"All students must return to their house common rooms by 6:00 p.m., and no student is to leave after that time. You will be escorted by a professor to each of your classes, and wandering the castle alone before your professor arrives is strictly forbidden. Quidditch training and matches are postponed, and there will be no evening activities..."
The students sat at the long tables in the Great Hall, listening in solemn silence to Professor McGonagall's announcement.
Professor McGonagall was genuinely afraid.
Before the holidays, the Ministry of Magic had grown increasingly concerned about the situation at Hogwarts. After the attack on Professor Charity Burbage, who taught Muggle Studies, there had even been talk of temporarily closing Hogwarts to focus all efforts on finding the Chamber of Secrets. Though this proposal was initially rejected by a majority, the mounting attacks had brought it back onto the table just before Christmas. This time, it had far fewer opponents.
One of the few reasons the Ministry had remained silent was Dumbledore's continued presence at Hogwarts. That, and the fact that no students had been seriously harmed so far. But Professor McGonagall knew this luck wouldn't last forever.
The peace was fragile, like a stack of dynamite barrels waiting for the slightest spark. Some people in the shadows were already waiting for an opportunity to act, and McGonagall was certain that if even one student were seriously harmed, or if attacks increased further, those forces would seize the chance to set everything ablaze.
No one could predict what might happen then. And Professor McGonagall couldn't bear the thought of students getting hurt.
These were the most crucial days. The Mandrake roots were nearly mature, and once the petrified students and ghosts were revived, they would be able to tell what they had seen, perhaps even revealing secrets about the Chamber of Secrets and the creature within it. McGonagall was sure the Heir of Slytherin was aware of this, too. He would either lie low or become more reckless to protect his secrets.
And the petrified Dwarves were proof that he had chosen the latter.
Professor McGonagall took a deep breath, her expression graver than ever. Though all the victims so far had only been petrified, she couldn't forget that fifty years ago, during the Chamber's last opening, students had died for reasons no one understood.
This couldn't happen again.
She looked out over the students, her voice tense. "I hope each of you will follow these rules—for the safety of your own lives! Anyone who breaks them will lose all their House points, and their House will be disqualified from the Quidditch match."
"In addition, I urge anyone who thinks they know something to come forward. Every clue, no matter how small, could help us find the culprit behind these attacks."
When Professor McGonagall finished, she left the hall abruptly, her robes sweeping behind her.
As soon as she was gone, a murmur of whispers filled the Great Hall. Never before had there been such a severe punishment as deducting all House points and canceling Quidditch matches.
"Well, at least Professor McGonagall only postponed the Quidditch match..." Harry said with a hint of relief.
"You lot..." Ron glanced at Fred and George, who looked like they were about to say something but held back. They seemed to guess what he was thinking.
"We'll find a way around it, even if it's just for Quidditch," Fred said confidently.
"It's you we're worried about," George laughed. "Don't start thinking about playing hero and catching the villain like last year—that's not what you're here for."
"We're not trying to be heroes!" Ron said, his face turning red.
Beside him, Harry and Hermione ate quietly, seemingly lost in their own thoughts. At the Hufflepuff table, Kyle was also silent. He watched as everyone around him discussed the identity of the Heir, observing the expressions of each student as names were suggested.
Everyone looked relatively normal. The only one acting out of character was Lockhart. He wasn't boasting about the thousand cards he'd received or his various exploits; he hadn't even bothered to fix his hair, which was an unruly mess of blonde curls. Instead, he sat there, downing drink after drink, a far cry from his usual lively self at lunchtime.
Half an hour later, dinner came to an end.
Professor McGonagall re-entered the Great Hall, accompanied by the other three Heads of House. Professor Sprout approached the Hufflepuff table to escort her students back to their common room.
"Unless you're on your way to class, you must remain here at all times," she reminded them firmly. She did a quick headcount to ensure everyone was present, and only left once the last student had passed through the wooden door.
"Doesn't Professor Lockhart already know who the Heir is?" someone blurted out as soon as Professor Sprout was gone. "Why don't the professors just arrest the person?"
"Don't you get it?" someone else replied, sneering. "He's just full of hot air. He doesn't know anything, as he made painfully clear at the Duelling Club."
"Nonsense!" another student argued. "You've all read his books—just think of all the incredible things he's done!"
"He only said he did them himself," someone muttered skeptically.
The common room quickly split into two camps, each heatedly debating Lockhart's credibility. Kyle, Kanna, and Cedric stayed out of the pointless argument, instead weaving through the crowd to settle on a few sofas in the corner.
"Kyle, did you find anything?" Cedric asked quietly.
"No," Kyle replied, shaking his head.
"The person behind this is hiding really well," Kanna sighed. "Every time there's an attack, no one sees anything—it's like it all happens out of thin air... Could the monster in the Chamber of Secrets be some sort of ghost that roams the castle freely?"
"Ghosts can't cause petrification. They only look scary," Cedric countered, glancing back at Kyle. "By the way, where did you find that golden chain last time?"
"A... very hidden place," Kyle replied after a pause, still reluctant to mention the Chamber of Secrets by name.
He hadn't entirely ruled out the idea of telling Professor Dumbledore about the Chamber's location and what he knew of Tom Riddle. In fact, the thought had crossed his mind more than once, especially after the diary mysteriously vanished and the attacks became more frequent. Yet, he could never quite bring himself to do it. Every time he considered telling someone, the thought would inexplicably fade away.
It was like being a Muggle caught within a Muggle-Repelling Charm's range: each time he tried to focus, something else seemed to tug his mind elsewhere.
Kyle wasn't fully conscious of this strange mental interference, only feeling an undefined unease he couldn't quite explain. In the end, he chalked it up to his reluctance to part with the Basilisk. After all, a creature that rare was worth a fortune in Galleons—enough to build a small mountain. It was only natural to feel hesitant.
Kyle rubbed his forehead, a strange, lingering irritation creeping over him.
"Speaking of clues," Cedric said, breaking the silence, "do you remember the gift you gave me for Christmas?" Without waiting for a reply, he got up and dashed to the dormitory. "Wait here a moment."
After about a minute, he returned, holding a stack of parchment.