Hermione set her quill aside, glanced at the card signed in her neat, precise hand, and allowed herself the faintest smile. This year, Valentine's Day at Hogwarts had turned out far noisier and more unusual than she had expected. Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, it seemed, had set himself the goal of outdoing even himself.
From early morning, a grand surprise awaited the students in the Great Hall. The hall was filled with hearts made of pink and gold mist, and in the centre stood a gigantic rabbit, shimmering in every colour of the rainbow, its ears constantly twitching. According to Lockhart, it was 'an ancient symbol of affection and devotion.' Hermione almost pointed out that rabbits were usually associated with fertility, but bit her tongue, deciding that Lockhart was unlikely to appreciate such a technical detail.
Completing the scene were dozens of 'cupids', in reality gnomes in disguise, whom Lockhart had forced into costumes with ridiculous wings made of hippogriff feathers. They darted between the tables, scattering handfuls of glitter, stepping on robes and occasionally tripping over their own togas. Some of them croaked out love serenades in hoarse voices, managing to sing so badly that the figures in nearby portraits winced and covered their ears.
"Miss Granger, I hope your day is as magical as your knowledge!" one of them proclaimed cheerfully, handing Hermione a scroll with a rather odd rhymed message. Though it all struck her as excessive and even slightly ridiculous, she couldn't help admitting that the overall mood of the celebration was, in its own way, rather sweet.
Harry and Ron, Ron especially, thought it was absolute madness. In Hermione's view, that came down entirely to their bias against the professor. They simply refused to admit that a hero like Lockhart didn't have to save the world every day. He could just be a charming, pleasant person, which, as far as she was concerned, he was.
But the moment Hermione got to the library, her patience began to run out fast. The 'cupids', apparently under strict orders to deliver love messages quite literally anywhere, barged in even here. With a heavy sigh, Hermione tried to concentrate, ignoring one of them, a gnome with shabby little wings, who stomped past her table in sandals, clutching a heart-shaped letter.
"This is impossible," she muttered through clenched teeth, casting an irritated glance at the door, where yet another gnome came hurrying in.
"Love! Love! Oh, what a sweet pain it is!" he sang out enthusiastically.
She forced herself back to her reading, turning the pages of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them as she searched for information on verdilisks. Right at the very beginning of the book, she noticed an entry about a massive serpent.
Basilisk
M.M. Classification: XXXXX
The basilisk is a brilliant green serpent that may reach lengths of up to fifty feet. The male bears a distinctive scarlet crest upon its head.
The first recorded basilisk was bred by Herpo the Foul, a Greek Dark wizard and Parselmouth. After much experimentation, Herpo discovered that a chicken's egg hatched beneath a toad would produce a gigantic serpent endowed with extraordinary and highly dangerous powers.
Its fangs contain a deadly venom, but the basilisk's most fearsome weapon is the gaze of its large yellow eyes. Anyone who meets its stare is killed instantly.
Given sufficient food, consisting of mammals, birds, and most reptiles, the basilisk may live for many hundreds of years. It is said that Herpo's own specimen survived for over nine hundred years.
The creation of a basilisk has been illegal since medieval times. However, the process is easily concealed by simply removing the egg from beneath the toad if the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures should come to inspect. As only a Parselmouth can control a basilisk, the creature poses as great a danger to Dark wizards as to anyone else. No basilisk has been recorded in Britain for at least four hundred years.
Hermione carefully jotted down a brief note in her notebook, feeling that familiar, conflicting sensation, a mix of awe edged with fear and pure admiration. Creatures with an XXXXX classification were vanishingly rare, and studying them felt extraordinary in itself. For a moment, she thought she understood Hagrid a little better. There was something genuinely mesmerising about these creatures, ancient and frightening as they were.
She carried on, working her way methodically towards the letter V. At last, her eyes came to rest on the first heading under that letter:
Varanus, Fire-crested
M.M. Classification: XX
This rare lizard inhabits the hot savannahs of Africa and is known for its vivid, flame-red scales, which can deflect spells with a high degree of reliability.
Although the Fire-crested Varanus has little magical power of its own, it has gained a reputation as a loyal companion to wizards who practise fire magic, as its crest enhances spells of that kind.
