Getting Closer To The Truth

It had been several months since Sal uncovered the truth about the Chamber of Secrets. Despite his research, he had no tangible leads—nothing that would prove the heir of Slytherin's identity, nothing that could help Tonks intervene from the Auror Office, and nothing that could stop Umbridge from using the chaos to push her own agenda.

Sal worked in secret, combing through Salazar's journals while Edwin meticulously translated and authenticated every discovery.

But until something concrete surfaced, all they could do was wait.

The Halloween Feast was in full swing, with floating jack-o'-lanterns and enchanted bats fluttering above the students. Sal was seated at the Hufflepuff table, enjoying a rare moment of normalcy. He had just taken a bite of treacle tart when he noticed Harry was missing.

Turning to Hermione, he asked, "Do you know where Harry is?"

"He's at Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party with Ron," Hermione answered, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, I don't know why he agreed to go."

Sal sighed, shaking his head. "Alright, but he should be here—especially tonight. I'll go find him."

It didn't take long to track down Harry and Ron, who were already on their way back from the Deathday Party.

"Harry, there you are," Sal called as he jogged up to them. "The feast has already started—let's go before all the good food is gone."

Harry barely acknowledged him. His expression had gone pale, his eyes wide with alarm.

"Do you hear that?" Harry whispered suddenly.

Sal frowned. "Hear what?"

But Harry wasn't listening. His head tilted slightly, as if following a sound only he could hear. Without another word, he bolted down the corridor.

"Harry, wait!" Sal called, but Harry kept going.

Sal and Ron exchanged a look before running after him.

By the time they caught up, Harry was standing frozen in the middle of the hall, staring at something above them.

Sal followed his gaze—and felt his stomach drop.

Hanging from a torch sconce was Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat.

Beneath her, a chilling message was scrawled in dripping red letters:

"THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE."

The blood-red words glowed eerily under the flickering torches.

Sal took a step forward, his mind racing.

This was it.

The warning. The turning point. It had begun.

Before he could speak, a furious scream shattered the silence.

The office was quiet—except for Fawkes the phoenix, who watched them solemnly from his perch.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Harry blurted out, "Professor, I swear we had nothing to do with this! We were just heading to the Great Hall when we found the message!"

Dumbledore held up a hand.

"I believe you, Harry."

Harry blinked. "You—you do?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled slightly. "If I suspected you, you would not be in my office. I simply wished to see if you were both unharmed."

"I'm fine," Harry muttered, though his fists were clenched.

"Good," Dumbledore said. He then turned his attention to Sal.

"I trust you have your own thoughts on this matter?"

Sal exhaled. He knew Dumbledore well enough to understand this was a veiled invitation—to strategize.

"This is bad," Sal admitted. "Very bad."

Dumbledore nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"If we don't find out who's behind this—before someone gets hurt—Umbridge will use it to pressure the Board into removing you."

Harry stiffened. "She can do that?!"

"Yes," Dumbledore said simply.

Sal crossed his arms. "The only thing keeping her from acting now is lack of evidence. But another attack—especially on a Muggle-born—and the Board might use it to install someone they can control."

Harry swallowed hard, realization dawning on him.

Sal turned back to Dumbledore.

"You focus on Umbridge and the Board," Sal said. "I'll focus on the Chamber. On whoever's pretending to be the Heir of Slytherin."

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling with approval.

"An excellent division of labor," he mused. "And a most Slytherin move, I must say."

Sal smirked. "We are playing a long game, sir."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Indeed we are, my boy."

Harry, still trying to process everything, turned to Sal.

"So… what do we do now?"

Sal turned toward the door, determination burning in his golden eyes.

"We find the real Heir of Slytherin."

Sal sat in the Hufflepuff common room, staring at the letter he had just written to his mother. He knew that with the attack on Mrs. Norris and the message on the wall, Umbridge would be working overtime to exploit the situation.

If they didn't act now, she could use this to force Dumbledore out.

With a deep breath, he sealed the letter and sent his owl flying toward the Ministry. Then, he opened his magical map—the one Sarah had helped him create.

