Chapter 2: The Beast-Speaker
The dungeons were a sensory assault. The chill of the wet stone, the smell of mildew and forgotten things, the flickering light of the torches casting long, dancing shadows. Leo knelt in a secluded alcove, his hand held out to a tiny rat. This little creature, Pixel, was his first ally, his first real connection in this strange new world.
"Hey, buddy," he whispered, his voice soft, gentle. He focused, the memory of the Entity's sarcastic gift a warm spark in his mind. He wasn't just a boy in a new body; he was a Beast-Speaker.
[BOOST UNLOCKED: BEAST-SPEAK LEVEL 1. CONGRATS, DR. DOLITTLE. TRY NOT TO START A RODENT REVOLUTION—COOLDOWN 5 MIN.]
The message was a bold, glowing script in his vision, and he almost laughed out loud.
"Revolution? Pixel for president."
The rat, Pixel, twitched its whiskers, its tiny nose nudging against his fingers. He felt a faint tickle, the trust between them a tangible warmth against the cold stone. Enid's head popped over the railing of the west wing, her hair a splash of color against the gloom.
"Talking to rats? Adorable," she teased, a soft blush on her cheeks.
"Ow, love bite?" Leo quipped as Pixel gave his finger a gentle nibble.
"Was he just a kid who talked to rats? Was this all a gimmick? No. He had a mission. And his first step was to build a network."
Enid giggled, a sound that cut through the silence of the dungeons.
"Your laugh's the real trap," he retorted, his voice playful, a flirty warmth in his chest.
The interaction felt easy, natural. This was a crush worth exploring.
Pixel, his tiny partner in crime, scurried away from him, its tail disappearing into a small crack in the wall. It was a silent invitation. An urge to follow.
The tunnel was cramped and narrow, smelling of wet earth and something else. Something metallic and bitter, like old blood. Pixel, a small, furry guide, led the way. Leo squeezed through a crack in the wall, the stone scraping against his robes. The air grew thick with a residue he couldn't place, and the light from his wand flickered over scorched hydra scales glinting faintly on the ground.
[PLOT TWIST: TUNNEL'S NOT ON MAPS. SHOCKING, RIGHT?]
The System's sarcasm was a constant companion, a funny-but-not-funny reminder that he was in danger. He pocketed a hydra scale, the rough texture of it a grim reminder of the vision the Entity had shown him. A vision of the Nevermore shutdown. A vision of a conspiracy.
"Smooth, Benedict," Enid's voice came from behind him, her laughter echoing in the tight space. He'd been so focused on the scales he'd tripped on a loose stone.
"Treasure hunt or death trap? Both?" he quipped, turning to face her.
"Optimist," she shot back, a roll of her eyes, a smile on her face.
He heard another voice, deeper, more deadpan. Wednesday. He looked at her, and she stepped out of the shadows.
"Ruins hold secrets," she said. "Let's dissect."
She handed him a small, folded note, a new kind of communication now that the dorms were segregated.
He opened it, reading her neatly written words. They were a collaboration, a strange, dark alliance. He looked at the scorched scales in his hand, the old, metallic blood scent stinging his nose. He knew about the Basilisk, had seen the Chamber of Secrets in his memories, but the connection to the hydra, the "accident," was a frustrating blank spot.
"Spit it out, BOOST," he thought, his frustration a burning coal in his gut. "Why can't I remember the Basilisk? The hydra? What's the connection?"
[RECALL? SPOILERS.]
He sighed. He'd have to figure it out on his own. He pushed forward, a flicker of movement at the end of the tunnel catching his eye. A shadowy figure. He only saw it for a second before it vanished. He knew instinctively who it was. Thorne. The mystery of the ruins, the Black Thorn conspiracy, it was all tied together. He had to keep pushing, keep investigating.
Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class was a blast of fresh air, literally. The crisp autumn breeze, the smell of damp earth and animal fur. He stood before a magnificent hippogriff, its feathers shimmering in the sunlight, its eyes black and intelligent.
Draco, of course, was there, sneering from the sidelines. "Freak whisperer," he muttered.
"Easy, big guy," Leo whispered, his voice a low rumble. He bowed, his mind focusing, the System's power flowing through him. The hippogriff, Buckbeak, lowered its head, a sense of peace settling over it. Hagrid clapped his hands together, a wide grin on his face.
[SYSTEM BOOSTS CALM. HIPPOGRIFF AFFINITY DETECTED. UPGRADE TEASE—EARN IT.]
Leo felt a surge of pride. He could do this. This was his purpose. His reason for being here. He could protect these creatures, these outcasts.
"Jealous your broom doesn't talk back?" he quipped, turning to Draco.
Some Gryffindors laughed, and even a few Slytherins looked amused. Draco's face, however, turned a bright, furious red.
As the class ended, Hermione Granger approached him, her quill and parchment in her hand.
"Fascinating," she said, her eyes bright with intellectual curiosity. "The calming effect, the way you spoke to it… it's like a language. Explain."
He grinned. This was it. The start of an alliance.
[ONE DOWN, HUNDRED CREATURES. DON'T GET PECKED.]
Leo looked at the System message, then at Hermione, a playful glint in his eyes. He felt a budding confidence, a certainty that he was on the right path. He knew he was going to need her help.
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