The class ended with far more laughter than learning.
Students spilled out of the dueling room, many still glancing back with amused expressions. Lockhart had tried to recover his dignity, but being thrown off the platform—twice—had made a lasting impression.
Ron walked beside Harry, still grinning.
"How can someone be that useless?" he said. "He didn't even land a single spell on Snape."
Harry let out a small laugh. "He didn't even win once, not in either of the two times."
Ron shook his head. "Honestly, I thought he was supposed to be some great duelist."
Hermione, however, wasn't smiling.
She walked in silence, her expression thoughtful, almost troubled.
The image of Lockhart from the books—the confident wizard facing down dangerous creatures—didn't match what she had just seen. Not even close. His movements had been slow, his reactions worse, and there had been nothing in that duel that suggested real skill.
It didn't make sense.
If he was truly capable of everything he had written about, then what they had witnessed should have been impossible.
The books and the man… don't match, she thought.
Victor, walking beside her, noticed the shift in her expression.
"You've finally started questioning it," he said quietly.
Hermione glanced at him.
"His books," she said. "They describe things far beyond what we saw today. That wasn't just underwhelming—it was… basic."
Victor's expression remained calm.
"Stories are easy to write," he said. "Living them is something else entirely."
Night had settled over Hogwarts, and students were returning to their dormitories in the usual way, talking among themselves and filling the corridors with ordinary noise. Nothing seemed different at first, and for a while, it felt like just another evening.
Then the movement ahead slowed.
A few students stopped, others leaned forward to see what had caught their attention, and within moments a small crowd had formed in the middle of the corridor. Curiosity pulled more students closer, voices overlapping as they tried to get a look.
At the center of it all, lying on the cold stone floor, was a first-year boy.
Colin Creevey.
He was completely still, his body rigid, his eyes wide open but unseeing. In his hands, he clutched his camera as if he had been about to take a photograph at the exact moment something interrupted him.
The noise around him began to change.
Someone near the front spoke, their voice uncertain. "Wait… is he dead?"
Another student shook their head quickly, though the fear in their expression was obvious. "No… he looks like Mrs. Norris. The same… petrified."
The word spread through the group, passing from one voice to another.
"So it's true…"
"There really is a monster…"
"The Chamber of Secrets…"
The tone shifted from curiosity to something heavier, something closer to fear.
The crowd parted as professors arrived.
Dumbledore stepped forward, Professor McGonagall beside him, her expression already tense. Several other teachers followed, their presence pushing the students further back without the need for repeated orders.
McGonagall knelt beside Colin and examined him carefully. After a moment, she looked up.
"He is not dead," she said clearly. "He has been petrified."
A quiet ripple moved through the watching students.
Dumbledore's attention turned to the camera still in Colin's hands. He took it gently and opened it, studying the contents for a brief moment before closing it again.
"The film has been completely destroyed," he said. "It appears to have been melted."
Dumbledore inclined his head slightly, then turned to face the gathered students.
"You will all return to your dormitories at once," he said, his voice calm but leaving no room for hesitation.
This time, no one lingered.
Students began to move away, their earlier conversations replaced with hushed whispers as they left the corridor behind.
"We search the castle again." Dumbelore said. "Thoroughly. We cannot risk another incident like this."
As students were being sent back to their dormitories, most followed the instructions without question.
Not everyone turned back.
Four figures moved quietly in the opposite direction, heading toward the second floor.
Hermione quickened her steps slightly to match Victor.
"Victor, where are we going?" she asked, her voice low but tense.
Victor didn't slow.
"To the Chamber of Secrets," he said calmly. "We end the basilisk before it harms anyone else."
Ron stopped for half a second, then hurried after them, clearly alarmed.
"Are you mad?" he said. "How are we supposed to deal with that thing? One bite and we're done!"
Harry, walking beside him, didn't look any less concerned, but he didn't stop either.
"But we have to do something," he said. "If we don't, someone else could end up like Colin… or worse."
Ron looked between them, frustrated and uneasy.
"That doesn't mean we go looking for it!" he snapped. "That thing nearly got us last time!"
Victor finally slowed slightly, glancing back at them.
"I'm not planning to fight it blindly," he said. "I already told you what it is and how it kills. I'm not careless enough to ignore that."
"You have a plan?" Hermione asked.
"Yes," he said. "I have a way to kill it."
*****
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