"Alright, let's see what we're dealing with," he muttered.

The names of every person in the castle flickered across the parchment. But Sal's focus was on one name in particular.

Dolores Umbridge.

She was exactly where he expected her to be—the Headmaster's office.

Albus Dumbledore sat calmly at his desk, watching Dolores Umbridge pace in front of him like a restless cat.

"This school is a disaster," she declared, her voice syrupy but laced with venom. "A dangerous beast of a school with too much independence and not enough control."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers, his expression unreadable. "I trust you are not implying that Hogwarts itself is to blame for what happened to poor Mrs. Norris?"

"The school facilitates this madness, Headmaster," Umbridge snapped. "It is precisely this lawlessness that allows these kinds of incidents to happen in the first place."

Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully. "A curious argument, Madam Umbridge. And what solution do you propose?"

She smiled in a way that made it clear she had been waiting for this question.

"The Board of Governors has already expressed concern, and several members agree that Hogwarts needs closer Ministry oversight."

"I see."

Dumbledore's voice remained calm, but inside, he was analyzing every move she made.

"And who, exactly, would oversee this… oversight?" he asked.

Umbridge's toad-like grin widened.

"I believe it is time for Hogwarts to have a Ministry-appointed High Inquisitor. Someone who can ensure that the school is being run properly."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, unfazed.

"A High Inquisitor," he repeated. "And I suppose the Ministry already has a candidate in mind?"

"Oh, naturally," Umbridge said smugly. "Myself."

Dumbledore allowed a small smile to cross his lips.

"And what powers would this Inquisitor have?"

"Oh, simple things," Umbridge waved a hand dismissively. "The ability to evaluate staff, issue disciplinary action where necessary, and modify the curriculum to align with Ministry standards."

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled as he carefully picked apart her words.

"Ah," he said. "You mean you would have the power to fire professors and rewrite Hogwarts' education."

Umbridge tilted her chin upward. "If that is what is necessary to keep Hogwarts safe."

Dumbledore sighed. "A most compelling argument, Madam Umbridge. I shall, of course, discuss this matter with the Board."

"Oh, there's no need for that," Umbridge said gleefully. "The Board is already leaning in my favor. It's only a matter of time before this is official."

Dumbledore remained unruffled, but he knew she wasn't bluffing.

And so did Sal.

Sal was already one step ahead.

While Umbridge played her bureaucratic games, Sal was preparing to burn her narrative to the ground.

His mother had allies on the Wizengamot. His grandfather's name still held weight. And most importantly, he held two votes—Hufflepuff and Slytherin's seats on the Wizengamot Board.

If Umbridge wanted to use the Chamber of Secrets incident to push her own power, then Sal would flip it on her.

He sent letters to every Board member not in the Minister's pocket.

And the next day, the headlines across The Daily Prophet read:

MYSTERIOUS ATTACK AT HOGWARTS: AN INSIDE JOB?

By Rita Skeeter

Reports from inside Hogwarts suggest that the recent attack on a beloved school pet may not be as random as it appears.

Sources close to the school claim that Dolores Umbridge, Ministry Undersecretary and recent Board Advisor to Hogwarts, has been orchestrating a narrative of chaos to seize control of the school.

"Nothing like this has happened in decades," one insider reveals. "And now, suddenly, an attack happens just as the Ministry pushes for increased control? The timing is too convenient."

Furthermore, multiple sources suggest that certain spells meant to protect the school's wards may have been tampered with—potentially from within the castle itself.

While the investigation is ongoing, the Wizengamot is expected to hold an emergency session to discuss the matter.

Stay tuned for more updates.

The next morning, the entire school was reading the article. The teachers. The students. The ghosts. Even Peeves was floating above tables reading it aloud to anyone who would listen.

And Umbridge?

She was seething.

When she stormed into Dumbledore's office, the Headmaster merely raised an eyebrow.

"You look troubled, Dolores," he said lightly.

"You—you—YOU PLANNED THIS!" she shrieked, slamming The Daily Prophet onto his desk. "This slanderous filth is undermining my entire—"

"I had nothing to do with the press," Dumbledore cut in smoothly. "Perhaps your actions simply spoke for themselves."

