The Thestral-drawn carriage moved steadily through the Hogwarts grounds.
Dana was quite sure that the Twins and Lee Jordan couldn't see the Thestrals. The one on the left, in particular, was clearly suffering from an upset stomach—periodically spewing green, half-digested matter into the air. Yet the three of them were still enthusiastically discussing how Gryffindor Quidditch would definitely win the championship this year. If they could see the revolting scene just ahead, Dana was certain they wouldn't be so composed.
"Win the championship? What a novel thought! We've got the two best Seekers in all of Hogwarts," Fred declared. "As long as Harry doesn't have an accident, we'll win. Not to mention—we've got Dana as backup!"
Lee Jordan chuckled and shook his head.
"If you ask me, Dana should be our starting Seeker. If that happens, I don't think any house team could even come close."
"That won't do!" the Twins exclaimed in unison.
Fred spoke first. "If Dana becomes the Seeker, Harry will be sad."
George followed up, "Besides, Dana's matches always end in just a few seconds. There's no fun in that."
Fred nodded with agreement. "Yeah, I don't want to just march onto the field, do nothing, and have the game be over in under a minute—"
"No sense of participation at all!" George finished.
As they bantered, Dana—now a second-year—had arrived at the castle. He went straight to the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.
There was nothing particularly unusual about this year's opening feast.
After the Sorting Hat did its job, Dumbledore followed tradition by introducing the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
There were only two truly noteworthy things about the evening: first, Lockhart was evidently a popular author with an enormous fan base—the applause that greeted him was thunderous. Second, Dana was the object of fascination for many new first-years.
After all, he was Dana Emrys—the Quidditch prodigy.
The fastest Snitch-catcher in Hogwarts history.
So, throughout the Great Hall, all eyes kept drifting to two places: the staff table where Lockhart beamed and posed, and the Gryffindor table where Dana sat, oblivious to all the attention.
The seats around Dana were quickly filled by curious first-years. Colin Creevey even sat directly across from him, snapping photos constantly. A die-hard Harry Potter fan, Colin seemed to have forgotten his usual idol tonight.
It wasn't that Colin didn't want to take pictures of Harry. It's just that Mr. Potter and Ron Weasley were, at that moment, tangled up in the branches of the Whomping Willow—looking thoroughly stunned after being tossed out by the Weasleys' flying car.
Dana, however, seemed distracted. He ate slowly, gazing up at the starry ceiling of the Great Hall. Even when the Twins tried speaking to him, he only gave half-hearted replies.
"Fred, what's up with Dana? He was fine earlier," George whispered.
"No idea," Fred replied. "We'll ask him later."
After the feast, Dana lingered behind the crowd, not watching where he was going. His eyes stayed fixed on the castle's walls and ceilings, as if studying them.
"Dana!"
George clapped Dana on the shoulder suddenly—and got more than he bargained for. Dana reflexively cast a Shield Charm, sending George flying back a few feet.
Fred rushed forward as George sat up, looking more delighted than injured.
"Oh wow, so Shield Charms can launch people? That's amazing!" George laughed.
Dana blinked, finally snapping out of his daze. "Sorry, George! I didn't know it was you."
"No worries. I surprised you first."
Fred leaned in, concerned. "Dana, you've been staring at the castle walls all night. What are you looking at?"
Dana pointed at the intricate patterns etched into the left wall, his expression filled with awe.
"Hogwarts is truly a treasure," he said with reverence.
The Twins exchanged confused glances.
Dana elaborated, "See these patterns? Most people would think they're just decorative. But if you know anything about magical arrays, you'd recognize this—this is a power supply line. The entire castle is like a finely-tuned machine."
He paused, realizing his analogy might be lost on them. "Sorry—you probably don't know much about machines—"
Fred cut in proudly. "No, no! We do! When Dad took apart that flying car, we helped! Muggle machines are fascinating."
"It's just a pity about the car," George added. "Our good brother lost it."
Dana nodded. "Muggle machines are impressive, sure—but Hogwarts… Hogwarts is over a thousand years old. And it's layered with magic arrays more complex than any Muggle invention I've seen."
"That's for sure," George said. "We've been exploring Hogwarts for years, and we still don't know half of it."
Suddenly, Dana slapped his forehead as if remembering something important.
"Oh right—the Marauder's Map. It's useless to me now. You two can have it."
He pulled out a worn parchment and handed it over.
"Dana, you're too generous!" the Twins chorused. They took the map eagerly, eyes sparkling with excitement.
Then, they exchanged a glance, already itching to run off and explore.
Dana smirked knowingly.
"Bring me some food later, will you? I'm saving it for tomorrow's breakfast."
"Huh? Why?" Fred asked.
"I'd advise you to do the same," Dana said. "Trust me—you really don't want to be in the Great Hall tomorrow morning."
The Twins looked at each other. "Wait... You mean—"
"Yes," Dana said seriously. "After that scene with the flying car? Do you think your mom's going to skip sending a Howler?"
That did it.
The Twins burst out laughing.
"No way we'd miss that!" George howled.
"Dana, we'll get your food," Fred promised. "But we wouldn't miss tomorrow's drama for the world!"
The new term began smoothly.
Well, aside from Lockhart's ridiculous classes—those were a category of their own.
Though Dana was slowly being accepted by his classmates, he still stood out. When he wasn't in class or eating, he was in the library or roaming the castle, examining its magical structures. He'd spend hours just walking through corridors, tracing invisible lines of power, admiring the brilliance behind Hogwarts' construction.
There was another student who didn't quite fit in either—Ginny Weasley.
Though she would grow into a strong, confident witch later in life, for now she was still shy and awkward. Failing to connect well with her peers, she had, unfortunately, become attached to a certain mysterious diary.
One evening in early October, Ginny slipped silently out of the Gryffindor common room and headed toward the second-floor girls' bathroom.
Though she was only a first-year, she moved as if she'd walked these paths her whole life. Navigating through secret passages, she avoided detection by portraits or even the castle's resident ghosts. She passed unnoticed—like a shadow.
When she reached the familiar faucet, she spoke softly.
"Hiss hiss hiss…"
The Parseltongue password was spoken flawlessly.
The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, sealed for fifty years, opened once again. Without hesitation, Ginny dove into the pitch-black chute.
Down in the Chamber, she stood before the enormous statue of Salazar Slytherin.
Her eyes glowing unnaturally, she whispered once more in Parseltongue:
"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the four founders!"
The statue's mouth creaked open slowly, just like before.
But nothing happened.
No Basilisk slithered out.
Ginny—more accurately, Tom Riddle, who now controlled her—frowned in frustration. He waited a while longer. Still nothing.
"Where is it?" he muttered darkly. "Did it... sneak out?"
The soul fragment of the sixteen-year-old Riddle controlling Ginny was confused, even worried. Could the Basilisk have… died of old age?
It was absurd.
But there was no other explanation.
Of course, he didn't know the truth: the creature had been slain the previous year.
Oddly enough, Ron Weasley had never mentioned it—not to his family, not even to his mother. Perhaps the memory had faded; after all, he'd only heard about it secondhand from Harry.
And Ron had other things to worry about—like Hermione constantly being praised as a "perfect child" compared to him. If his mother learned there was someone even more exceptional at school—someone like Dana—Ron might not have survived the lectures.
Though over the summer Dana had completely won over Mrs. Weasley, Ron had long since stopped dwelling on the Basilisk incident.
And so, in the depths of the Chamber, Riddle was left to stew in confusion.
Where was his monster?
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