Chapter 166. Half a Soul
Until Christmas, no further Petrifications occurred at Hogwarts.
The Basilisk hadn't been found; it had completely vanished, as if it had evaporated from the world.
Maybe… it had fallen asleep hibernating somewhere in the pipes?
There was another thing that puzzled Wesson: the Basilisk's attacks had no pattern. The first time it was Rai, the second time it was Lockhart.
Reasonably speaking, if the Basilisk had truly been unleashed by Lord Voldemort, its first targets ought to have been the Muggle-born students.
It was, frankly, baffling.
On Christmas Day, Harry and Ron stayed in their dormitory, opening their Christmas presents.
The snow that had paused on Christmas Eve began to whirl again. Quite a few owls had already visited their dormitory today, leaving the place piled with all manner of parcels.
Oh, and there was another uninvited guest.
At the crack of dawn, Hermione came into their dormitory with two wrapped gifts.
"This is the boys' dormitory…" Ron muttered under his breath.
Hermione, however, didn't care about such trifles and tossed one of the boxes to him. "There's no one else here."
The other three boys in Harry's dorm had gone home for Christmas.
With Harry and Ron, Hermione had no need to stand on ceremony.
Harry took the other present from Hermione and opened it at once. Inside was a finely made quill.
Then he moved on to the other packages: Hagrid's butter fudge, a Quidditch book from Ron, another jumper from Mrs Weasley…
The last parcel Harry opened was a very small one, signed by Wesson.
Unable to wait, Harry tore it open and found a very small plaque, which looked like an amulet.
There was also a note.
Harry read the note under his breath: "Merry Christmas, Harry. As you can see, it's another amulet. I carved it myself—no magic used. And of course, don't expect any enchantments on it. I hope all goes well with you."
Harry looked at the amulet. A clear line of words was engraved on it: Just, loyal, honest, unafraid of hardship.
Those were the qualities possessed by Hufflepuff students.
Unfortunately, the line of words was crooked; clearly the carver's workmanship left much to be desired.
"This gift isn't magical…" Hermione said, looking at the amulet in Harry's hand.
"But it's very good." Harry slipped the amulet into his pocket.
When they had finished opening all the presents, Hermione suddenly suggested, "I want to ask Professor Wesson about some duelling techniques. I've found a few new spells in my books lately."
"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed." Harry pulled on the jumper knitted by Mrs Weasley. "Professor Wesson isn't at school."
"Where has he gone?" Hermione asked, puzzled.
"No idea," Harry said with a shrug.
Hermione nodded silently. That wasn't surprising—professors had lives of their own; it was the Christmas holidays, after all.
Even so, she was a little disappointed.
She and Harry had just run a mock duel, and she had lost miserably.
Harry credited it all to Wesson's instruction.
While Harry and the others were spending Christmas morning at Hogwarts, Wesson was across the ocean.
In the United States, at Tiamorrison General Hospital, Wesson was sitting by his sister's bedside.
Ariana Wesson lay there as always, eyes closed, quiet.
The Tree of Wisdom had long since finished extracting the fragment of Voldemort's soul that had been absorbed from the diary.
As the soul power from the leaf of the Tree of Wisdom in Wesson's hand sank into the space between his sister's brows, the Tree of Wisdom displayed her current status.
[Status: Soul integrity (66%)]
Wesson's brow furrowed.
This result… was even worse than he had imagined.
The soul power extracted from the diary had raised his sister's soul integrity by five per cent, which far exceeded his expectations.
It was only half of what he had extracted last year from the Diadem of Ravenclaw.
Had Voldemort cut off a smaller portion of soul when he made the diary Horcrux?
No, no—impossible.
Wesson was more inclined to think that the piece of Voldemort in the diary had escaped in part.
In that case, what had happened at Hogwarts made sense.
Perhaps that escaped portion of Voldemort had taken control of someone and released the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.
If so, when did it escape?
Wesson pondered for a while. Before the diary reached his hands?
At that moment, there was a knock at the ward door.
"Meal time, Adrian—"
"Coming."
Wesson answered, stood up, and walked towards the corridor.
On the second day of Christmas, Wesson returned to Hogwarts.
Naturally, he had missed Hogwarts' Christmas feast.
There was no helping that; compared to a Christmas feast, keeping one's family company was clearly more important.
The Great Hall at Hogwarts still wore thick Christmas cheer: a dozen or so Christmas trees loaded with decorations, garlands braided of holly and mistletoe, and Christmas wreaths laid along the House tables…
Because he had come in a rush, Wesson hadn't even had breakfast. Fortunately, the house-elves had prepared some scones in advance and set them out on the Gryffindor table.
Wesson sat down casually at Gryffindor's seats and speared a scone with his fork.
There was no one else in the Great Hall just now.
"Professor Wesson!"
A slightly delighted voice sounded from behind him.
Chewing scone without fuss, Wesson turned his head and saw Hermione hurrying over, ears flushed red, hair more dishevelled than usual and still damp.
"Mm…" Wesson looked her over and asked, puzzled, "You look as if you've run a lap round the castle."
"More or less," Hermione lifted her chin. "Harry and I were just practising duelling in the courtyard."
"Just now?" Wesson blinked.
If he remembered correctly, there was a blizzard outside at the moment.
Hermione nodded. "Harry said harsh conditions train you better. You told him that."
"Ah, yes," Wesson said. "Extreme environments do accelerate growth. But remember to keep warm next time—mind frostbite."
"Right," Hermione seemed to remember something; her eyes lit up. "Professor Wesson, will the Duelling Club be held again? Everyone's looking forward to the next meeting."
After finishing his scone, Professor Wesson thought for a moment. "We'd probably need to ask Professor Lockhart. He's the one who started the Duelling Club."
"Bother," Hermione muttered in disappointment, then pressed on, "In that case… Professor, why don't you start another one? Everyone thinks your duelling instruction is more professional than Professor Lockhart's—and much more effective."
Start another one?
To be honest, Wesson very much wanted to. It was extremely important that the students acquire some measure of self-defence, because the wizarding world was very likely to be rather unsettled in the days ahead.
"An excellent idea, Hermione," he said.
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