Chapter 16: The Long Year - Part 1
September brought news that made Adam's heart clench with familiar helpless rage. The Daily Prophet's headline blazed across his morning like a declaration of war: "STUDENT CAT PETRIFIED AT HOGWARTS—Chamber of Secrets Opened!"
Mrs. Norris. The basilisk's first victim. The beginning of a crisis Adam had known was coming for months but couldn't prevent.
He sat in his Knockturn Alley room, staring at the accompanying photograph of the petrified cat, and felt something crack inside his chest. It had started exactly as his transmigrated memories predicted: Ginny Weasley possessed by Tom Riddle's diary, sleepwalking through corridors while an ancient monster hunted at her unconscious command.
"I know what's happening. I know who's in danger. And I can do nothing."
Adam grabbed parchment and began writing frantically: "The basilisk is controlled by—"
But the curse turned his words to gibberish before they could reach the page: "The PURPLE SINGING DIARY BANANA is controlled by—DANCING TEAPOT POSSESSED—"
He crumpled the letter and threw it across the room, magical energy crackling unconsciously around his hands. A potion bottle on his shelf exploded, fifty SP worth of inventory reduced to sparkling fragments.
"Can't save everyone, kid."
Adam spun to find Old Tom standing in his doorway, the homeless veteran's weathered face carrying understanding that cut deeper than sympathy.
"Some battles aren't yours to fight," Tom continued quietly.
"But I know what's happening," Adam said, his voice cracking with frustration. "I could help them if—"
"If what? If you could speak the truth?" Tom settled heavily in Adam's single chair. "Sometimes knowing ain't enough. Sometimes you gotta find other ways to matter."
"Other ways. There have to be other ways."
The weeks that followed brought a consuming obsession with basilisk countermeasures. Adam purchased everything the System Shop offered: Ancient Serpents - 200 SP, Protective Amulets - 500 SP, Parseltongue Recognition - 300 SP. He couldn't speak the snake language, but he could learn to recognize it, understand its rhythms and cadences.
His room became a war room covered in notes and diagrams. Basilisks killed with direct eye contact, petrified through reflections, feared roosters above all else—their crow was fatal to the ancient serpents. They were immune to most magic but vulnerable to specific counters: mirrors to redirect their gaze, closed eyes to survive encounters, and always, always the importance of not looking directly at them.
Adam practiced defensive spells obsessively. Protego variations that could potentially deflect a basilisk's stare. Conjuring mirrors with Transfiguration basics purchased for 400 SP. Even Episkey Advanced - 500 SP for theoretical petrification reversal, though he prayed he'd never need to test that particular skill.
[LEVEL UP! LEVEL 4 ACHIEVED]
[NEW STATS: HP 140, MP 300]
The achievement felt hollow when students were being attacked. Power without purpose was just another form of helplessness.
December brought the news that shattered Adam's remaining composure: "SECOND STUDENT PETRIFIED—Muggle-born First-Year Attacked!"
Colin Creevey's photograph stared out from the Prophet's front page—a cheerful boy holding a camera, frozen in magical stone with his eyes wide with terror. Eleven years old. The same age Adam had been when this nightmare began.
"He's petrified because I couldn't warn anyone. Because I can't speak the truth that would save him."
Adam punched the wall of his room, bones cracking against stone. The pain was nothing compared to the agony of knowledge without voice, of watching disaster unfold while being powerless to prevent it.
[HP: 125/140]
He used Episkey on his bleeding knuckles and tried again. Writing to the Ministry—gibberish. Anonymous tips to the Prophet—gibberish. Attempting to hire someone to deliver a message—they thought he was insane when the words emerged as nonsense.
Failure after failure after failure.
[MISSION AVAILABLE: ENTER HOGWARTS BY ANY MEANS]
[REWARD: 10,000 SP]
Adam laughed bitterly at the System's offer. He'd been trying to find a way into the castle for over a year. It wasn't a matter of willingness—it was a matter of impossibility. But the mission's appearance meant the System believed it was achievable. He just needed to discover the method.
Christmas brought magical snow and glittering lights to Diagon Alley, but the atmosphere remained tense. Parents whispered about withdrawing their children from Hogwarts. Businesses suffered as fear spread through the magical community. Adam watched it all from his stall, richer than he'd ever imagined (6,000 Galleons saved, business thriving) and stronger than ever (Level 4, multiple spells mastered), but no closer to where he needed to be.
Then, just after New Year's Day, he saw something that made his pulse quicken with possibility.
A notice posted outside the Ministry office building, visible through the Leaky Cauldron's back courtyard: "Junior Clerk Positions Available—Applications Accepted. Immediate Start for Qualified Candidates."
"Ministry access means information. Documents. Possibly even Hogwarts visitor credentials."
It was a long shot. The application process would require background checks that might not hold up to scrutiny. The work would be menial, the pay negligible compared to his merchant profits. But it offered something his business couldn't: legitimate access to the magical government's inner workings.
And in a world where information was power, that access might be worth any risk.
Adam closed his stall early that day and began planning his most ambitious infiltration yet. If he couldn't reach Hogwarts as a student or a merchant, perhaps he could find another path entirely.
The System chimed softly: [NEW MISSION AVAILABLE: INFILTRATE MINISTRY OF MAGIC]
[REWARD: 2,500 SP]
Adam smiled grimly and accepted the mission. Time to become a civil servant.
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