Inside the bottle, Peeves seemed disturbed by the Parseltongue he had just heard, bumping uneasily against the bottle's walls while cursing Sagres with foul language.
He had never been subjected to such indignity!
Being trapped in an enchanted glass bottle for two whole days—not even the Bloody Baron had done such a thing!
"Sagres! You slug from the gutter! You rotten, moldy crow! Let me out! I'll braid your hair into goblin foot rags! I'll smear your most expensive robes with dung bombs..."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Immediately followed a series of violent impacts.
Sagres was expressionless, as if merely carrying a noisy package. He lowered his head slightly, his icy gaze penetrating the bottle to fall upon Peeves.
"Quiet. Or do you want to taste something else?"
Peeves' movements suddenly froze.
He seemed to recall that this Professor was not Filch, who could be easily teased. So he hovered in the center of the bottle, his distorted features contorting into an extremely fawning yet bizarre smile.
"Oh~ the greatest, most benevolent Professor Greengrass! Handsome Sir! Embodiment of wisdom! You must be mistaken! I, Peeves, your most loyal and harmless little elf, am merely... uh... engaging in a wholesome morning exercise! Let me go, please? I promise, I swear on all the ghosts of Hogwarts, I'll never put itching powder in students' drinks again! I'll never draw stick figures on Professor Binns' podium again..."
As he spoke with excitement, he couldn't help but bump the bottle once, then immediately stopped, rubbing his illusory hands ingratiatingly.
"Your promises are cheaper than a troll's snot."
Sagres' voice was low and steady, without a ripple.
The fawning expression on Peeves' face instantly vanished, replaced by extreme fury. He swelled up, almost filling the entire space within the bottle, his features distorted beyond recognition.
"You damned, cold-blooded worm! You despicable, shameless thief! You stole my precious freedom! Who do you think you are? Dumbledore wouldn't even dare treat me like this! Just you wait! When I get out! I'll make the entire castle echo with—"
Sagres' eyes sharpened, and he lightly raised his right hand, which held his wand. A faint red glow instantly flashed inside the bottle, and the temperature sharply rose.
Peeves immediately let out an incredibly real, sharp cry of pain. "Ow!! Hot! It's boiling me alive! Stop! Stop it now!"
He frantically rolled and dodged in the cramped space, his previous arrogance completely gone. "Please! Merciful Master! Generous Professor! I was wrong! I was truly wrong! I'll shut up! I'll be as quiet as a dead bat! Don't roast me! I promise! I guarantee it on Peeves' dignity!"
Sagres' fingers moved slightly, the red light vanished, and the temperature inside the bottle returned to normal.
Peeves collapsed at the bottom of the bottle like a crumpled, wet rag, panting nonexistent breaths, his eyes filled with the terror of having narrowly escaped death.
He secretly peeked at Sagres, not daring to make any sound for the time being, only occasionally twitching to prove he was still "alive."
Sagres looked at Peeves, who was temporarily "behaving" in the bottle, his voice still cold. "Very good, keep it up."
Then he turned and walked to the washbasin, casually saying "Open" in Parseltongue again.
Immediately—
Click-clack-clack-clack...
A grating, teeth-scraping sound, like rusted gears being forced to turn, echoed through the room.
Sagres watched in astonishment as the filthy, cracked faucet, along with the entire stone sink it was attached to, began to rotate in an extremely unnatural manner.
The edges of the sink split apart with a harsh grinding, revealing a bottomless, pitch-black opening below, exuding a dark aura.
The stone surrounding the edge of the opening was eerily smooth, clearly not naturally formed.
Sagres' heart gave a sudden leap.
Had he really become so influenced by these old-fashioned wizards that his thinking was starting to grow rigid and inflexible?
Yes—who said the Chamber of Secrets' entrance connected to the underground pipes had to be through a toilet?
Surely the proud Salazar Slytherin would not have chosen such an ignoble entrance.
