After passing the massive shed snake skin, Draco quickly reached the end of the tunnel.
On either side stood stone statues shaped like serpents, their heads bowed slightly as if in reverence, welcoming the arrival of some great figure.
Perhaps the creator of this place...
“Salazar Slytherin, the first Parseltongue recorded in history.”
Standing before a wall engraved with serpentine reliefs, Draco whispered as he pressed his palm against the stone, feeling the lingering traces of magic. It was clear that this door required Parseltongue to open—and that it had been used not long ago.
“Slytherin sealed the Chamber so that no one could open it until his true heir arrived at the school. Only that heir could unseal it and release the horror within.”
Draco had read these words in a book. They were spoken by Salazar Slytherin himself, the one who had built the Chamber.
From the look of things, this had to be the legendary Chamber of Secrets. And the terrifying creature inside could only be the Basilisk.
But...
“Judging by the thickness, there’s no way to get through without Parseltongue.”
He lifted his wand, surveying the surroundings. Even if he tried blasting the door open with a spell, Draco was certain that before the stone gave way, falling debris from above would crush him to death.
The tunnels here didn’t look particularly stable.
From the look on Draco’s face, he had no real solution. He might have prepared himself to face the Basilisk, but he hadn’t expected to be stopped cold by a wall. If he returned empty-handed, Hermione would never let him live it down—and then there was Snape. Knowing his godfather well, Draco could already picture the biting sarcasm he’d have to endure...
Just as his thoughts began to drift, something suddenly changed.
The eyes of the two intertwined serpents carved on the wall flickered, and Draco finally realized they were emeralds—now glowing.
Rumble!
Draco stepped back as the stone wall split down the middle and slowly slid apart, vanishing into the sides. The strange and wondrous sight made him narrow his eyes.
A trap?
No.
An invitation...
...
Draco doubted anything he did had caused the wall to open. The only explanation was that whoever was inside already knew he was coming—and was confident enough to let him in.
And when faced with such an invitation, there was no reason for Draco Malfoy to refuse or retreat. Without hesitation, he stepped past the threshold into what was most likely the Chamber of Secrets... Tap, tap, tap.
What lay before him was a vast chamber.
The floor, much cleaner than the earth outside, echoed beneath his steps, and Draco recognized the stone as the same material used in Hogwarts itself.
He stood at the dim edge of the chamber, where towering stone pillars carved with coiling serpents rose high, supporting a ceiling that vanished into the shadows above. The greenish haze that filled the room cast long, twisted shadows across the walls, adding to the eerie atmosphere.
Draco didn’t move forward at once. He listened to the chilling silence, waiting until he was certain no one—or nothing—was lurking nearby. Only then did he tighten his grip on his wand and step forward.
Each footfall echoed hollow and loud against the walls, reverberating through the ghostly chamber. A timid soul might have collapsed in terror at the sight and sound.
But Draco’s calm expression and steady pace showed just how composed he was.
Clear thoughts allowed him to assess the dangers hidden in the dark, while the magic thrumming through his body gave him the confidence to face whatever lay ahead. In that moment, Draco was already in battle mode...
Cautious though he was, he made it to the far end of the chamber without incident.
“What’s this?”
At the end of the chamber, the wall was carved into a massive human face.
It was an aged, wrinkled visage, almost simian in appearance, with a sparse, straggly beard that nearly trailed down to the hem of the stone-carved wizard’s robe. Two gray, beast-like feet rested on the polished floor.
But that wasn’t what caught Draco’s attention.
Between those feet lay a figure in a black robe, face down, with hair as red as fire.
“Red hair… a Weasley?”
He didn’t step forward to check, only wondering why someone from that family would be here—especially in such a strange state.
More importantly, Draco held back because of the possible enemies hidden in the shadows...
Clap!
Suddenly, applause echoed through the chamber, and Draco’s eyes snapped toward one of the stone pillars.
“You’re not quite as I remembered. I always thought Harry Potter would be more reckless. Yes, that’s the weakness every Gryffindor shares.”
“...”
Perhaps because of the angle, the speaker hadn’t realized that the person before him wasn’t the savior he imagined. Draco’s expression turned oddly amused.
Even without a response, the man carried on.
“Harry Potter, do you know how long I’ve waited for this chance? All so I could finally see you and have a little talk.”
“...”
“But I suppose what you really want to know is why your dear friend Ron Weasley is lying cold on the floor, isn’t it?”
At those words, Draco felt waves of malice radiating from the voice in the shadows—and at the same time, he understood who the figure at the statue’s feet was.
“Oh, it’s quite an interesting tale. You see, Ron Weasley ended up like this because his inferiority drove him to pour out every secret to me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The diary. My diary. For months, little Ron has been writing in it—confiding how miserable his life is. The pressure of living in the shadow of his brilliant brothers, being forced to wear hand-me-down robes, lug around old books, even a broken wand to school. He wrote how much he hated—hmm… Draco Malfoy, I believe that was the name—and of course, about the little witch he likes... tch.”
The figure hidden in the darkness never looked away from what he thought was Harry Potter, his eyes gleaming with a greedy hunger.
Draco frowned, sharp and alert, his mind lingering on one word the man had spoken.
A diary...