"You think this will stop me?" Umbridge hissed.

"I think this will slow you down," Dumbledore corrected pleasantly.

Umbridge glared at him with pure hatred.

"Who did this?" she demanded. "Who has the influence to pull something like this?!"

Dumbledore merely smiled.

And elsewhere, Sal closed the latest copy of The Daily Prophet and smiled.

"Checkmate."

Dumbledore had been expecting him.

"Ah, Salazar," the Headmaster greeted as Sal entered his office. "I take it you've been investigating?"

Sal nodded. "I need access to any past records of the Chamber—when it was last opened, any signs we missed."

Dumbledore gave him a long look. "I assume you have suspicions?"

Sal hesitated. "It has to be someone new. Nothing like this happened last year. The only major change was the first-year class."

Dumbledore folded his hands. "You are correct. The last time the Chamber was opened was fifty years ago."

Sal already knew this. "The attack on Mrs. Norris was meant as a warning. If the attacker was truly powerful, they would have gone after a student."

Dumbledore nodded, confirming his thoughts.

"What's even stranger," Sal continued, "is that there was no Dark Magic residue at the scene. If someone had cursed Mrs. Norris, I would have been able to detect it."

Dumbledore's expression darkened. "Which suggests that whatever harmed her was not a curse—but a creature."

Sal's blood ran cold. "Professor… if the creature is the basilisk, then the only person who could control it is someone who speaks Parseltongue."

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes. Which means our list of possible culprits just grew very short."

Sal clenched his fists. "Harry heard something the night of the attack. He heard a voice, but no one else did."

Dumbledore's expression did not change. "Go on."

Sal took a steadying breath. "The only reason he could have heard it… is if it was speaking Parseltongue."

Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly before speaking. "It is possible, then, that young Mr. Potter is hearing the basilisk."

Sal felt the weight of the revelation settle on his shoulders.

"But that means…" Sal hesitated. "Professor… does this mean Harry is the heir of Slytherin?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, but not in amusement.

"No," he said softly. "But someone wants people to think he is."

After Sal's meeting with Dumbledore, he knew that time was running out. The Chamber of Secrets had been opened, but the question remained—by whom?

Whoever was responsible was careful. The attack on Mrs. Norris had been a warning, but Sal suspected that things were about to escalate.

He just didn't expect it to happen so soon.

With Colin Creevey petrified, the situation had escalated. The castle was filled with whispers of fear, and the staff was working overtime to prevent a mass panic.

Sal knew one thing for certain: whoever had opened the Chamber wasn't done.

Sal met up with Harry and Hermione in the library the next day. They needed to piece things together before another attack happened.

"I'm telling you, I heard a voice," Harry insisted. "It was… cold. It kept saying it wanted to kill."

Sal exchanged a look with Hermione.

"What exactly did it say?" Hermione asked, scribbling notes.

Harry frowned, concentrating. "'Rip… tear… kill…' Something like that."

Sal's stomach dropped. That wasn't just a voice.

"That's Parseltongue," Sal muttered.

Harry's eyes widened. "Wait—Parseltongue? You can speak it, too, right?"

Sal hesitated. He had never openly talked about it, but there was no point in hiding it now.

"Yes," he admitted. "I've always been able to."

Hermione looked between them. "But what does that mean?"

Sal leaned forward. "It means the creature might be a basilisk."

Hermione inhaled sharply. "The Serpent of Slytherin…"

Harry shook his head. "Hold on—how would a basilisk be moving around the castle without anyone seeing it?"

Sal flipped through one of the books they had gathered. "Basilisks can be hundreds of feet long, but they usually travel through—"

He stopped mid-sentence. His heart pounded.

"—pipes."

Harry and Hermione froze.

Hermione's hand covered her mouth. "That would explain why no one has seen it… it's been using the plumbing!"

Sal nodded. "That's how it's moving. It must be connected to the Chamber somehow."

"But that means…" Harry's voice trailed off.

Sal finished the thought.

"It means the entrance is somewhere near the plumbing."

They needed to find it—fast.