Though, this one was not particularly grand either...
But at least it wasn't the Ministry of Magic's absurd method of drilling through toilets! He had once thought that was the sort of abstract nonsense only a transmigrator could dream up.
The pitch-black opening yawned like the maw of a giant beast. Sagres tightened his grip on his wand, a faint smile touching his lips.
He glanced at Peeves, who was curled up in a ball inside the bottle, then at the blackened ghost floating nearby, her expression frozen in surprise.
"Do you want to come with me… or is this where you stop?"
Peeves immediately forced out a fawning, twisted smile, his words spilling in a rapid torrent: "Ah! Great and wise Master! Your loyal Peeves would, of course… of course love to follow you on this epic adventure! But alas, my pitiful abilities would only hinder you, only weigh you down. So… so I'll stop here! I wish you a smooth journey and a triumphant victory!"
"Very well," Sagres nodded calmly. "Then you'll come with me."
"Okay, thank you, great Pro— Huh? Wait! What did you say?"
Sagres ignored him. Peeves instantly erupted in protest, bristling and thrashing against the bottle walls.
Sagres, unmoved, summoned Noctis from nearby and gave a cold command:
"The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in the girls' lavatory where Myrtle resides."
With that, he leapt without hesitation, his figure vanishing into the bottomless dark.
His body shot rapidly down the narrow, slippery vertical shaft, Peeves' terrified whimpers rattling inside the bottle as they echoed in his ears.
The descent lasted several seconds before his boots finally struck solid rock.
Sagres landed lightly, the soles of his boots scuffing faintly against the damp stone.
"Ugh—! What… what is this foul pit? Everything's slimy! Let me out! The great Lord Peeves is suffocating!"
Inside the bottle, Peeves made exaggerated retching noises, hammering frantically at the glass walls.
Sagres ignored him; the poltergeist was faking.
He raised his wand. A cold white orb of light flared at its tip, driving back the suffocating darkness.
An impossibly vast underground chamber stretched before him.
Stone pillars, each entwined with carved serpents, supported the cavern's roof. The dome soared so high it was lost in shadows beyond the wandlight's reach.
Giant snake skins lay scattered across the floor, their scales glimmering faintly with a green phosphorescence.
The air was icy, rank with a pungent, ancient staleness. Silence pressed in from every side, broken only by the "drip… drip…" of water falling from the unseen heights above onto stone and puddles below.
The orb of light at Sagres' wandtip shifted shape, unfurling into a bird woven from luminous feathers. It glided forward soundlessly into the cavern's depths, and Sagres followed close behind.
"Wait… don't go farther! This place is horrible! Even Peeves feels cold… Let me out, Professor! I'll vanish, I'll never bother you again, I swear… woohoo…"
Peeves' voice came out tearful, echoing far too clearly in the heavy silence.
Sagres ignored him; the poltergeist was still putting on an act.
He hadn't brought Peeves for any real purpose—only as a distraction along the way. Listening to the poltergeist switch faces between panic and arrogance reminded him of his life before transmigrating, hearing foolish netizens boast online.
Ahead loomed a massive stone door, carved with winding snake-shaped bas-reliefs. Sagres paused briefly, then hissed "Open" in Parseltongue.
At once, a serpent slithered endlessly along the carvings until the door creaked apart.
He stepped inside.
An enormous stone statue dominated the chamber, glaring down coldly over the space. In the wandlight, its face appeared both sinister and imposing, the hollow sockets of its eyes seeming to follow every movement.
This was vastly different from Sagres' impression of the handsome Slytherin. If this was his own work, it could only mean that Salazar Slytherin's self-perception of his image was completely different from others'.
The glowing bird of light drifted ahead, circling once before settling on the open ground directly beneath the giant statue, at the very heart of the Chamber of Secrets.
There, a figure lay sprawled.
Or rather—a body, clinging faintly to life.
Gilderoy Lockhart.
~~~~~~~~~~
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