A sly smile tugged at Erwin's lips. "Professor, fancy watching the show?"
Snape paused, his eyes narrowing. "You mean...?"
Erwin nodded. "Exactly. Harry Potter and his friends are off to find Professor McGonagall, but I tipped her off earlier to dodge them. If things go to plan, Draco should be summoning you any minute now."
Snape's voice was dry. "They won't find me."
Erwin shrugged. "Of course not. So they'll have to settle for the next best thing—idiots."
A flicker of anticipation crossed Snape's face, lightening his usual scowl. He seemed almost eager for the chaos ahead.
"Shall we head over?" Erwin suggested.
Snape inclined his head. "Lead on. I'm curious about this Chamber of Secrets myself."
Erwin nodded, and Snape gripped his wrist. With a twist, Erwin Apparated them straight into the Chamber's dim depths.
Snape scanned the vast, shadowy space, his expression a mix of awe and disdain. "Incredible that Slytherin managed to conceal something like this."
Erwin chuckled. "Hogwarts is enormous—less than half of it's even mapped out properly. Secrets lurk everywhere, and even I've only scratched the surface. Lucky for us, this one's smack in Slytherin territory, or I might've missed it entirely."
Snape's gaze sharpened. "Where's the basilisk?"
Erwin jerked his chin toward a shadowed alcove. "In there. I kept it contained—its petrifying stare is no joke. But I've instructed it to avert its eyes when the students arrive. Charlotte's got goggles ready for them too. Worst case, a glance means petrification, not death."
Snape nodded curtly, satisfied.
"Godfather," Erwin continued, pointing to a nearby ledge, "I've enchanted some chairs up there—prime viewing spot. I'll fetch Professor McGonagall and the others. Soon enough, we'll see the young witches and wizards take on the beast."
Snape's mouth twitched, as if suppressing a smirk. He wasn't entirely sure about teaming up with Erwin like this. The boy's motives felt less like noble guidance and more like gleeful entertainment. But retreat wasn't an option now.
Erwin vanished with a crack.
He reappeared moments later, towing Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Sprout onto the ledge. Four cushioned chairs awaited, arranged on a perfectly leveled slab of stone—spacious, unobstructed, and angled for the best sightlines.
The professors, all first-timers in the Chamber, gazed around in wonder.
Flitwick squeaked in delight. "Merlin's beard! I had no idea Hogwarts hid something this grand."
McGonagall nodded, her lips pursed. "I always pictured the Chamber as a mere cubbyhole. This is vast."
Sprout beamed. "Erwin's sharp eye turned up this gem ahead of time—perfect for hands-on training. After last year's scrapes, the students' spellwork has sharpened noticeably."
Erwin waved off the praise. "Professors, enough chatter. Take a seat. The house-elves stocked some refreshments—firewhisky for the grown-ups, butterbeer for the rest. We can sip and score their performance. I'll just pop over to brief the other star of the show."
The Heads of House exchanged glances but settled in. Erwin's pitch had hooked them: real combat observation meant pinpointing weaknesses, refining lessons, and boosting House points. Practical magic demanded practice, after all.
Erwin slipped away to the basilisk's lair. The massive serpent stirred at his approach, slithering forward to nudge his hand affectionately.
Erwin scratched its scaled head. "Good to see you too. Play nice out there. Once this wraps, you'll ship out of Hogwarts—I'll line up a cozy spot for you."
The basilisk dipped its head in a serpentine nod, hissing softly.
Erwin shook his head. "No can do. You're enormous now; I can't have you coiled around me like a scarf. Space is tight. Relax—I'll arrange a keeper. But watch those eyes in the future. One direct look, and it's lights out for someone."
It hissed again, a plaintive rumble, scales drooping in mock sulkiness.
"I get it—it's your nature," Erwin soothed. "This is just a breather. You'll stretch your coils soon enough. And ease up on the feasting; you've bulked up more than you've lengthened!"
The basilisk hung its head, abashed.
"Fine," Erwin relented. "I'll layer on some Shield Charms to keep you safe. Wouldn't want you lashing out in pain and biting off more than you can chew—literally."
He extended his wandless hand, murmuring incantations. Shimmering Protego barriers flickered across the basilisk's hide, vanishing seamlessly into its scales. Upgraded charms made the concealment effortless; otherwise, the glow would've given them away.
Erwin exhaled, satisfied. He clapped once. "Got it? No fatalities."
The basilisk nodded solemnly.
"Showtime's nearing," Erwin said. "They'll burst in any second. Strike a pose."
With that, he Apparated back to the ledge and sank into his chair beside Snape.
"All set?" Snape murmured.
Erwin grinned. "Flawlessly. No worries."
His eyes drifted to the entrance tunnel. A thrill built in his chest—he couldn't wait to see seventeen-year-old Tom Riddle's ghost face a full assault from the four Houses. Last year had been a skirmish; this promised an all-out brawl, with students from every House pitching in. Not quite a war, but the sheer numbers were daunting.
That's why the Shield Charms on the basilisk—its innate magical resistance might not hold against a horde. As the old saying went, enough determined foes could topple even a giant.
Meanwhile, in the girls' bathroom...
The cramped space brimmed with young witches and wizards, wands at the ready. Moaning Myrtle hovered overhead, her translucent form quivering with indignation.
"Heavens above!" she wailed. "Are you lot mad? Storming the girls' loo like this—trying to muscle in on my haunt? I might be dead, but you still think you can push me around?"
...
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