Eric stirred from his bed. Throwing on enough clothes to be decent, he slipped his way through the dorm and out of the common room. All the research had come together in a dream – he knew where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was!
Sneaking out of the Ravenclaw common room, he started off towards the Headmaster's office. He had to find Dumbledore; no, wait, Dumbledore had been suspended. McGonagall – she was the new Headmaster, so he turned about towards her office, stumbling through the darkened corridors. Through turn after turn, he felt that he was getting closer. Wait – it had to be midnight or later. She had to be in the teacher's dormitory!
He turned about again, the corridors getting darker and darker the further he ran. Before long, he was looking about for any of the staff. Mrs. Norris would find – wait, she was petrified. It would have to be Filtch, or maybe Peaves would find him an instructor. At the very least, he'd bring one for no other reason than to get him in trouble. Where was Peaves? A student couldn't possibly be out this long in the hallways without drawing his attention.
The corridors grew darker, the torch lights dimmer. Which way was it to the teacher's dormitory? The hallways no longer looked familiar. He tried to go back, but the turns weren't the same as before, and each way he went grew darker and darker. Then he heard it, far in the distance. "Time to kill … time to rip … time to tear …"
Eric bolted through the corridor, trying to flee the sound that seemed to come from everywhere. The darkness was almost complete. Only a dim haze helped to distinguish walls from the floor, and shadows; shadows everywhere, twisting – spinning – moving. One great shadow, greater than all the others, long and thick, a great tendril, serpentine with a maw the size of a horse,
and eyes…
Eric snapped upright in a hospital bed. He had a sour, stinging taste in his mouth, which he attributed to Professor Snape, for the potions master was hovering over him with smug satisfaction. "There. Now you know it works." Madam Pomfrey began distributing it among the various petrified residents.
Although awake and mobile, Eric found that he was horribly stiff, as if he hadn't moved at all for a month. "What's going on? Where am I?"
A quiet, even voice piped up beside him. "You're in the hospital wing. You've been petrified for several days now. You were the last victim of Slytherin's basilisk."
"A basilisk?" Eric could remember darkness, something large, and great yellow eyes – the memory alone was incapacitating.
"There there; don't think about it." Madam Pomfrey's consoling voice overflowed with reassurance. "The creature's gone, and the memory will fade in time if you let it. It's best not to dwell on it." Several more figures began to stir, including Mrs. Norris, who began an extended series of stretches. "That's it, my dear. You all should be trying to act likewise. You'll recover faster that way."
Eric began untwisting his limbs. "So, what did I miss?"
"We're unsure of all the details. The teachers are being unusually tight-lipped about it. I have noted this much, however; Gilderoy Lockhart has lost his mind, and Harry Potter was involved."
Harry Potter – the school's guardian saint was working overtime again. Interesting when one considered how much thinly veiled envy many of the students held against him. "You know, we should do something for him in gratitude. I don't think he's appreciated enough."
"I wouldn't worry too much about him. He's got the Headmaster to tell him how much he's appreciated. I'm curious about you, though. Why did you go wandering in the halls after midnight?"
Eric tried to remember; it was all such a blur. "It was something about the chamber – I think I figured out where it was. Where did you find me?"
"In the hallway where Mrs. Norris was attacked."
Eric concentrated as hard as he could. The hallway – the stairs on either side – the windows – the out of order bathroom. "I have it! I'll show you later, when we're back in the dorm."
Eric continued to work life back into his limbs. "So, how long have you been sitting there?"
"Luna, Dorian and I have been switching off. Without Hagrid, we thought it was important that someone watch over you. Katie sat with me occasionally, too. So did our prefect, until she was struck down, too."
"Woah, it was a busy monstrosity, wasn't it? I don't suppose it caught any Slytherins in it's path?"
"They've been going on about how they were immune, saying that the creature was only attacking muggle-borns."
Eric laughed at the thought. "That's a crock. What I know about my parents could fit in a thimble, but I do know one thing: my mother was a witch. That means I'm at least half-born." Looking over to Hermoine, he thought about her talents and sheer ability. "You know, this proves at least one thing once and for all."
"Oh, what's that?"
He looked back at Naomi and smiled. "There's really no difference between muggle-borns and true-bloods. If a basilisk couldn't sense the difference, no one can." Eric paused from his stretching to lie back. "You know, there's one thing I can't figure out. I remember it – I can still see it's scales, it's mouth, and I looked it straight in the eyes. If it was a basilisk, how did I survive?"
It was Naomi's turn to laugh; a sound that was as enjoyable as it was rare, driving away every dark thought that plagued him. "Eric, you were sleepwalking again."