger?”

“May I ask, sir, aren’t legends always based on some kernel of truth?”

Professor Binns stared at her, utterly astonished.

“Well,”

Professor Binns said slowly,

“yes, I suppose you could put it that way.”

He stared hard at Hermione, as if he had never properly examined a student before,

“but the legend you refer to is an extremely sensational, even absurd tale…”

Now, the entire class was hanging on every word Professor Binns spoke.

His clouded eyes surveyed them, seeing every face turned toward him.

Harry could tell that this unusual intensity of interest was making Professor Binns deeply uncomfortable.

“Oh, very well,”

he said slowly,

“let me think… the Chamber… you all surely know that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago—exact date uncertain—by the four greatest wizards of the age.

The four houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin.

Together they built this castle, far from the watchful eyes of Muggles, for in that era, magic was feared and wizards suffered great persecution.”

Professor Binns’s words made everyone lean forward.

“At first, they were good friends, working toward the same goal.

They labored in harmony, searching far and wide for young witches and wizards showing signs of magic, bringing them to the castle for proper training.

But gradually, differences arose between them.

The rift between Slytherin and the others widened. Slytherin wanted Hogwarts to be more selective in admitting students. He believed magical education should be reserved solely for pure-blood families. He refused to accept Muggle-born children, considering them unreliable.

After some time, Slytherin and Gryffindor quarreled bitterly over this issue, and Slytherin left the school.”

Professor Binns paused again, pursing his lips like a wrinkled old turtle,

“Reliable historical records tell us no more.”

“And the Chamber, Professor?”

Hermione felt they were nearing the truth and asked quickly.

“The Chamber is precisely the kind of bizarre legend that obscures the true facts. The story claims that Slytherin built a secret chamber within the castle, unknown to the other founders.

According to this legend, Slytherin sealed the Chamber so that no one could open it until his true heir arrived at the school.

Only that heir could unlock the Chamber and release the horror within, to purify the school by cleansing it of all who were unworthy of magic.”

The tale ended.

The class fell silent—not the usual drowsy, sleepy silence of Professor Binns’s lessons.

“I see…”

Hermione’s face turned pale; everything connected.

The man named Tom Riddle was Slytherin’s heir, and he had wanted to release the monster—but Wizard Sean had stopped him.

But who was Tom Riddle?

“The diary, Hermione, the diary.”

Harry was no better off.

Hogwarts had hidden such a monster—if not for Wizard Sean’s solitary nightly battles, would the Basilisk have been unleashed already?

“Let me tell you, the thing doesn’t exist.”

Professor Binns was tidying his notes, saying,

“There is no Chamber, and no monster.”

…

After class.

On the way to the Hope Hut.

Ron trembled as he chattered on:

“I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old lunatic.

But I didn’t know he came up with this pure-blood nonsense. I wouldn’t enter his house even if you paid me in gold.

To be honest, if the Sorting Hat had put me in Slytherin, I’d have turned right around and taken the train home…”

Harry believed he wouldn’t dare—Mrs. Weasley would almost certainly drag him back.

But he knew Ron held no prejudice against Muggle-born wizards.

“We have to find Ginny.”

Hermione fixed them with her gaze,

“And as for the Basilisk’s fang, Harry—look there…”

Harry turned his head and saw, resting calmly on Wizard Sean’s desk, a massive tooth.

“He’s terrifyingly strong… I’d bet if Slytherin the old lunatic were alive today, he’d change his mind.

By the time he reached that age, Wizard Sean could take on ten of him…”

Ron was already imagining what had happened in the Chamber,

“I keep feeling something’s missing… where’s Wizard Sean?”

Hermione and Harry both stood up.

At this hour, Wizard Sean should have been reading in the Hope Hut.

Even at breakfast—he’d never been absent.

As they rushed toward the girls’ second-floor bathroom, they spotted Ginny.

“Ginny, why are you here?”

Ron pretended to talk to Ginny, while Hermione’s eyes instantly locked onto the old book that didn’t belong among the new ones.

“Harry, look at that…”

Hermione said.

Harry followed her gaze, crept closer to Ginny, and quietly slipped the old book into his pocket.

The process went surprisingly smoothly.

As if the book had wanted to reach his hands.

Harry immediately recognized it as a diary; the faded date on the cover showed it was fifty years old.

He flipped it open eagerly—on the first page, only one name was legible, written in blurred ink: T.M. Riddle.

“…Ah, yes, goodbye.”

Ron was nudged, ended the conversation quickly, and the three hurried away.

But the moment they saw the diary, Ron shouted:

“I remember! I know that name… Riddle received the Special Contribution to Hogwarts Award fifty years ago.”

“Ron, we can deal with the rest later.”

Harry gripped the fang and raised it to stab.

“Wait, Harry—we haven’t found Wizard Sean. It might be useful.”

Hermione stopped Harry.

They had now reached the entrance to the girls’ second-floor bathroom.

Peeves had wreaked havoc there recently, and no one had dared enter for a long time.

As soon as they slipped inside, Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth.

Harry and Ron could see tears welling instantly in her eyes.

Then they spotted the petrified Alchemical Toad in the sink.