Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Dumbledore's gaze sharpened: "What do you intend to do?"

Kane gave a Malfoy-esque smile: "Let's continue playing this game with him. Next time I'll tell him I've found the entrance to the secret room, and see how he reacts."

He put away the map. "But before that, I need your help to confirm something."

"What is it?"

"Check out Gilderoy Lockhart."

Kane's voice suddenly turned cold. "Ever since Colin was petrified, his behavior has been too...abnormal. Especially this morning, he actually pronounced a complex incantation correctly."

Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly: "You suspect..."

"The Memory Charm can not only erase memories, but also implant them," Kane said softly. "It's a perfect cover if someone wants to control the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts."

Outside the window, the ripples of Black Lake reflected the moonlight, casting swaying shadows on the stone walls of the dormitory.

After a moment of silence, Dumbledore finally nodded: "I'll keep an eye on Gilderoy. And you, Kane..."

He looked at the young man seriously. "Be very careful. Tom in the diary has already begun to suspect you."

Kane stroked the ebony box, a confident smile playing on his lips: "Make him doubt. A distracted opponent is more prone to making mistakes."

After Dumbledore's figure disappeared into the green flames of the fireplace, Kane took another notebook from his desk drawer and began to record in detail the discoveries of the evening.

As he was writing, he suddenly stopped writing and looked up out the window—there, a snow-white owl was gently tapping the glass with its beak, a roll of parchment tied to its foot.

Kane opened the window, took the letter, and unfolded it to find only a short line of text:

The search in Albania has made progress. More time is needed. —G

He burned the note over the candle flame, and the ashes fell into his unfathomable eyes, as dark as a black lake.

The night is still long, but the game has only just begun.

Carlo Warren's claws scratched across the damp walls of the secret chamber, leaving four deep marks on the stone surface.

He was Fenrir Greyback's subordinate, following his boss's orders, and managed to sneak into Hogwarts through those dirty channels!

Three days had passed since the full moon, but a wolfish yellow light still lingered in his eyes, and his sharp canines protruded beyond his lips.

The werewolf was holding its breath, listening intently to every subtle sound in the darkness.

"Damn Fenrir," he muttered, his voice like sandpaper scraping, "saying there's some treasure in the secret chamber that can enhance a werewolf's power..."

The air in the underground passage was thick and rotten, carrying a lingering stench that hadn't dissipated for millennia.

Carlo's night vision allowed him to see the stone door at the end of the tunnel, carved with a giant snake—an eerie green light seeped from the cracks in the door, as if something was breathing behind it.

He touched the silver dagger tucked at his waist, a trophy he had taken from some unfortunate Auror.

When dealing with magical creatures, especially snakes, silverware is always a safe bet.

Carlo grinned menacingly, revealing jagged, sharp teeth: "Let's see what good things Salazar Slytherin left behind."

The stone door did not react to his approach, but when Graybuck took out a blood-stained container from his pocket and touched the serpentine door knocker...

The blood was Fenrir's—the stone door suddenly slid open silently, revealing a downward spiral staircase.

The damp, musty smell was instantly replaced by a more pungent odor: a mixture of rotting flesh, scales, and some ancient, magical metal.

Carlo's werewolf instincts immediately tensed all his muscles, and every hair on his body stood on end.

There's something here... something alive.

At the end of the stairs was a huge circular stone chamber, at least fifty feet in diameter.

The ground was littered with the bones of small animals—rats, cats, and occasionally the remains of a fox.

The walls were inlaid with glowing emeralds, casting a sickly halo.

But the most striking feature is the enormous Salazar Slytherin statue in the center of the chamber—its stern face looks down on the intruders, and its stone eyes seem to gleam with genuine malice.

Carlo was about to take a step forward when he suddenly froze.

A sound came from the bottom of the statue—a slow, rhythmic rustling of scales, like a giant python shedding its skin.

Then came the sound of liquid dripping, which was particularly clear in the silent, enclosed room.

"Who's there?" Carlo drew his silver dagger, his voice sharper than he'd expected. "Come out! I know someone—"

His words came to an abrupt end.

The shadow beside the statue's base suddenly began to undulate, and a colossal creature slowly emerged from the darkness.

First came the smell—a stench of rotting flesh and venom that assaulted Carlo's senses, causing his stomach to cramp.

Next came a pair of eyes, which shone with two yellow lights in the darkness, their pupils as thin as knife edges.

Finally, there was the body, which was a giant snake, but much larger than any snake in nature.

Its trunk is as thick as an oak tree, and its dark green scales are covered with slime, shimmering with an oily luster under the light of emeralds.

Carlo's legs began to tremble.

He had seen many terrifying things—Dementors, giant spiders, even maddened unicorns—but this creature before him froze him to the bone.

This is the Basilisk, the legendary Basilisk, Salazar Slytherin's ultimate weapon.

"I...I came to help," the werewolf stammered, taking a pendant from his pocket. "My master sent me...to feed you..."

Fenrir said that with this thing around, the things in the secret room won't harm themselves!

The basilisk slowly raised its head, which was as big as a wine barrel.

Its forked tongue flicked out, trembling in the air, capturing Carlo's scent.

Upon seeing the pendant, the basilisk abruptly stopped its attack.

Then those yellow eyes locked onto the other person, their pupils contracting into two thin, black lines.

The werewolf suddenly realized he had made a fatal mistake.

He shouldn't have looked directly into the basilisk's eyes. Legend has it that direct eye contact with the basilisk will result in instant death, while indirect eye contact will lead to petrification.

He instinctively closed his eyes, but it was too late.

Those eyes were already imprinted on his retina—yellow, cold, and filled with ancient malice.

Graybuck felt a chill spread from the back of his eyes to his entire body, as if someone had injected liquid nitrogen into his veins.

His heart jolted and then stopped beating.

In his final moments, the werewolf saw the basilisk open its blood-red maw, smelled the stench of decay, and heard the sound of his bones being crushed.

Then, darkness descended forever.

The basilisk used its tongue to move the pendant aside; it belonged to its previous owner.

But this person is now dead.

The basilisk slowly devoured the werewolf's corpse, enjoying this rare feast.

Human flesh and blood are always more nutritious than that of mice and cats, and this human also carries the magic of the moon, making him especially delicious.

But that's not enough... it's still hungry.

The huge snake's head turned to one side, and the tongue caught a new scent.

The scent of the Forbidden Forest drifted in through one of the ventilation shafts. There was more prey there: centaurs, unicorns, Thestrals... and those noisy, eight-eyed giant spiders.

The basilisk began to move, its scales scraping against the stone floor with a sickening sound.

It followed the scent to a drainage pipe—wide enough for its massive body to pass through.

Hunger drove it forward, toward the forbidden forest, toward more fresh flesh and blood.

After the basilisk left, the secret chamber returned to silence.

Only the werewolf's severed hand lay on the stone ground, his fingers still tightly gripping the silver dagger.