The castle was silent.
Not the normal kind of silence—the kind that settles late at night, when even the ghosts have drifted into their own routines.
No.
This was something else.
Something deeper.
Something waiting.
Harry felt it the moment he stepped into the abandoned corridor, the torches dim, the air unnaturally cold.
"Massster…"
The hissing was everywhere now.
Not just a whisper. Not just a flicker of sound in the walls.
It was here.
Close.
And then—
A shadow moved.
The stone floor shuddered beneath his feet, a deep, ancient magic humming through the walls, and before Harry could react—
She appeared.
A massive, scaled body uncoiled from the shadows, gleaming emerald and gold, her head lowering slowly, her silver eyes glowing unmistakably bright in the dim light.
The Basilisk.
Harry's breath caught.
Because he should have been afraid.
But he wasn't.
Because the moment she saw him—
She stilled.
And then—
She bowed.
"Massster… you have come at lassst…"
Harry swallowed hard, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. "I—"
She slithered closer, massive but graceful, lowering her head further until her snout was nearly touching the floor.
"I have waited ssso long…"
Harry took a slow breath.
He could feel it—the deep, ancient connection curling between them, something bound long before he was even born.
This wasn't just any basilisk.
This was the Serpent of Slytherin.
And she had been waiting for him.
Harry swallowed. "You can't hurt anyone."
She lifted her head slightly.
"I only sssserve you, Massster. I will do as you command…"
Her massive form shrank, shimmering briefly with magic, and before Harry could fully process it—
She was small.
No longer a massive beast—but a sleek, coiling snake, curling around his shoulders, her scales cool against his skin.
"I will sssstay with you, Massster."
Harry exhaled slowly. "Yeah." He lifted a hand, running his fingers lightly over her smooth scales. "I guess you will."
Meanwhile, Lockhart is Still a Menace
Harry regretted coming to class.
Deeply.
Because Lockhart was flirting.
With him.
And it was horrible.
"Oh, my dear boy," Lockhart beamed, flashing his blindingly white teeth, "you remind me so much of my younger self!"
Harry winced.
From across the classroom, Theo's quill snapped in half.
Lockhart continued.
"Handsome, charming, so very gifted—I dare say, Harry, you're a star in the making! Why, if you ever need private tutoring—"
Harry flinched. "I really, really don't."
Lockhart laughed too loudly. "Oh, modesty! A wonderful trait!"
Harry shuddered.
Theo, watching this entire disaster unfold, looked like he was on the verge of murder.
Blaise, watching Theo's expression darken, leaned over. "I'd intervene, mate," he murmured, highly amused, "but this is deeply entertaining."
Theo didn't respond.
He just glared daggers at Lockhart.
And Lockhart?
Lockhart had no idea he was seconds away from death.
The Wrong People Try the Wrong Potion
Harry was exhausted by the time lunch rolled around.
Between meeting the basilisk and being traumatized by Lockhart, he was done.
But, unfortunately—
His admirers weren't.
Because the moment he sat down, a group of swooning girls approached his side of the table, flushed and giggling.
Theo, sitting beside him, stiffened immediately.
"Harry," one of the girls gushed, "we just adore you—"
Harry sighed. "Oh no."
"—and we wanted to give you this!"
A goblet was placed in front of him.
A very specific goblet.
One that smelled slightly too sweet.
One that was shimmering faintly.
Theo's chair scraped loudly against the floor.
The entire table froze.
And then—
Theo reached forward, picked up the goblet, and—without breaking eye contact—
DUMPED IT OUT.
Right onto the floor.
Gasps rippled through the room.
Harry, finally catching up, sighed. "Was that—"
"Amortentia." Theo's voice was cold.
Harry groaned. "Oh, for Salazar's sake."
The girls stammered, paling rapidly. "W-We didn't—"
Theo slowly turned his head, his expression absolutely lethal.
Harry had seen Theo irritated before.
Even possessive.
But this?
This was something else.
"I strongly suggest," Theo murmured, voice smooth as silk, sharp as a blade, "that you leave before I do something you'll regret."
The girls bolted.
Harry sighed, rubbing his temple. "Well. That was dramatic."
Theo turned to him.
Grabbed his wrist.
Leaned in.
And—very deliberately, in front of everyone—
Pressed a kiss to his knuckles.
The Great Hall went silent.
Theo smirked.
Blaise whistled. "Well. That's one way to stake a claim."
Pansy, highly entertained, leaned in. "Tell me, Potter," she grinned, "are you ever going to admit that you're already married in every way that matters?"
Harry groaned.
Noctis hissed approvingly.
And Ginny Weasley?
Watched from across the hall, seething.
Because if the Amortentia had worked?
Harry would have been hers.
But now?
Now she had to find another way.