Night fell, and the lights of Hogwarts glowed brightly.
This year's Christmas feast was grander than ever. Flickering candles and blazing torches, paired with sparkling ornaments on the fir trees, bathed the Great Hall in light. The air was thick with the sweet scent of candy and cream.
Crackers popped with loud bangs, and students' laughter echoed through the hall.
Plates lined the long tables. At the headmaster's signal, food appeared: golden roast turkey, buttery baked beans, perfectly seared steaks, and fragrant stewed soup, its aroma teasing out hungry salivations.
A wine bottle's cork popped open with a crisp pop.
Hagrid sniffed the eggnog's aroma, grinning as he poured himself a full glass. Sobriety could wait—today was Christmas. Tomorrow, he'd quit.
"Merry Christmas! Cheers!"
"Merry Christmas."
His colleagues at the staff table smiled warmly.
McGonagall, initially reserved, loosened up after a few glasses of eggnog, her cheeks flushed as she giggled at Flitwick's jokes.
Dumbledore wore a formal dress robe, meant to highlight his headmaster's dignity, but the flowered witch's hat atop his head undercut its elegance. The odd mix suited him perfectly.
Melvin sported a sharp black suit, white silk shirt, and a green handkerchief tucked in his breast pocket. Surprisingly, he'd brought a fedora, not worn but placed on the table.
A keen observer might notice the brim twitching slightly, as if something moved inside.
"With Lockhart unable to teach, Defense Against the Dark Arts needs substitutes again. Same arrangement as before—sound good?" Dumbledore chewed a piece of beef rib slowly.
"Is there a salary for substitute teaching?" Melvin asked, unabashed.
He covered classes every year. Others, as heads of house, might see it as part of their duty, but he was just an elective professor.
"Hmm, that's not my call. You'll have to ask Minerva," Dumbledore replied, equally unabashed, showing no guilt. But acknowledging the fair request, he pulled a wooden box from his pocket and slid it across the table.
"What's this?"
Melvin eyed the box, simple and unrefined, likely conjured with Transfiguration. "Didn't we already exchange Christmas gifts?"
Dumbledore smiled softly. "Open it."
Melvin glanced at him, wiped his hands with a napkin, and opened the box.
No intricate mechanisms or magic—just foam padding holding two green gemstones. One was pigeon-egg-sized, the other as small as a grain of rice, both polished to a crystalline sheen with delicate, intricate patterns.
"Look closely," Dumbledore urged.
Melvin leaned in, touching the gems. They were lighter than expected, each with a small hole emitting familiar magical vibrations.
"Extension Charm?" he asked, looking up.
"My personal collection, modified by Newt Scamander. He calls them serpent lairs. The larger one's spacious enough for a basilisk, perfect for hiding in the Chamber. The smaller one's for Yorm, embeddable in your ring."
Dumbledore wiggled his ring finger, gesturing to his own.
As if hearing its name, the fedora twitched, and a small white snake head poked out, tongue flicking.
"I'm almost touched," Melvin said.
The headmaster was genuinely thoughtful.
He closed the box, pocketing the gems. His suit lacked side pockets, only a small breast pocket for the handkerchief, too small for Yorm. Hence, the hat served as a temporary lair. With the gem, his pockets would be free.
…
Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table, savoring a spoonful of strawberry cream cake.
The sweet flavor filled her mouth, and she squinted in delight.
Her ritual was precise: eat the strawberries first, then the cream, and finally the fluffy cake. As she swallowed the last bite, two figures sat beside her, wearing blue-and-bronze ties—Cho Chang and Marietta from Ravenclaw.
"Hermione…"
Marietta set down a slice of blueberry cake. "Each house's cakes taste different. Try this!"
"Er…"
Hermione took it, slightly distressed—her stomach was already full.
Thankfully, they didn't watch her eat but chatted about the feast: the different foods at each table, gifts from crackers, riddles Professor Levent left at the common room, and holiday assignments…
Their chatter livened up the corner.
Girls, once friends, never ran out of things to talk about.
Nearby, among the boys, Ron watched Neville open a cracker. With a boom, blue smoke revealed a naval cap and several white mice that scurried off, chased by Mrs. Norris.
Ron frowned, worried. "Harry, Scabbers will be okay, right?"
"…"
Harry, poking at a turkey with his fork, hesitated on where to start. His gaze drifted to Cho, and he stared, transfixed, a goofy smile on his face.
Ginny, head down, tore into a drumstick with a ferocity surpassing her brother's.
Behind the turkey sat Christmas pudding. Someone found a coin in theirs, unbothered by the chip to their tooth, proudly showing it off.
The feast stretched late. Sated and merry, the students played, and Dumbledore led them in his favorite Christmas carols before reluctantly ending the night.
…
"Professor Levent, we have something important," Ron said earnestly.
Melvin, carrying his fedora, was leaving the hall when the second-year trio stopped him. Surprisingly, Ron took the lead, with Harry and Hermione, his tutoring students, a step behind.
Melvin, eager to return to his office to work on the serpent lair, was puzzled.
The basilisk issue was resolved early, Lockhart was in the hospital—what now? Brewing Polyjuice Potion?
"Professor, we want to go back to the Chamber. We need your help," Ron said.