Care should be taken when handling this creature. Its claws secrete a caustic substance capable of easily burning through clothing or wooden objects.
'Seamus Finnigan would probably appreciate a companion like that,' Hermione thought with a faint smile as she turned the page and came across the heading she had been looking for:
Verdilisk
M.M. Classification: XXXX
Verdilisks, also known as Swamp Verdilisks, are lizard-like creatures with broad, flattened snouts resembling those of a toad. Their skin is covered in mottled scales that blend seamlessly with the marsh environment, making them almost impossible to spot with the naked eye.
Their ability to camouflage themselves impresses even the most experienced magizoologists. Verdilisks can lie motionless for hours, disappearing completely into marsh vegetation or forest shadow. Their hearing is exceptionally sharp, capable of catching the faintest rustle. Sneaking up on them or catching them off guard is virtually impossible.
These creatures are highly aggressive and fiercely territorial. Anyone who crosses into their domain risks being attacked immediately. Verdilisks recognise intruders without fail and do not tolerate outsiders.
Their venomous spit poses a particular danger. On contact with skin, it can cause immediate paralysis and, in some cases, death. At the same time, verdilisks are almost entirely resistant to spells, making them extremely dangerous even for experienced wizards.
Fortunately, these creatures rarely leave their swamps. Encounters are therefore easy to avoid, provided one simply stays out of their territory.
'Brilliant advice,' Hermione thought with irritation, dropping her quill. 'What if that's exactly where I need to go?'
She found no answer to that question in the book. Still, she had learned something useful: verdilisks had exceptionally sharp hearing, which meant her backup plan with the Invisibility Cloak was completely useless.
'How am I supposed to get quicksol slime?' she wondered. 'And Foster is certain I can handle it!'
At that moment, a loud pop came from somewhere beyond the library wall, and another 'cupid' burst into the room. Hermione snapped her head up, narrowed her eyes, and pressed her lips together, barely holding back a stream of curses.
'This is too much,' she thought angrily, watching the gnome flapping its tiny wings in a ridiculous way. Its bulky robe of cheap fabric trailed along the floor, tangling around its feet.
Then she realised something was off. The gnome's 'wings' were singed, and it looked as though it had barely escaped death. It kept glancing back as if something were chasing it, then muttered something unintelligible and darted off between the shelves.
Hermione frowned. She stood, ignoring the pile of books and parchment sliding off the table and falling to the floor with a dull rustle, and headed for the exit. The moment she stepped outside, another pop rang out, louder this time, and a second gnome with the same singed wings rushed past her, panting hard. Its robe was torn, and its face was full of terror.
Hermione instantly drew her wand and, ready for a fight, moved forward slowly. She peered behind every column, every statue, anywhere someone might be hiding. Or something.
"Did you see the way he legged it?!" an excited voice cried, making Hermione jump and spin sharply towards the sound.
A second later, she realised the voice was all too familiar. She stepped decisively to the right.
"I reckon that one beat the previous record!" one of the Weasley twins went on, not even noticing they had an audience. "If we add just a bit more power to the blast —"
"What are you doing here?" Hermione burst out.
Her voice came out louder than she had intended and echoed off the stone walls. The twins, who had been completely absorbed in their 'project', flinched in unison and turned. Fred hastily hid something behind his back, while George looked at her with the most innocent expression he could manage.
"What is this supposed to be?" Hermione went on, pointing at a cloud of smoke and the remains of white feathers still drifting in the air. Her face was burning. "This is just… this is… this is outrageous!"
"No, no, Hermione," George replied briskly, raising a finger like a professor explaining an important point. "This isn't outrageous. That," he pointed off to where another winged gnome darted past in the distance, "that's outrageous. And we…"
"…we're just having a bit of fun. And, incidentally, helping the gnomes deliver their messages faster," Fred added, leaning casually against the nearest column.
"Helping?" Hermione stared at them as if they were two mad goblins. "You call this helping? Scaring the gnomes half to death, singeing their wings, and… and… ruining the whole celebration?"
"Hermione, you're being unfair," Fred put on an expression of offended disbelief. "We've just given them a bit of encouragement. Besides, we've known how to deal with gnomes since we were kids. At home, as you may recall, they go through an intensive course every year… er… in emergency evacuation from the garden."
