The three of them walked straight into the abandoned girls' bathroom.
With Dumbledore himself backing them, what could the prefects or professors possibly do—dock points from the Headmaster?
Moaning Myrtle wasn't around at the moment; she'd probably floated off to visit someone. That didn't matter. It wasn't as if they needed her to open anything—frankly, her hypersensitive, self-pitying personality made talking to her utterly exhausting.
"The Headmaster has been here, right? Did you find anything unusual?" Louis asked.
"If you mean the serpent-shaped mark on the tap, then yes, I noticed it," Dumbledore replied. "But I couldn't open it. It ignores magical force entirely. Salazar certainly put a lot of effort into it—likely only Parseltongue can open it."
Dumbledore's gaze shifted to Harry.
"Harry, would you like to give it a try?"
"Try? Try what?" Harry was dumbfounded. He was just a second-year; could the adults speak in a way he could actually understand? He genuinely had no idea what he was supposed to do.
"Just pretend there's a snake in front of you. However you talk to snakes, talk to this," Louis reminded him. "Say something like 'open,' 'unlock,' 'open the door,' that sort of thing."
Harry nodded blankly, looked at the tap engraved with the serpent, and opened his mouth.
A hoarse, grating, uncanny sound came out of his throat. It clearly wasn't a language belonging to any human civilization—normal humans couldn't even produce such noises.
But Harry didn't realize anything was strange about his voice; to him, he was simply saying what he meant to say.
As his voice echoed, the solid, self-repairing sink slowly unfurled.
A pitch-black shaft yawned open before the three of them, exuding a chilling breath. It looked bottomless, like a gaping abyss.
"How are we supposed to get down?" Harry leaned over the opening, his voice trembling.
Without absolute necessity, who in their right mind would voluntarily jump into something like that?
"We fly down, of course." Louis grabbed Harry's shoulder, then looked at Dumbledore. "Headmaster, are you going down on your own, or should I help you?"
"At a time like this, a Cushioning Charm would do perfectly well. I assume both of you have learned it?" Dumbledore said mildly. He neither chanted nor drew his wand; he merely pointed a finger at himself.
"There we are," he said calmly.
"Then Headmaster, you float down slowly. We'll go first." Louis nodded and immediately hauled Harry into the hole.
Harry had zero mental preparation before a soul-separating plunge sensation hit him. He screamed at the top of his lungs without meaning to.
His shrieks echoed violently through the shaft.
Dumbledore's old face twitched, and he stepped in after them—unhurried, unbothered.
A Cushioning Charm, of course, was not the same as what Louis had described. It didn't make you float; it merely softened your landing. What Louis was referring to was the Levitation Charm.
But even without any slowing effect, Dumbledore still took far longer to fall than Louis.
Because Louis—utterly unhinged—had used telekinesis to accelerate their descent. Otherwise Harry wouldn't have screamed like he was being murdered.
He was the star Seeker of Gryffindor, after all. How could he possibly be scared of a little falling acceleration?
By the time Dumbledore reached the bottom, Harry had already recovered from the near-death experience.
It had felt exactly like the moment he grabbed the Golden Snitch for the very first time—hurtling straight downward and pulling up at the last second before smashing into the ground.
Except last time, it had been his own choice, under his own control. This time, he had no control at all, and that terrified him to pieces.
Just like how someone with god-tier driving skills still gets sweaty palms when riding shotgun in someone else's speeding car—because they're not the one in control, and they don't trust the driver.
Fortunately, Harry was used to high-speed antics, so he recovered quickly.
"Alright, the Headmaster's here. Let's keep moving," Louis said, signaling Harry as the three of them continued down the passage.
There was only a single route leading to the Chamber of Secrets—no fancy, confusing side paths—so they reached the end rather quickly.
A thick, heavy metal door stood before them. This was the very door that had stopped Louis from exploring the Chamber last time.
"Alright, Harry. It's your turn again." Louis patted Harry's shoulder.
Tool-boy Harry nodded dutifully and, with practiced ease, hissed Parseltongue at the door.
The serpents engraved upon it slithered along the metal in a circle, and the door slowly opened.
This time, Dumbledore held Louis and Harry back.
"I'll go first," he said, drawing the Elder Wand and stepping into the Chamber.
The moment they entered, the first thing they felt was the damp, icy chill.
It seemed connected to some underground waterway—or perhaps even directly to the Black Lake.
A long stone walkway stretched across the water like a bridge, and on either side rose countless carved serpent heads, half-submerged and staring like stern sentinels watching all who entered.
Despite being called a "chamber," this place wasn't a small room at all—it was a vast underground cavern hollowed out into a grand hall.
There were no traps or dangerous mechanisms. With a basilisk as a guard, anything else would just be cumbersome.
And the basilisk was long dead; not even bones remained. So the place was perfectly safe now.
The three of them walked along the stone path to the deepest point of the Chamber—where an enormous human-faced statue loomed.
The statue was massive, at least five meters tall, its flowing beard sculpted with lifelike detail.
"This should be the statue of Salazar Slytherin," Dumbledore noted as he studied the giant face. "Yes… this is indeed the Chamber."
"But nothing's here," Harry said nervously, glancing around. "Wasn't there supposed to be a basilisk?"
"The basilisk is already dead. It's in the Forbidden Forest. You saw that meteor shower the other day, didn't you?" Dumbledore replied.
"That meteor shower?" Harry swallowed. "Headmaster… that was your magic?"
"No, it wasn't." Dumbledore shook his head. "That was Louis's magic."
"LOUIS!!?" Harry spun, stunned, staring at Louis—who was casually tapping on Slytherin's statue.
He had never expected that terrifying spell to come from someone his own age.
Sure, he already knew Louis was strong—the Duel Club incident alone had shown that. At first Harry thought Louis being able to trade blows evenly with Snape was impressive enough.
He never imagined Louis had been holding back.
That kind of spell… forget Snape, Harry suspected even Dumbledore might not be able to stop it.
Which made Harry—who still hadn't mastered a Disarming Charm—feel rather miserable by comparison.
"There's nothing here," Louis said, ignoring Dumbledore exposing his power. "Looks like the first person who opened the Chamber already took everything worth taking."
"That would be expected," Dumbledore nodded. "It seems there's no danger left here. But for safety's sake, this place should remain sealed. I trust neither of you will come back down here."
"Come here for what? Fishing?" Louis asked with a cheerful grin.
Harry also nodded quickly. This place was so dark and freezing, he wouldn't come back even if someone paid him.
"Whoever comes here again is a little puppy."
Harry said seriously, as if to prove his absolute determination never to return.
Louis's smile froze.
---