"Give me a good reason."
"Scabbers is missing!" Ron said, distraught. "He's my pet rat, with me for years. I take him everywhere…"
Hermione, annoyed at his lack of focus, clarified, "Ron noticed Scabbers was gone after waking up. We thought he was in the hospital wing, but Madam Pomfrey said no rats were there. I think he might be in the Chamber."
Scabbers the rat—Peter Pettigrew's Animagus form.
Melvin paused, recalling the rat. Scabbers should've stayed until next year when a black dog came for him. Why was he gone now? No one should know his identity yet. A butterfly effect from Melvin's actions?
"How could that happen?" Melvin frowned.
"Exactly!" Ron felt comforted by the professor's concern. "There were candies from Seamus in the hospital wing. Even if Scabbers was starving and left to forage, he wouldn't go far. He's been with us for ten years—he wouldn't just leave!"
"So you think he's in the Chamber?" Melvin raised an eyebrow.
"Yes!"
The trio nodded firmly.
"You know this breaks school rules, but since it's the holidays, and considering your genuine feelings…" Melvin drawled, scanning their eyes. "Just this once. Whether we find him or not, no more Chamber visits."
He wasn't indulging childish whims. This trip was to place the emerald serpent lair and, with Harry's Parseltongue, put the basilisk back to sleep.
As for Scabbers, Melvin sincerely hoped to find him. He needed Peter's help with something.
"Professor, you're the best!" Harry and Ron cheered.
Hermione smiled too.
They headed to Myrtle's bathroom. At the copper faucet, without prompting, Harry stepped forward, hissing in Parseltongue.
"Hiss…"
The trio was distracted by the spinning sink, missing the fedora in Melvin's hand. Yorm's tiny head peeked out, eyeing Harry's mouth with curious black eyes.
Melvin felt a stir, patting its head, unsure if it understood.
Having entered the Chamber before, Harry and Ron jumped into the pipe with eager familiarity.
Hermione lagged behind, grimacing at the pipe's filth. Her last trip's clothes had taken multiple washes, still smelling foul. She glanced at Professor Levent, eyes hopeful.
Melvin smiled, tapping her shoulder. A transparent bubble enveloped her.
They followed slowly.
Harry and Ron landed first in the underground tunnel, a familiar chamber with animal bones scattered on the floor, brittle and crumbling to dust at a touch.
Ignoring their dirty clothes, Harry cast Lumos, and Ron scanned for Scabbers.
Their moods were mixed—worried they wouldn't find him, yet dreading finding his remains.
When Melvin and Hermione slid out, clean and untouched by sewage, Harry's feelings grew more complicated.
The group moved deeper.
Unlike Harry and Ron, focused on the rat, Hermione watched the professor, her eyes glinting. "Professor, what's the school doing with the Chamber?"
"Rerouting and hiding the entrance."
"And the basilisk?"
"Putting it back to sleep—indefinitely."
"…"
The solution surprised Hermione. She'd expected Dumbledore to remove or kill the dangerous creature, not let it slumber. It felt more like Levent's style.
Recalling months of hints and clues, her suspicions grew, but answers eluded her. She kept observing him.
They reached the Chamber door. Harry hissed, opening the stone gate.
Green mist drifted slowly, dim light illuminating the scene. Repaired stone pillars lined the chamber, Slytherin's statue loomed, and the floor was clear.
Ron rushed in, searching, with Harry close behind.
"Would Scabbers hide here?"
"I don't see him."
"He didn't get eaten by the basilisk, did he?" Ron's voice was heavy with grief.
"Only the basilisk would know. Harry speaks Parseltongue—ask it," Hermione said, tilting her head at Melvin. "Is that okay?"
"I'll block the basilisk's gaze," Melvin nodded, weaving through the pillars, searching for Scabbers.
Hermione's eyes gleamed. She'd read about basilisks—their gaze was deadly. Yet last time, no one died despite facing it. There had to be a reason, and that reason was the professor!
Harry was summoning the basilisk. Hermione wanted to watch Melvin, but the serpent drew her gaze.
A fifty-foot snake slithered from a deep stone hollow, its yellow eyes like lanterns, deep green scales gleaming as if oiled.
It opened its mouth, revealing long, sharp fangs. A faint sweet scent in its foul breath made her dizzy.
Harry gasped, then held his breath, feeling an odd déjà vu. Not long ago, they'd faced the basilisk with deathly resolve. Now they were here for a rat.
He hadn't thought to talk to it then.
As he prepared to speak, Hermione tugged his sleeve, giving him a look—first at the basilisk, then at the professor, hinting at a connection.
Harry's heart skipped, catching her meaning. He spoke carefully:
"Hiss…"
"Are you really Slytherin's?"
"Yes, Slytherin… my master."
"And now, do you follow Professor Levent's orders?"
"Hiss…"
What? Harry thought he'd misheard, repeating the question, but the basilisk's response was meaningless hissing. It didn't know who Levent was?
"I mean that man over there. Did he order you to attack us last time?"
"No… annoying students woke me, attacked me…"
Harry scratched his head. They had struck first last time. He tried another angle: "Before we entered the Chamber, he'd already been here, right?"
The basilisk flicked its tongue: "Yes…"