The solitude of the Scottish Highlands around the castle walls is soul-soothing. And if Hogwarts is our home, the library is probably the living room …
"We know three things. You have a rare middle name. You can talk to snakes –"
"Couldn't you shout that a bit louder?"
"Sorry," she sighs and proceeds whispering, "and Parsel is hereditary. Let's just assume that it is as legends hold because otherwise point three is just too tenuous …"
"All points are tenuous, Harper."
"They're not," she protests. "We just need to get to the school archives in Dippet's office somehow. And then we need plenty of time to skim through them for Marvolos that ideally were also able to speak Parsel. And then hopefully we'll find your mother through him, and possibly your father through her …"
I groan from the depths of my soul. This will be the proverbial search for a needle in a haystack.
"Well, but Tom," Harper then says, narrowing her eyes, "Dippet loves you, doesn't he?"
I hesitate, but eventually I nod.
"He's been calling you his primus inter pares for years. Why don't we just tell him we want to do some –"
"No way." I firmly shake my head and lean back in my wooden chair until I bump into the old wall behind us. "I want to know who I am myself before anyone else does."
She blinks a few times. "Alright … That makes it complicated, but it's your decision. But how do we get to the files then?"
"Told you already," I murmur, "I'll grab a trusting first-year, cast an Imperius, make him wander up and down outside Dippet's office day and night if need be, he'll eventually hear the password and –"
"That's unacceptable." Harper sighs. "Someone really read Prefects Who Gained Power very carefully, huh?"
"There were hardly any tips worth mentioning in there," I inform her. "So for the records: I came up with the idea all on my own."
"Who'd have thought?" She finally raises an admonishing finger. "We don't curse first-years, and certainly not with an Unforgivable!"
"Do you see an alternative?"
She shrugs. "Veritaserum?"
"We'd have to steal that from Slughorn and afterwards erase at least one memory."
She sighs, toying with her quill, almost bending it the way I regularly bend myself when attenting the Slug Club.
The Slug Club …
"Slughorn's Club, it's where all the big shots gather. Someone is sure to know something … We don't even need Veritaserum, they're always chit-chatting. It's only when I ask that everyone will get suspicious …"
"Might well be," she agrees.
"Then we have our plan." I nod. "I'll get you in and –"
"If I ask for you, that's still suspicious."
She's right, yet I wave it off. "We'll just hex someone in the Club. After all, a little Imperius in this flamboyant company is hardly going to cause you any grief, is it?"
She rolls her eyes, it's not entirely unexpected. "Tom, that breaks laws, countless Hogwarts rules – and right under Slughorn's nose, too?"
"He likes Whisky," I retort, "after a while he wouldn't even notice if we were flying around on brooms."
"But can't we get around an Unforgivable?" she wanly asks and causes me to shake my head right away.
"You know the answer."
"All right, then," she finally sighs, "we'll give it a try. And then once we have the password, we'll wait until Dippet is out and about and sneak into his office?"
"Exactly," I confirm. "Or, we could just have a first-year –"
"No!"
"I must warn you though, Harper, these evenings are tough – Slughorn never shuts up …"
"I've heard about that." She winks. "But you talk a lot, too, once you know someone. I can deal with that. And, I mean … do you have a better idea?"
"Just the first-year I mentioned …"
She softly laughs and shakes her head. "You owe me another night anyway."
"Why's that?"
"The Yule Ball last year. Does that ring a bell? Orion Black – only because you didn't ask me."
"You'll always hold that against me, won't you …"
Come! Come to me!
It may only happen once every two leap years, but right now I'm visibly flinching. Faced with the unexpected direct comparison between this and pet Viper's so much quieter, brighter voice, it takes my breath away for a moment.
I've been waiting, for so long!
"Are you all right?" Harper immediately asks.
I am waiting for you! More quietly – merely further away – I still hear it. Follow me!
I haven't forgotten the whispering in the walls over the holidays. With every syllable, Viper kept reminding me of something that can't actually be …
What are spun legends, what is truth?
Ever since Edwin spoke of Slytherin, the ever famous Parseltongue of the past millennium, one thought in particular has been stuck in my head.
That of secret catacombs hidden within, or rather under, Hogwarts ….
"Tom?"
How can it just be fairy tales when I hear it?
And how huge must that snake be?
"Riddle! What's wrong?"
"Nothing at all," I claim, forcing myself to smile.
I'll have to look into that on my own, because if my suspicions are confirmed …
"I forgot an essay, it completely slipped my mind," I lightly say.
