You came at just the right time

As soon as Brian stepped out of Dumbledore's office, he realized what was going on-the old man suspected that the bathroom Moaning Myrtle haunted contained the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets built by Slytherin, through that peculiar copper faucet engraved with a little snake.

"If we really find the Chamber of Secrets, what will you do?" The more Brian thought about it, the more reasonable that suspicion seemed. "Should I go invite a few gentlemen roosters to join our operation first?"

If the bathroom really was the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, and they succeeded in opening it shortly, the Basilisk that might be inside would pose an enormous threat-sometimes, a rooster's crow could prove more useful than Dumbledore's formidable magic.

"Nothing is certain yet, Chet." Dumbledore had also begun using Brian's given name, and sounded rather pleased as he spoke. "We mustn't bring our gentlemen roosters out for nothing. They need to conserve their strength for tomorrow morning's crowing."

"All right." Brian nodded. He took Dumbledore's explanation to mean that he did not want to make too much of a fuss-

Voldemort might very well be hiding at Hogwarts. He spoke Parseltongue and could command a Basilisk, and there was a strong chance he had dealt with the one in the Chamber of Secrets before-perhaps the chamber had already been opened in secret, and the Basilisk was lurking somewhere, itching to strike.

On the way to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, Brian told Dumbledore about ancient magic in fits and starts. Dumbledore, meanwhile, played the perfect attentive listener, nodding and smiling at intervals and providing all the encouragement Brian could ask for.

Yet his composure remained astonishingly steady, as though Brian's statement, "My Book spent an entire afternoon pouring a vast amount of knowledge into my head," had actually been, "I had biscuits this morning and apple tart at noon, and I'm planning to have sandwiches for dinner."

"Did I not explain it clearly enough? I thought you'd at least be a little taken aback," Brian said, his enthusiasm fading. "Would you mind telling me when you last experienced a strong surge of emotion?"

"Half an hour ago." Sparks of amusement danced in Dumbledore's eyes. "When my wine cellar was restocked."

"And the time before that?" a passing Gryffindor student ventured to ask. "Good evening, Professor Dumbledore. Good evening, Mr. Brian."

"Good evening, Lee Jordan," Brian greeted him easily.

He remembered that this student often shared a table with the Weasley Twins in the library and got along well with them-the twins could not behave even in detention, and had successfully extended their punishment with a generous handful of Stink Pellets.

Strictly speaking, this was no time for chatting. The matter of the Chamber of Secrets was urgent, but neither he nor Dumbledore could show the slightest sign that anything was amiss-who knew what outlandish guesses might spring up in the students' little heads?

Dumbledore turned slightly with a smile. Without any visible movement on his part, all the conspicuous dusty marks on Lee Jordan's robes vanished:

"When someone drank my wine cellar dry. Lee Jordan, I'm looking forward to your splendid commentary at the Quidditch match the day after tomorrow."

"What? Do you mean you'll be there too?" Lee Jordan, completely oblivious to his newly cleaned robes, cried out in delight. "Gryffindor's chances of winning just went up again!"

"Perhaps I will, perhaps I won't," Dumbledore said with a smile. "But I believe Gryffindor's and Slytherin's courage and wisdom will not change simply because an old man is or isn't present. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Absolutely," Lee Jordan said smugly. "But I have to say, if you don't come, you'll probably regret it afterward-it'll be the match debut of the youngest Seeker in nearly a hundred years!"

"Hmph! Is that so?" Another passerby, an older Slytherin student, stopped in his tracks and looked ready to shout his throat raw. With Dumbledore and Brian present, however, he merely said coldly, "Just you wait!"

"I won't just be watching. I'll be commentating too," Lee Jordan shot back without hesitation. "Mate, make sure you wash your face properly over the next few days. I'll be telling everyone over the microphone just how red it is."

"Oh? You mean because I'll be beside myself with excitement after our house wins?" The Slytherin student raised an eyebrow.

Dumbledore watched the two students' increasingly heated exchange with interest, while Brian offered a reminder:

"All right, you two. You can find somewhere less crowded to carry on your debate. Remember, no swearing, and certainly no fighting."

According to Professor Sprout, there was only one circumstance in which Gryffindor and Slytherin students met without bickering-when they unfortunately ran into each other while sneaking around at night, with Filch prowling nearby.

After seeing off the two students, who intended to have a thorough discussion beside the Black Lake, Brian and Dumbledore continued on their way. Brian took the opportunity to pull the Book from his pocket and show it to Dumbledore:

"A very well-behaved Book, and my instructor in accelerated magic lessons-it swallowed two strange stone fragments yesterday, and it's looked stuffed ever since. Book, would you like an experienced, powerful wizard to give you a checkup?"

The Book flapped unhappily, then began slowly inching toward Brian's pocket-Brian was delighted that the Book could move on its own now. Perhaps taking it out for a walk today had helped bring that about.

"This Book is very loyal to you." At last, an almost imperceptible trace of surprise appeared in Dumbledore's eyes, and he adjusted his glasses. "The magical fluctuations it gives off are quite steady. Don't worry, Brian. As you said, it has probably just overeaten."

"That's a relief. Rest well, good Book." Brian returned the Book to his pocket, then asked Dumbledore, "Do you have any ideas about that stone I mentioned?"

Before Dumbledore could say anything, Brian suddenly caught an increasingly strong smell of garlic. Then Professor Quirrell emerged from around a corner with his head down. The sight of Dumbledore and Brian threw him into a panic-

He made an awkward turn, as though intending to leave immediately, but managed, with difficulty, to suppress the impulse.

Quirrell approached slowly, raising both hands to his chest and fidgeting aimlessly. His mouth hung open as though he wanted to say something but could not get it out. A few beads of sweat trickled down his forehead before he forced out:

"S-stone?"

Brian could not help feeling nervous on his behalf-he wondered whether he ought to remove Professor Quirrell from his list of suspects. Could such a timid Professor Quirrell really be Voldemort's accomplice? Wouldn't the sight of an Acromantula scare him out of his wits?

What did Dumbledore have in mind? Brian quietly watched the old man beside him for his reaction.

"Don't be nervous, Quirinus," Dumbledore said very kindly. "You came at just the right time-Chet and I are looking for the Chamber of Secrets that Slytherin built in secret. Would you care to lend a hand?"