Chapter 56: The Hound of Tindalos

The next morning, Neville heard about Harry’s experience the night before and his expression was grim. He told Harry that after returning from the Dread Night banquet, he had been summoned to Dumbledore’s office to assist with the investigation, and after it ended, he went straight back to bed—he had never been near that so-called girls’ bathroom.

What troubled him more was the phrase “my grandmother once said” spoken by the man impersonating Neville—his grandmother had indeed said those words, but Neville had never told anyone else about them. Everything about this was suspicious, leaving him utterly baffled.

Ron also noticed something odd about Neville the night before: his height. Normally, Ron and Neville were about the same height, both slightly taller than Harry. The night before, while hiding under the Invisibility Cloak, he had crouched down and hadn’t realized the discrepancy. But when he crouched again to compare Neville now, he saw that the Neville from last night was about half a head taller than the Neville standing before him.

Harry knew a little about height discrepancies. If a tall person took Polyjuice Potion to transform into someone short, the resulting form would vary slightly depending on the potion’s quality. Thus, they deduced the person they encountered the night before might be an adult who had taken Polyjuice Potion.

As they spoke, Neville seemed to recall something. He fell silent for a moment, then, under Harry and Ron’s pressing questions, said: “I’ve thought of the best possibility—that the person last night might have been my tutor, Li Ao. He heard there was danger at the school and came to investigate secretly for me. It’s possible.”

“He transformed into your likeness, appeared near the crime scene, and deliberately spoke to your friends—it doesn’t seem like a kind act,” Harry said, frowning.

“But I think his actions make sense,” Neville said. “If I had gone to investigate and stumbled upon you two making Moaning Myrtle cry, I’d have done the same. He just imitated me perfectly—I couldn’t find a single flaw.”

“An adult who knows Neville well—and knows his grandmother’s catchphrase,” Ron counted off on his fingers. “The only person who fits both criteria is your tutor, right?”

“Not necessarily…” Neville’s expression turned suddenly serious. “It could be Legilimency.”

He glanced at Ron again, then frowned and fell silent.

Harry felt the atmosphere had grown heavy. He broke the silence: “Either way, we can’t draw many conclusions now—we can only stay alert.”

“True,” Ron said. “Are you training today? Let’s go to the pitch.”

Harry sighed. “According to Ravenclaw’s team, Sunday is Halloween, so they’re not training. But according to Wood, Sunday just happens to be Halloween—and they’re still training, and the pitch is empty, so we’re training this afternoon too.”

“Then let’s go,” Ron grabbed his coat. “Let’s practice swordplay, Neville?”

“Alright,” Neville said. Though he was still troubled by what he’d heard, he knew overthinking wouldn’t help—he could only stay alert and take things one step at a time.

The three reached the pitch. Harry saw the Gryffindor players already in position, listening to Wood’s tactics. He was about to join them when Neville suddenly tapped his shoulder.

“Harry, look over there,” Neville said. “Did you see a black dog?”

Harry looked in the direction he pointed—nothing was there. His first thought was that Neville might have mistaken something, but given Neville’s usual nature, that was unlikely.

“I didn’t see anything,” he said. “Did you? Could it be only you can see it?”

“Zhang Qiu saw one too,” Ron said. “She saw a black dog in almost the same spot last time.”

“Really?” Neville’s tone was hesitant. “That’s strange.”

“She’s probably in the library,” Harry said. “Why don’t you go ask her? I’ll head to training.”

That night, when Harry returned to the dorm, Ron and Neville were playing wizard’s chess. Their expressions suggested they were in good spirits.

“Well?” he asked. “Did you go to ask Zhang Qiu about the black dog?”

“We did,” Neville said flatly. “She said she’ll write to her Master and we don’t need to worry for now.”

“I’ve heard her Master is a great wizard, on par with Dumbledore,” Harry said.

In Hogwarts, the name Dumbledore carried an almost magical weight—and by association, Zhang Qiu’s Master gained similar prestige. With that, the three young wizards completely dismissed the ominous black dog and turned their attention back to the attack on Mrs. Norris.