"Yeah, and they're all the better for it afterwards," George added. "Just look how they run now!" He gestured to where the last gnome they had targeted had disappeared around the corner. "There's nothing wrong with it, Hermione. That's what we call real progress!"
Hermione rolled her eyes, but then Fred, forgetting himself, brought his hand out from behind his back, and her gaze instantly fixed on a tiny bundle of bright pink powder.
"And what's that?!"
Hermione snatched the bundle from his hands.
"Rapid Running Powder?" she read aloud.
"Well, strictly speaking," George began, scratching the back of his head, "it's an… improved version."
"Improved?" Hermione narrowed her eyes.
"We just added a couple of… er… details," Fred admitted. "For instance, we made it explode, so the training starts instantly!" He shot George a pleased grin. "That helps the gnomes reach their full potential!"
"You'll explain all this in Professor McGonagall's office!" Hermione snapped, pressing her lips together and glaring at the twins.
The Weasleys only exchanged glances, laughed, and, calling over their shoulders, "Happy Valentine's Day, Hermione!" quickly disappeared around the corner.
When their footsteps faded, Hermione let out a deep breath and cast an apologetic look towards where the last terrified gnome had vanished.
"Mad," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. "They're completely mad…"
She glanced back at the library, but didn't feel like going in. Everything she needed to know about verdilisks she already knew, and, unfortunately, it was no help to her at all.
***
The next day, Hermione, Harry, and Ron trudged slowly across the snow-covered courtyard. The air was cold and fresh, and the snow crunched softly under their feet.
"I felt like I was really there," Harry said, staring ahead. "Everything looked completely real… only no one could see or hear me."
"And all of that was shown to you by Riddle's diary?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. "I've read about things like that. There are even special devices for entering other people's memories, like a Pensieve —"
"I didn't have any device," Harry cut in. "It all happened right there in the diary. Like the memory itself had somehow… soaked into it."
"Then Riddle must have turned his diary into something like a Pensieve," Hermione said, frowning. "Or someone helped him do it."
"Maybe," Harry shrugged. "But that's not the point. What matters is, I saw who opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago. It was Hagrid!"
"Hagrid?" Hermione stopped dead. "That can't be! Hagrid would never —"
She faltered. A memory from the previous year surfaced: Hagrid talking about his 'baby' with such delight, as though he were speaking not about a dragon, but a kitten. He had been absolutely certain he could handle it. Then again, the gamekeeper had always been drawn to creatures most wizards preferred to keep well away from.
"You can see it, can't you?" Harry said quietly, looking her straight in the eye. "The moment he heard there was some kind of monster in the castle, he'd have gone looking for it."
Even so, Hermione found it hard to believe that Hagrid had been responsible for a student's death fifty years ago. She couldn't just take it on faith, so she began questioning Harry about every detail of the memory he had seen. Harry patiently retold everything, every word, every fragment.
"So in that memory you didn't see where the Chamber of Secrets is? And you didn't see Hagrid actually letting the monster out?" she asked.
"No," Harry shook his head. "But I did see the monster… Though, to be honest, it didn't seem all that frightening. More like a large spider."
Ron shuddered, and clearly not from the cold.
"How can something like a big spider not be frightening?" he asked grimly, shooting Harry an indignant look. "I wouldn't want to run into anything like that."
"A spider?" Hermione repeated with interest. "Hmm… I'll have to look something up on spiders in the library."
She bent down, scooped up some snow, and, lost in thought, packed it into a snowball.
"And still," she said at last, narrowing her eyes, "from what you've told me, Riddle might have got the wrong person. Maybe it was some other monster that was attacking people…"
"How many monsters d'you think this place can hold?" Ron asked uneasily, shivering and shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.
Harry frowned. Hermione only shrugged and threw the snowball at the castle wall. It broke apart in a soft cloud of white flakes.
The cold air stung their cheeks, the snow crunched quietly underfoot. There was no point arguing anymore; the facts spoke for themselves. Hagrid's strange pull towards dangerous creatures… and his expulsion from school exactly fifty years ago. They wanted to believe it was all a mistake. But there were no other explanations.