The new recipes developed by Ted and the house-elves in the Hogwarts kitchens had quickly become the talk of the school.
Everyone—from first-years to professors—sang their praises.
Even Dumbledore made a point to stand up at the end of the feast, raising his goblet in Ted's direction.
"A special thanks to young Ted and our devoted house-elves," he announced, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. "They've brought fresh magic to our meals."
In a land not known for its cuisine, this was no small feat.
Perhaps a hundred years from now, these very dishes would still grace the long tables of the Great Hall.
The students, happily stuffed, clapped enthusiastically.
Even the Slytherins offered their grudging applause—because if nothing else, the food was really that good.
It also became clear that Ted wasn't just making things up when he talked about good food. He knew what he was doing.
The banquet wound down, desserts vanished, and bellies groaned under the weight of satisfaction.
Jerry stared down at his empty plate and frowned. "Where's my last wedge of cheese? That big one! It was right here!"
Ron, cheeks stuffed like a Niffler's pouch, mumbled through mouthfuls, "Wha? Dunno. Didn't see it. Nope."
Jerry narrowed his eyes, nose twitching like a Growlithe picking up a scent. "Don't lie to me, Weasley. I smell it on you! Red-eye activated—Ron dies!"
Ron, already halfway out of his seat, shouted in panic, "Brother Jerry, no!"
But if you eat Jerry's last piece of cheese, well, there's no escaping the consequences~
Eventually, Jerry calmed down enough to deliver a lecture. "Ron, my mum always says—when you're hungry, there's only one problem. But when you're full? There are countless. Pace yourself."
Ron, still rubbing his belly, nodded solemnly. He didn't entirely get it, but it felt true.
...
The feast ended and the castle's corridors filled with groaning, waddling students. Most could barely walk, let alone talk.
As usual, houses paired off for the walk back to their dormitories.
Ravenclaw and Gryffindor shared the same route up to the third-floor bridge corridor.
Ted and his friends made their way toward Ravenclaw Tower.
Just as the two groups were about to split, a shout came from up ahead.
Gasps rang out as they saw what had caused the commotion.
Hanging upside down from a torch bracket in the second-floor corridor, just outside the abandoned girls' lavatory, was a stiff and frozen Mrs. Norris.
Beneath her, scrawled in a chilling red script across the wall, were the words:
[Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets—has been opened!]
Ted pushed forward, squinting at the wall.
That writing—it was different from the book he remembered.
"Is it a shift in the timeline?" he murmured. "Or... am I the butterfly that caused the ripple?"
Suddenly, a familiar chime echoed in his mind:
-------------------------
Ding~ Quest triggered:
[Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets - Red Tier]
For a thousand years, Hogwarts has been haunted by a terrible legend—the monster within the Chamber. Find it. Destroy it. Bring peace to the school.
Objective: Locate and defeat the creature inside the Slytherin Chamber. Reward: 1500 EXP, Random Card Drop.
-------------------------
"A red-tier mission? Same difficulty as the Seven Trials last year," Ted thought. "But still below the [Ravenclaw's Chamber - Purple]... Interesting."
Around him, the students whispered anxiously, stunned by the sight before them.
Right on cue, Filch's gravelly voice echoed down the corridor. "What's all this?! What are you lot doing here?! Move along—WHO DARES TO... ah—AHHHHHH!!"
His cry turned into a wail as he laid eyes on his beloved Mrs. Norris.
Filch stumbled toward her, arms open, but hesitated—too afraid to touch her frozen form. His hands trembled, grief and rage twisting his face.
Many students looked away. Even the bravest witches and wizards couldn't bear to see the old caretaker like this.
Suddenly, Filch turned sharply, eyes blazing with accusation.
"You!" he screeched, pointing at Ted. "It was you! You've always wanted to take her from me! And now—now you've done this! Poisoned her! Give her back, you monster!"
He lunged toward Ted.
Neville stepped forward to intervene, fists clenched.
But Ted raised a single finger—and a shimmer of frost spread over Filch's hands.
He recoiled instantly, eyes wide.
Ted's voice was calm but firm. "Filch, I would never harm Mrs. Norris. I never tried to take her from you, and I don't intend to. You've cared for her for years. That bond is sacred."
Filch's voice broke. "You swear? But... she's... she's been..."
Ted gently cut in, "She's not dead."
The caretaker froze. "Not dead? Truly? She's not...?"
His lip quivered, and the hope in his eyes made Ted's chest tighten.