She tilts her head at once. "Something like that happens? To you?"
I shrug. "You're obviously distracting me."
With a mixture of scepticism and amusement she eyes me. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"
Of course she suspects something. She always suspects something … Still, I quietly nod.
"Can I help you with it?" she then asks and I shake my head at once.
"It's fine, I just need to concentrate."
"I'll leave you here and find Leonora then," she announces, "I still need to ask her how her holiday was at Elliott's and whether we can expect Slytherpuff babies yet."
The mere thought of that makes me look up at her. I'm perplexed.
"You don't think they –"
"I'm sure they don't," she chuckles. "But I'm going to ask anyway."
She circles around the library table to breathe a kiss onto my cheek before her footsteps eventually sound far away.
And when she's gone, I swallow for a moment. Paralysed.
Insane as it may be, and although I could well be thinking about badger snakes or snake ravens, one connection in particular won't leave my mind.
That of toads hatching chicken eggs.
Because their result could be exactly what I hear in the walls.
It's long overdue. I need to confirm it.
Following the only self-fulfilling prophecy that has ever proactively called for me, I rise and briskly pass the shelves that seem utterly unhelpful.
Until I'm right in front of it.
Hogwarts, a History.
Chapter Legends, then Slytherin's Questionable Legacy.
Deep beneath the Black Lake, Salazar Slytherin is said to have left a dangerous legacy due to his differences with the three other founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A place devoid of all sunlight, clammy and cold, as hidden as it is secret – commonly known to witches and wizards of many generations as the infamous Chamber of Secrets. Rumours have persisted for centuries that secret catacombs house a monster that may only be controlled by Slytherin himself. Although the existence of the chamber could never been proven, not even after careful research and scouring of the entire school complex. Neither clues nor hidden entrances could be found, none of the castle's ghosts ever claimed to have seen anything. Hogwarts keeps many of its secrets – including, arguably, this one.
Why is it that most history books in the magical world sound just as lurid as Witch Weekly?
Shaking my head, I move on. My next destination must be the shelves for Fantastic Beasts.
A monster that could only be controlled by Slytherin.
Why only by him? Because of language barriers?
Should Salazar have been as cunning as he hoped his students would be? A creature hundreds of times the size of Viper that no one but him could control?
If so, Rowena, Helga and Godric could probably still be searching today …
"Tom, last one here as usual?" Madam Pince exclaims as she strides towards me in the opposite corridor.
It's ironic. I apparently hear creatures that have been sought for centuries – that the librarian is once again sneaking up on me, I completely failed to notice.
"Ma'am, I assume you're about to close?"
"I intend to, yes. Do you need a moment?"
"That would be helpful."
She nods and hastily organizes books in a chaotic shelf. "You have five minutes, otherwise you'll have to borrow something."
"Thank you, that won't be necessary," I call back.
Putting my name in books like that … I might as well ask Dumbledore, and tell him about my childhood over a cup of tea.
"I'll see you at the exit then?"
"Yes, ma'am." I smile and nod demonstratively before finally turning into the section that I hope can help me.
I don't have to look far before I open Scamander's Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
The Basilisk – classified as XXXXX, a most dangerous creature, by the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, breeding strictly banned since Medieval times – is a giant serpent that can live for several centuries given suitable conditions.
Male basilisks can be distinguished from females by a scarlet feather crown on their head.
A strong basilisk can develop immense strength with the appropriate destructive fury and, as legends hold, even crush stone. Its sharp fangs bring death in the blink of an eye – the poisonous bite of a basilisk can only be healed by phoenix tears alone.
Its most efficient weapon, however, are large yellow eyes, which are immediately lethal on direct eye contact and still petrifying indirectly.
The basilisk is the natural enemy of all arachnids, including Acromantulas.
It is said that even Parselmouths struggle to tame, let alone train, a basilisk. History vaguely claims that the infamous Herpo once succeeded in ancient times. Opinions are also divided about Salazar Slytherin – it has never been sufficiently proven that he actually bred a basilisk. Beyond the legends, it should generally be noted that the King of Serpents is inherently aggressive and insidiously murderous, making it almost uncontrollable even under the strict instructions of an experienced Parselmouth.
"Tom? Where are you?"
I take a deep breath, I close the book and just stare at the shelf for a moment.
Crazy as it seems, it's probably not only Madam Pince calling for me, but also, more and more regularly, a giant, apparently murderous basilisk …