Attack Targets

Rumours that Harry was the true heir of the Chamber of Secrets quickly spread throughout the castle.

The next morning at breakfast, when Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall, the previously bustling chatter seemed to have been hit by a Silencing Charm, abruptly dying down.

Countless gazes—curious, fearful, even openly hateful—wrapped around Harry like an icy spiderweb.

Wherever he went, students hurriedly backed away as if avoiding a Dementor. At the Ravenclaw table, several younger girls whispered fearfully and huddled together.

"How can they be like this?" Harry shoved away the plate before him, and the metal cutlery scraped harshly across the long table.

"I was saving people! I stopped that snake!"

"We know, Harry. We completely believe you." Hermione anxiously pressed a hand to his arm, trying to calm him down, but her own tightly furrowed brow gave away her inner anxiety.

Ron struggled to swallow a piece of bacon, his voice muffled. "We understand, Harry. But to everyone else, that hissing sound you made... they'll only think you were ordering it to do something even more terrible. Now everyone's convinced you're the heir. The next target to be petrified could appear at any moment."

The feeling of being misunderstood by the entire world gnawed at Harry like venom. Anger and grievance crashed about in his chest, yet he could find no outlet for them.

Their previous investigation had hit a dead end, and their surveillance of Professor Lin had yielded nothing. Frustration was nearly drowning all three of them.

However, not everyone was keeping their distance.

Fred and George Weasley swaggered over and gave Harry a hearty slap on the back.

"Don't listen to those idiots, Harry!" Fred said loudly, making sure everyone nearby could hear.

"We think it's brilliant! Parseltongue! What a rare talent!"

"Exactly," George added, shooting challenging looks at those avoiding their gaze. "Next time, could you talk to the eels in the kitchen and get them to jump into our pies voluntarily?"

Their exaggerated joke was like a glimmer of light, temporarily driving away the gloom in Harry's heart.

Even Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff stopped when he passed their table and said gently to Harry, "Don't take it too much to heart, Potter. A lot of people are just scared and need someone to blame."

His trust was subtle, but immensely precious.

That little warmth made Harry feel somewhat better, but the central problem remained unresolved.

"Maybe... we've been focusing on the wrong place." Hermione set down her goblet of pumpkin juice, her voice filled with helplessness.

"We've followed Professor Lin for so many days. Apart from preparing lessons, doing research, and interacting normally with the other professors, he hasn't done anything. With his abilities, if he really were the heir of the Chamber of Secrets, he probably would have gone after a Muggle-born like me long ago."

Ron slumped onto the table in defeat. "So our surveillance was completely useless?"

"At least it proves he's unlikely to be the heir of the Chamber of Secrets." Hermione pulled herself together. "But we have another clear suspect."

Ron blinked in confusion. "Who?"

"Malfoy." Hermione lowered her voice further and leaned forward, nearly reaching across the table. "Not only can he use Serpent's Unleashed, he's also been spreading rumours that he's the heir. If we can get close to him and become someone he trusts, we could get information out of him..."

Harry and Ron stared at her blankly, clearly unable to follow her train of thought.

"How are we supposed to get close? Malfoy bristles the moment he sees us coming near him," Ron said in confusion.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I read about a potion... an extremely complicated, incredibly dangerous potion that students are strictly forbidden from using—Polyjuice Potion. If you drink it, you can become someone else for a certain period of time."

"Polyjuice Potion?" Harry repeated. "Where did you see that? Moste Potente Potions? Isn't that book in the Restricted Section?"

A barely noticeable flash of pride crossed Hermione's face, but it was quickly replaced by seriousness. "Yes. I... I asked Percy to borrow it for me."

"Percy?!" Ron was so startled he nearly knocked over his milk. "He helped you borrow a book from the Restricted Section? He's usually as strict with his own brothers as a second Professor McGonagall!"

"That's the... understanding between good students, Ron." Hermione raised her chin slightly. "When you say you need to consult materials for 'in-depth academic research,' Percy is more than happy to help. He probably thinks I'm preparing some remarkable essay."

Ron rolled his eyes and muttered, "Hypocrite."

"That's not the point," Hermione said, steering the conversation back. "Brewing Polyjuice Potion is extremely complicated. It takes a month, and many of the ingredients are very rare. One of the most crucial—African Tree Snake Skin—is something only one person at Hogwarts keeps in large quantities..."

Harry and Ron both went pale at once. They both knew what that name meant.

"Snape," Harry said dryly. "His private stores."

"That's right." Hermione nodded heavily. "We have to steal it from Snape's office."

Ron's face instantly turned as white as the milky porridge in front of him.

"Think about yesterday! Think about the way he was at the Duelling Club! If he catches us, he'll toss all three of us straight into a cauldron and brew us into potions! I'd bet he wouldn't even furrow his brow!"

At the mention of Snape and his terrifying strength, all three of them shuddered.

The grim memories of the underground classroom and the ghostlike speed with which Snape had acted the night before made the danger of this plan rise exponentially.

A silence settled over them.

Breaking into Snape's territory was undoubtedly suicidal.

But...

Harry looked around at the averted eyes, the whispered conversations, and Justin's fleeing figure...

If they did nothing, things would only get worse.

He raised his head, determination blazing in his eyes once more. "We have no other choice, do we?"

Hermione nodded heavily.

Ron let out a groan and buried his face in his hands, but in the end, he did not object again.

Meanwhile, in the headmaster's office.

Dumbledore gazed calmly through his half-moon spectacles at a silver vessel on the desk. The wisps of smoke rising from it faintly showed Harry and the other two whispering together in the Great Hall.

"Appropriate pressure is sometimes the best catalyst. It can prompt a seed to break through hard soil," he said gently to Lin Du, who sat opposite him.

"You see, they have not been crushed. They are looking for a new way forward."

Lin Du took a sip of black tea without comment. "The resilience of young people is indeed admirable.

"Still, they have devoted some of their energy from 'finding a way forward' to me. It has given me a few inconspicuous little tails whenever I take walks around the castle these past few days."

A teasing smile flickered in Dumbledore's eyes.

Lin Du set down his teacup, his expression turning serious. "Headmaster, although the Diary has been dealt with, we cannot keep letting the Basilisk remain a hidden danger in Hogwarts' pipes. When do you intend to resolve this problem completely?"

"Christmas break."

Dumbledore answered without hesitation. "When most of the students have left the castle and it stands empty, that will be the best time for Harry to act. But before then..."

A hint of mischief flashed in his blue eyes. "We still need a few 'victims' to maintain the necessary tension."

Lin Du raised an eyebrow. "You already have candidates? Surely no one would actually volunteer to be petrified by the Basilisk? It cannot be a pleasant experience."

A mysterious smile appeared at the corner of Dumbledore's lips. Rather than answer directly, he turned toward the office's magnificent oak door and raised his voice slightly.

"I think it is time. Please come in, Sir Nicholas."

Lin Du turned around with mild curiosity.

The office door silently slid open, and a pearly white, translucent figure drifted gracefully inside—

He wore a ruff around his neck and a feathered hat, though his head hung somewhat awkwardly to one side.

It was Nearly Headless Nick.