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Despite Professor Quirrell's dismal classroom performance, Anthony still quite trusted his magical level. After understanding souls himself, Anthony had to admit Professor Quirrell was practically a genius—in their few discussions, he'd shown very profound insights into magic's essence.
Moreover, Quirrell definitely wasn't that bookworm scholar type—though easily nervous, from his exchanges with Anthony, he possessed rich practical experience in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Sometimes Anthony felt his own ideas were quite novel and bold, but Professor Quirrell could always find loopholes from various angles and repeatedly pointed out unreliable aspects of his experiments.
Therefore, as Anthony walked upstairs with Quirrell, he briefed the situation. "I found a passage that leads directly to the Basilisk's kitchen, but its bedroom door is closed."
"How—how do you confirm that's a Ba—Basilisk?" Professor Quirrell asked.
Anthony said, "I saw shed skin, very large, exactly like what's written in that Lovely Big Friends you lent me. You know that ghost next door to us, Professor Quirrell? Moaning Myrtle? She's the Basilisk's victim... Though since her death, I haven't found more victim records, so very likely the Basilisk is dormant."
Professor Quirrell followed silently behind him.
Anthony noticed he kept looking at the rope and snake in his hand and proactively explained, "The book says humans and ordinary snakes can both communicate with Basilisks through Parseltongue... You'll understand when you see that wall, Professor Quirrell—the door password should be Parseltongue."
And the rope was to have a way out after dealing with the Basilisk—a very Muggle method. But he still had to again admire magic's convenience. With just a bit of Transfiguration, his belt became a long rope.
To avoid exposing the house-elves and Weasley twins' secret, Anthony only said the Room of Requirement was something he accidentally discovered and inside was a passage to the Basilisk's lair. After walking back and forth three times, that door appeared and Professor Quirrell was greatly startled and trembled all over.
"What's wrong?" Anthony asked with concern. "If you're unwell, quickly return to your room and sleep."
"No—no pro—problem," Quirrell's voice trembled, as if before him wasn't an ordinary door but an enraged monster. But he didn't retreat a single step.
Anthony looked at him worriedly, opened the door to show him that pitch-black opening, and said, "Right down here."
Then he wholeheartedly thought, if only there was somewhere in the room to hang the rope securely... He could use the rope to mark walked paths and could also climb up along the rope...
Just as he thought this, he suddenly saw an iron ring on the wall—not too big, not too small, very solid, just right for his rope.
"Excellent," Anthony said, threaded the rope through the iron ring, and tied a firm figure-eight knot.
He held the rope loosely and said to Quirrell, "I'll go down first, Professor Quirrell. The passage is quite long—if worried, you can hold the rope..."
He sat at the opening and slid down once again. The rope coil consumed rapidly and he even had to twice maintain hanging in midair to extend the rope.
Then he felt slight movement from the rope's other end. Quirrell still bravely came down.
Anthony waved to extinguish nearby Soul Fire—he had no plan to make poor Professor Quirrell more nervous—then picked up the Wraith Mouse that crawled onto his shoe and stuffed it in his pocket.
The rat burrowed around in his pocket, finally seemed to find a comfortable position, and settled down in a corner. Anthony reached in a finger and stroked its head.
Then Professor Quirrell finally came down. The hand not gripping the rope steadily held his wand and stable light shone at the wand tip, illuminating the tunnel brightly.
"Very powerful Lumos, Professor," Anthony couldn't help praising.
Lumos was also one of his most commonly used spells—usually not to illuminate anything, just playing with the wand—but absolutely couldn't achieve such large-range stable lighting like Professor Quirrell.
With Professor Quirrell's help, the tunnel wasn't as dark and gloomy as when he came before. Anthony chatted with him while following corpse guidance toward the main tunnel.
Perhaps to escape tension brought by dangerous magical creatures, Quirrell's questions about the Room of Requirement seemed far more than his questions about the Basilisk.
Quirrell asked, "How—how did you discover this place, An—Anthony Professor?"
"You might know, Professor Quirrell, I've been investigating magical creatures in the school, largely because I worried some monster was wandering the castle," Anthony said. "But finding this passage was truly complete coincidence—I think I was just rather lucky..."
If the Room of Requirement hadn't brought him to the Hog's Head Inn courtyard, he absolutely wouldn't have discovered this room could create passages or thought of using it to throw garbage.
Though his investigation wasn't without gains. At least when seeing the shed skin, he immediately realized where he'd arrived and what was waiting behind the wall.
"Lu—luck," Quirrell said quietly.
Anthony glanced at him. Under Lumos's white light, a complex emotional expression appeared on his exceptionally pale face.
Quirrell continued, "Still very—very remarkable, Professor Anthony. I think even the Head—Headmaster might not necessarily..."
"I dare not claim credit," Anthony said honestly. "In fact, someone else told me about this place." He hesitated but still didn't mention that kitchen encounter. "It was originally used to store things."
Quirrell suddenly stopped. The light at his wand tip flickered bright and dim and bean-sized sweat slid down from his forehead, as if he was enduring great pain.
"Sto—store what things?" he asked.
"You really need to see Madam Pomfrey, Professor," Anthony tried supporting him.
But Quirrell dodged his hand and stared at him persistently. "No—no problem. I—I'm always like this."
Anthony had to answer his question. "I don't know, I didn't investigate." The house-elves only told him for hundreds of years, this was the room they used to store miscellaneous items. He dared say he'd been busy enough this term and really had no energy to open a lost-and-found counter for so many years of students.
"You—you didn't?" Quirrell confirmed, still appearing anxious and uneasy.
"I didn't," Anthony assured him. "What's wrong, Professor Quirrell? Are you worried about something?"
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