## The Girl Named Myrtle
The first week of June, with its brightest sunshine, brought the final exams as expected.
History of Magic, Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, Astronomy…
Exam after exam, the campus was filled with a mix of tension and excitement. Most students were in high spirits, confident they would achieve excellent results.
Throughout this year of "gaming," the students had been well-trained. According to the professors, they were much stronger than the previous year.
But some wore bitter expressions. Students focused more on practical skills than theory, and Astronomy and History of Magic, which relied entirely on memorization, remained major hurdles in the exams.
"I really wish they'd cancel History of Magic," Michael complained. "What's the point in knowing what year the Cauldron was invented? I just need to know which ones work well!"
"Which brand of Cauldron is the best?" Neville eagerly asked. "I, I want to buy one too…"
Even with Wade and others tutoring him, Neville's performance in Potions Class was still poor. Everyone felt it was because Neville was too nervous.
But Neville couldn't be blamed for having a poor mental state; Snape truly often targeted him and spoke very harshly.
It was surprising enough that Neville hadn't deserted yet; no one could ask for more.
When he wasn't in front of Snape, he could actually gradually brew a passable potion.
He was just a long way from excellent.
As the saying goes, a poor student has many stationery items. Neville seemed to hope that some external factors would improve his Potions grades, so he was enthusiastic about buying better Cauldrons.
But Michael just shrugged and said, "Neville, of course the expensive ones work better!"
Neville: "…"
He rolled his eyes, then turned his head and asked, "Where's Wade?"
"He had something to discuss with Dumbledore and left after turning in his paper early," Michael said.
The others didn't think much of it; they were already used to Wade always being involved in adult affairs.
…
Headmaster's Office.
From the silver, pot-shaped container, plumes of white mist rose, and a very old portrait on the wall opened its eyes.
Dumbledore's expression was extremely serious.
Before he could speak, Phineas Black on the wall spoke first.
"Hmph, absurd! Ridiculous! I've never heard of such a thing!"
"Slytherin, one of the founders, left a Basilisk in the school? That's preposterous! What would he do with a Basilisk? Kill everyone at Hogwarts? Don't forget, we Slytherins are also part of Hogwarts!"
"Nonsense! Utter nonsense!"
"A Basilisk's gaze can kill! If there really were a Basilisk roaming the school, the bones of those who've died in the school over the past thousand years would fill the Black Lake!"
Wade paid no attention to his words, looking at Dumbledore and saying:
"So I also need the help of your Fawkes—as far as I know, the Phoenix is immune to the magic of a Basilisk's gaze, and its tears can cure most poisons. It's the only magical being that can counteract a Basilisk."
The golden-red bird appeared from nowhere, landing on Dumbledore's shoulder, tilting its head to scrutinize the student who had designs on it.
Wade smiled at it and said, "I'd like to trouble Fawkes to first peck out the Basilisk's eyes, so we can face it with peace of mind—of course, this is just my personal request. If Fawkes is unwilling, we can think of another way."
Fawkes let out a low trill.
Dumbledore smiled. "I think that means yes."
Fawkes nodded gravely.
"Thank you very much, Fawkes," Wade said. "Then let's set the time for June 13th, the day after the Quidditch match. I will notify the relevant people, and they can voluntarily choose whether to participate."
"Very good," Dumbledore said. "Those who participate need to understand what they will face beforehand."
Fawkes also nodded affirmingly.
Its serious, earnest little eyes made it seem as if it were the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and the white-bearded old man at its feet was merely a mount.
Wade couldn't help but smile, saying, "Of course."
…
"You really believe him?"
Phineas was very displeased. "Dumbledore, don't let yourself be swayed by a mere student! I admit he's a bit clever, but you're the Headmaster of this school!"
Several old Headmasters in nearby portraits silently nodded in agreement, and one muttered, "Good thing I died early… kids these days have less and less respect for their elders!"
Dumbledore smiled.
"Phineas, Armando, I don't need children to be formally deferential to me. Being able to converse as equals and offer a little help to young people is my favorite state."
Armando Dippet mumbled something, his eyes half-closed, as if he had fallen asleep again.
When he was alive, he also had an excellent student, clever and handsome, who also respected him greatly.
And what about later… that student became the Dark Lord, striking fear into the Wizarding World.
Phineas pressed, "So you really believe him? Believe there's a Basilisk hiding in the school that no one has ever seen?"
"Why wouldn't I? That child doesn't speak without certainty."
Dumbledore rummaged through the plate, finally choosing a mango biscuit thickly coated with cream.
"Even if there is... even if there really is..."
Phineas paced back and forth in his portrait, begrudgingly saying, "That's also something Slytherin left behind. Understand? It's a precious legacy from the founder! How can you just let a few people casually dispose of it?! Maybe it's the last thing Slytherin left for the world."
Slytherin's relic...
Dumbledore suddenly seemed lost in thought.
He recalled the black ring he had seen in someone's memory; he remembered its unique markings and the legend he had pursued in his youth.
After a long silence, Dumbledore heard Phineas still rambling on:
"...It hasn't attacked anyone in over a thousand years, so even if it exists, it's safe! Why not give it a chance? Let it stay undisturbed..."
"It hasn't always been that way," Dumbledore said.
"What?" Phineas asked.
"Fifty years ago, a student died," Dumbledore said. "Remember? Her name was Myrtle, and she was only fourteen."
Phineas fell silent.
"Indeed, the Basilisk has been quiet for over a thousand years, but I can understand why Wade feels it needs to be eliminated."
Dumbledore continued, "Because someone capable of controlling it has appeared... Tom Riddle, a descendant of Slytherin, who also possesses the gift of Parseltongue. The Basilisk could be manipulated by Voldemort at any time and turned into a weapon to attack us."
Much later, another headmistress, Dilys, asked, "Dumbledore, what about the students' safety? Even without the power of its eyes, a Basilisk is not something an ordinary young wizard can handle."
"Oh, you needn't worry about that; I'll naturally be there that day," Dumbledore said. "What I'm truly concerned about is something else entirely."
But this time, no matter how much the others pressed, Dumbledore refused to elaborate further.
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