Rita, with the keen instincts of a true journalist, burst through the door and dashed away. She quite missed Professor Lockhart in his office, sipping tea with a perfectly unhurried smile, as if not a single magical worry in the world could touch him. Indeed, he couldn't afford to rush. At such a pivotal moment, he certainly didn't wish to be seen by the likes of Professor McGonagall with a reporter trailing him, for that would be simply tiresome.
Because... the Chamber of Secrets had been opened!
By the time Lockhart emerged from his office, the staircase at the end of the corridor was already swarming with young witches and wizards, all whispering secretively and pointing now and again towards Harry Potter and his companions at the foot of the stairs.
"Professor Lockhart!" one of the students cried out, their voice brimming with excitement. "Oh, splendid! Professor Lockhart is here!"
This scene, it seemed, struck a familiar chord. Ah, yes, it was much like the last time Ron had tried that unfortunate Slug-Vomiting Charm on Draco, only for his broken wand to backfire. Then, too, young witches and wizards had cheered as if a saviour had appeared. On that occasion, Lockhart had wished to be as invisible as an Invisibility Cloak. Unbeknownst to him, things had begun to change.
He hurried forward, clutching his dittany, nodding to each of the small wizards and witches who greeted him, appearing as a true saviour as he arrived beside Harry Potter. "Children, what in Merlin's beard has happened?"
His smile, as always, radiated an unwavering confidence that defied all difficulties, a gentle brilliance that instantly eased the tense spirits of several young students.
"Professor..." Hermione, quite agitated, pulled him past some older students and pointed ahead. "Look!"
There, on the wall, between two windows, blood-red words glowed faintly in the torchlight.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
Yes, Lockhart knew these words from the original tale. But below them, a new line appeared, one he didn't recall.
ALL WHO BETRAY ME, ALL WHO DECLARE THEMSELVES AGAINST ME, SHALL BE PUNISHED!
Now, that was rather intriguing. For Tom Riddle, this extra line probably made little difference, but for certain groups, it was surely like a stunning blow! As for which groups... one only had to look at the victims of the recent basilisk appearances to know.
Professor McGonagall, her expression grave, leaned through the opened window beside the ominous words. "Professor Lockhart, you'd best come and see this."
Lockhart quickly stepped into the adjacent classroom. There, to his astonishment, two young wizards stood perfectly still, frozen in mid-guffaw, their postures eerily unnatural. It was Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe, two of Malfoy's usual shadows. Draco, meanwhile, was huddled on the floor nearby, trembling, seemingly terrified out of his wits.
Professor Snape, having just finished examining him, stood up, his face grim, and spoke in a hushed tone. "All three of them were present. Draco claims he was sitting in that chair, lost in thought, and by the time he realised there was no sound behind him, they had already become like this." He gestured towards a spot in the classroom corner, a place with its back to Goyle and Crabbe.
Lockhart pressed his lips together, saying nothing, as he slowly approached Goyle and Crabbe. He followed their line of sight towards a window beside them, now somewhat obscured by a Dungbomb, likely thrown by some mischievous student.
"They appear to be petrified," Professor Flitwick, the Charms master, concluded after his own examination. Petrification, in the common parlance of wizarding magic, usually referred to a wizard's body becoming as stiff as stone, not actually turning into stone. The most renowned example was the Full Body-Bind Curse, whose incantation was, fittingly, 'Petrificus Totalus.'
Professor Flitwick attempted various counter-charms and un-petrifying spells, even stretching on tiptoes to wave his wand before Goyle and Crabbe's eyes. Finally, he shook his head with a sigh of regret. "However, unlike the Full Body-Bind, which only immobilises the body while leaving the eyes unaffected, they seem entirely petrified, eyes and all."
Lockhart nodded. A wisp of black smoke drifted from his wizard's robes, settling into his palm. He held it aloft before Goyle and Crabbe. "Their consciousness has completely fallen silent." He shook his head at Professor Snape and the others. "Not even a Boggart could sense their inner thoughts."
Just then, the classroom door swung open once more, and Dumbledore strode in, followed by the castle caretaker, Filch. Dumbledore carried his ancient wand, his face tight, evidently having just scoured every corner of the castle with no success.
Filch began shouting. "It's Harry Potter! It must be him! Many people saw Potter and his lot skulking around the castle, and then they were caught by this wall! They even claimed they were following a Parselmouth, babbling about a snake saying 'kill him' and such nonsense! Hmph, who doesn't know Harry Potter is a Parselmouth? Only he can understand those repulsive snakes..."
"Mr. Filch!" Lockhart cut short his rambling. He shook his head at the caretaker. "I'm the one who taught the children Parseltongue. They all understand it."
Filch blinked, utterly bewildered. Could speaking to snakes truly be taught? Even Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and Professor Flitwick stared at Lockhart, their faces etched with astonishment.
"You taught them Parseltongue?" Professor Snape's expression became exceedingly odd.
Lockhart shrugged, spreading his hands. "Parseltongue is, after all, a branch of Defence Against the Dark Arts. Why ever not teach it?" As the saying goes, a wizard with many skills has a better chance of surviving in the wider world; more tricks up one's sleeve mean more ways to protect oneself. How grand!
Dumbledore, however, clearly did not see it quite that way. He watched Lockhart thoughtfully from the side, a faint glimmer in his half-moon spectacles.