Chapter 165. The Basilisk... Where Is It?
"Speak to me, Slytherin—greatest of the four founders of Hogwarts."
Harry, though a little nervous, forced himself to stay calm and gave the command smoothly in Parseltongue.
The instant the command fell, the statue of Slytherin made a strange sound and began to shift.
Its features started to contort, the mouth began to open, and at last it became a black hole.
"Close your eyes!" Dumbledore's voice echoed through the vast space.
Almost by instinct, everyone obeyed at once—even Wesson was no exception.
At the same time, the Devil's Snare's tendrils crept towards Slytherin's statue, ready to subdue the enemy about to emerge, while Fawkes gathered himself in midair, talons bared.
For a moment, the Chamber fell deathly silent; the air was thick with pressure, as if time had frozen.
Yet nothing happened.
Only when Fawkes let out a cry did everyone open their eyes.
Beyond the gaping mouth of the statue lay only emptiness; the expected basilisk did not appear.
Nothing at all—the basilisk wasn't here.
Professor McGonagall realised something and suddenly said, "Could it be… the basilisk is still inside Hogwarts Castle?"
Wesson's eyes turned razor-sharp, and the Devil's Snare's vines retreated beneath his robes like a tide.
He realised he had fallen into a trap of thought—the basilisk wasn't necessarily in the Chamber. Perhaps it was hiding in one of Hogwarts' pipes right now.
Which meant the students of Hogwarts were currently under threat from the basilisk.
"Let's go back," Dumbledore said gravely, having clearly sensed that something was wrong. "Inform the professors to patrol the castle. If anything seems amiss, notify me at once. As for the Chamber, Fawkes will remain here the whole time."
"What about the students?" Professor McGonagall's face had gone a little pale. "We should evacuate them immediately!"
"No, there's no need." Dumbledore shook his head. "The students will be fine. Trust me."
Back at the castle, Wesson moved without stopping, leading the Devil's Snare on patrol in search of any trace of the basilisk.
Several professors, under Dumbledore's orders, also formed groups to sweep through Hogwarts in hopes of finding it.
Harry, meanwhile, returned to the common room in worry and told Ron and Hermione what he'd run into that morning.
"As it turns out, Lockhart's nothing like what he writes in his books," Ron shrugged. "Otherwise he wouldn't be—"
"That's not the main issue!" Hermione cut Ron off, speaking gravely. "A basilisk is roaming the castle. We're in danger. They should order a temporary shutdown of the school and get the students away—until they find the basilisk!"
"Even Dumbledore can't just shut the school down," Ron said around a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean he'd popped into his mouth. "Might take a unanimous vote from the Board of Governors."
"That still doesn't—"
"Professor Dumbledore must have a plan," Harry said suddenly. "We'll be all right."
"All right," Hermione sighed. "I'm not leaving the common room today. I don't fancy turning a corner and ending up a block of stone."
Night fell.
Hogwarts remained calm. No new Petrification, and no sign of the basilisk.
Though Lockhart had been petrified, for most students it was as if nothing much had changed that day.
They went on doing what they were supposed to do.
Only, they now frequently encountered professors with grim faces in the corridors.
That evening, Wesson went to the headmaster's office.
"Then I'll trouble you with it, Professor Wesson," Dumbledore said, handing Wesson a timetable—just prepared by Professor McGonagall.
Yes: because Lockhart had been petrified, Wesson was once again forced to take on Defence Against the Dark Arts as a substitute.
Oh, and Snape was no exception.
Wesson would handle the lower years; Snape, the upper years—the same as last year.
After a glance at the timetable in his hand, Wesson nodded and brought the topic back to that morning. "Professor, about the basilisk—what do you intend to do?"
Dumbledore glanced at Wesson and shook his head lightly. "For now, it can't be found. But don't worry—Fawkes is keeping watch on the entrance to the Chamber."
Wesson shrugged. For the moment, that was all they could do.
If the basilisk never returned to the Chamber, they had no particularly good method.
He couldn't exactly go crawling through those pipes to look for it.
Never mind how many pipes Hogwarts had—unless he turned himself into a snake, he wouldn't be able to move smoothly inside them.
After leaving the headmaster's office, Wesson returned to his own, sat down in his chair, and let out a slow sigh.
Lockhart petrified, the basilisk missing…
Things were getting more and more tangled.
Even he no longer knew how to find the person who had set the basilisk loose.
He'd suspected Lockhart before, but now Lockhart had also turned to stone…
Still, if even Dumbledore wasn't in a hurry, there was no use in his fretting.
Wesson very much wanted to restore the petrified Lockhart at once—perhaps he could get something useful out of him.
Unfortunately, the mature Mandrake he'd had before had already been used up.
The one closest to maturity now would still need some time. It wouldn't be ready until after Christmas at the earliest.
The day after Lockhart's Petrification, students were astonished to discover that their Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had once again become Wesson.
Surprised, yes, but it wasn't the first time—last year had been the same.
In fact, it was a good thing.
They'd been tormented quite enough by Lockhart's theatrical performance "lessons."
Given the chance at proper Defence Against the Dark Arts, who would want to act in those unbearably awkward stage plays?
Compared to Lockhart, they much preferred actually learning.
Just as everyone was wondering where Lockhart had gone, a few sniffling Gryffindor students discovered him lying petrified on a bed in the hospital wing.
The news spread through Hogwarts like wildfire.
Students began to speculate about what had happened to Lockhart.
Some said he'd fallen under a certain curse; some said he'd made a mistake while researching magic…
Faced with their curious—and incessant—questions, Wesson offered no real explanation, only that Lockhart had been attacked by a bad sort while out.
Most students didn't really believe it. They preferred to think it was the "curse" on the Defence Against the Dark Arts post at work.
Of course, apart from Harry and a few others, no one knew of the basilisk's existence.
The basilisk still prowled in the darkness, biding its time.
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