On Wednesday, as Harry once again drifted off during Professor Binns’ History of Magic class, he was jolted awake by a crisp female voice.

“Professor, have you ever heard of the Chamber of Secrets?” Harry looked closely—it was Hermione.

“My lectures cover only verified events, not folk tales…” Professor Binns droned in his cold, slow tone, but the students’ eager expressions surprised him. Rarely did this lifeless ghost encounter such interest—he relented. “Though it seems you truly wish to hear it. Very well, I’ll tell you.”

“You all know our school was founded by four individuals, whose names became the four Houses. In the school’s early days, they were close—but over time, Slytherin grew dissatisfied with the other founders due to differences in teaching philosophy.”

“After one heated argument, Slytherin decided to leave the school. But before he went, he built a secret chamber. According to legend, this chamber will reopen only when a Heir of Slytherin appears, and the horror within will purge the school of all who are unworthy to study magic.”

After he finished, the classroom fell briefly silent—then Hermione pressed: “What do you mean by ‘unworthy to study magic’?”

“I’d rather not say, child,” Professor Binns looked at her with pity. “Slytherin believed only children of wizarding families deserved to learn magic. He longed to purge all Muggle-borns.”

Hermione bit her lip and whispered “Thank you,” then sat down in silence.

Harry felt sympathy for Hermione. Though he knew blood purity was nonsense and always treated Muggle-borns equally, the world Potter had seen made it hard for him to truly empathize with her. Even when he and Ron supported Hannah in Neville’s emotional moments, Hermione might have interpreted it as blood prejudice—even if they meant no such thing.

Thanks to Hermione’s bold question, the story of the Chamber spread rapidly. In truth, even without public questioning, curious young wizards would have uncovered the truth eventually. Muggle-born students grew fearful; pure-blood and half-blood wizards relaxed—but some still worried for their Muggle-born friends.

What caught Harry’s attention was this: the Chamber’s purpose was to purge Muggle-borns, and at the crime scene, when a boy heard the word “Heir,” he shouted that his ancestors had been pure-blood wizards for nine generations. Harry confirmed it—Voldemort also despised Muggle-borns intensely. In other words, whether real or not, the Chamber’s opening was tied to Voldemort’s schemes.

As the entire school buzzed with speculation about the Chamber, Zhang Qiu’s Master replied. Harry saw the original letter—it contained only a dozen square characters. Beautiful to look at, utterly incomprehensible.

Zhang Qiu said the letter’s gist was that her Master called the invisible black dog a Hound of Tindalos—it did indeed signify ill fortune, and carelessness could cost one’s life. More details were unsuitable to tell her now, but as long as she lived normally and didn’t stir up trouble, she wouldn’t be in great danger.

Harry listened, utterly confused, stared at the Chinese letter for a long time, then asked: “Do people in your country really speak like this? It sounds like he said nothing at all.”

“Those who understand, understand,” Zhang Qiu said. “Those who don’t—I can’t explain further. This matter is too vast. Everything you can find is what you’re allowed to find. What I can’t tell you, I can’t tell you. Just be cautious, follow school rules, study hard, don’t do what you shouldn’t—and if you do that, nothing bad will happen.”

Harry thought he understood—but then again, he didn’t. He repeated her words to Neville, who wore the same confused expression.

“I think I get it a little,” Neville concluded. “Maybe the black dog is warning us—not to keep investigating?”

The moment he said it, Harry’s Gryffindor spirit flared. He snapped: “The black dog must be part of the Heir’s scheme—we won’t be afraid. We’ll keep investigating until we expose his plot!”

“Exactly,” Neville said. “Zhang Qiu might be afraid, but as the Chosen One, we won’t fear. No matter what terror the Hound of Tindalos represents, I’ll face it head-on!”

“No matter what warnings come,” Harry declared firmly, “our pursuit of truth will never retreat!”

The next day, he was severely injured by a rogue Bludger and had to be admitted to the school infirmary.