Just then, the crowd parted as Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore arrived.
"Headmaster!" Filch cried out, rushing toward the elderly wizard. "Please—you've got to help her! Please look at Mrs. Norris!"
Dumbledore's face, ever calm, took in the scene. The students, the writing, and the cat.
He walked forward, bent to examine Mrs. Norris, and silently studied her with eyes that missed nothing.
Filch, still shaken, stumbled behind the group as they made their way down the corridor. He looked lost and confused, his voice barely above a whisper. "Headmaster, Ted said... he said she's not dead, right?"
Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Yes, Argus. She's still alive."
"Thank Merlin... but why does she look like this? What's happened to her?"
Dumbledore's expression darkened slightly. "It seems to be some kind of curse," he said, turning to Ted. His voice softened. "How were you able to tell she was still alive?"
Ted met Dumbledore's gaze, his Occlumency shields activating on instinct, masking his thoughts like a veil of shadow.
"Professor, you might recall I've dabbled in a bit of Ravenclaw's more arcane research," Ted said carefully. "I've developed a skill—it's faint, but it lets me sense lingering consciousness. Even though Mrs. Norris looks petrified, her thoughts... they're still there. Weak, but present."
Dumbledore's eyes, deep and ageless, searched Ted's for a long moment before he finally nodded. "Indeed... Very well. Students, please return to your dormitories and rest."
With that, he motioned for the professors to follow him. They made their way to the nearest available office—Lockhart's classroom.
When Dumbledore knocked, the door opened to reveal Lockhart in his usual flamboyant style—violet pajamas, a silk mask over his face, and his hair somehow still perfectly styled.
Seeing the crowd at his door, he grinned. "Ah! A pajama party? Fantastic! I throw the best ones—just let me grab my hot cocoa mix!"
Everyone stared.
A pajama party? Really?
Ted and the others didn't know exactly what went down inside Lockhart's office, but word spread that Mandrake Restorative Draught could cure Mrs. Norris.
Lockhart, of course, boasted he could brew it in his sleep. In truth, it was the first time he'd even heard of it.
He offered to help Professor Sprout tend to the Mandrakes.
Sprout replied with a raised brow, "There are many dangerous magical plants in the greenhouses right now. If you get eaten, trampled, or turned to mulch... well, don't say I didn't warn you."
Lockhart quickly backpedaled.
It was Snape who finally brought the conversation back to the more pressing issue.
"We cannot ignore the message on the wall," he said quietly. "If this is indeed the Chamber of Secrets... we must act. Swiftly."
Lockhart, only half understanding but sensing an opportunity, perked up with glee.
"Yes, yes! Quite right!"
After two months of teaching, he had come to deeply regret his decision to take the post. What he'd hoped would be a fame-boosting gig had turned into a daily embarrassment. But this—this was something he could use.
In his mind, he was already outlining a new book: "Dealing with the Monster in the Chamber of Secrets". It would be a bestseller.
...
Back in the Gryffindor dormitory, Ron sat hunched over on his bed, looking slightly green.
Jerry gave him a hearty slap on the back—so hard Ron nearly coughed up the evening's chicken legs and Kung Pao Chicken.
"We Rat Ears have a saying," Jerry announced proudly, "happy farts don't come from depressed asses. Cheer up, mate!"
Neville scratched his cheek awkwardly. "You always say stuff that... makes sense, Jerry. It's just that it sounds a bit weird."
Meanwhile, Hermione turned to Ted, her brow furrowed with concern. "Ted, do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"
Ted opened his mouth to deflect, but before he could say anything, Hermione stepped closer, placed her hands on both sides of his face, and stared intently into his eyes.
"Ted. Do you really know what the Chamber of Secrets is?"
Ted nearly choked. The mentalist in him felt her probing presence like a soft breeze brushing against a sealed window.
He coughed and looked away. "Hermione... do you remember what happened to me last Christmas?"
Her eyes widened in sudden realization. "You mean... Ravenclaw's Chamber of Secrets?"
Ted nodded. "Exactly. I found notes in Rowena Ravenclaw's old diary. She mentioned it."
Hermione leaned in, whispering. "What did it say?"
Ted smiled faintly. "Apparently, Slytherin built a secret chamber underground to train his favorite students in secret arts. Gryffindor made one too—to hide things he considered too dangerous. Ravenclaw found them both ridiculous. She wrote: 'Those two childish men! Fine. I'll build one too... but I'll make mine better.'"
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Word count: 1549
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