On the third floor of the castle, laughter and a piercing scream suddenly echoed from the girls' bathroom down the hallway on the left side of the stairs. A ghost with glasses bolted through the wall in a flurry, glancing back in distress.
A moment later, the bathroom door creaked open from the inside, and Peeves emerged, cackling wildly, holding a water balloon. His waist was decked out with a brand-new bag stuffed with balloons of every color, ready for more mischief.
After the two ghosts finally vanished from the corridor, a shadowy figure emerged from the corner, the air shimmering as if twisted.
"Phew… they're finally gone," Kyle muttered, lifting the Disillusionment Charm. He walked over to the bathroom door, pushing it open. The neglected wooden door groaned loudly, as if protesting.
Inside, the small bathroom was thick with dust, abandoned and bleak.
Ignoring the grime, Kyle approached the line of sinks, his eyes scanning over them until he found what he was looking for: a faucet with a tiny snake engraved on its side.
"This should be it..." Kyle murmured, running his fingers over the little snake. "The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets."
Kyle had wrestled with the decision of coming here for quite a while. He knew that with his current abilities, he stood no chance against the Basilisk lurking inside. And unlike Harry, he wouldn’t have the aid of Fawkes or the Sorting Hat.
Still, he had come anyway.
If only for a scrap of the Basilisk’s shed scales, this trip was worth it. Basilisks, much like dragons, were almost made of treasure—every part of them valuable. Basilisk skin, in particular, was a highly prized potion ingredient; even a palm-sized piece fetched ten Galleons on the black market, if one was lucky enough to find any.
The Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets was nearly twenty feet long, enough to yield a small fortune in scales. Kyle had barely managed to hold himself back this long.
He traced his finger over the snake and made a strange hissing noise. "Open…”
Although Kyle didn’t need Parseltongue to communicate with snakes and other magical creatures, the faucet didn’t respond to his natural ability. So, during his stay with Newt, Kyle had made a point of finding a Runespoor and learning a few phrases in Parseltongue from it.
His pronunciation might not have been flawless, but it was convincing enough.
Sure enough, the faucet glowed with a brilliant white light and started spinning rapidly. As it rotated, the sink began to shift, eventually revealing a thick pipe, wide enough to fit a person.
Kyle touched the suitcase strapped to his side and took out his broomstick, then climbed inside the pipe without hesitation.
The dim light in the pipe revealed layers of slimy residue coating the walls. Riding his broomstick, Kyle navigated downward, twisting through seven or eight turns until he finally exited the pipe.
Dismounting from the broom, he found himself in a vast, dark stone tunnel, large enough for a person to stand in comfortably.
Kyle’s wand flared to life, casting a faint glow in the tunnel as he walked carefully forward. The darkness was so thick that his wand illuminated only a small area ahead, while his shadow stretched long, distorting into monstrous shapes along the damp, uneven walls.
The ground was littered with mouse bones, scattered across the moist floor—bones that Scabbers would probably find to his taste. Kyle moved slowly, eyes scanning his surroundings, prepared to bolt at the first sign of movement.
After a few minutes, Kyle rounded a dark corner, and there it was—a huge, coiled shape lying motionless in the distance.
Quickening his pace, he approached, lifting his wand higher. The light fell upon a massive snake skin, green with a glossy sheen and shimmering with golden highlights. Without hesitation, Kyle opened his trunk and carefully stashed the precious find inside.
He examined the area a bit more but only came across a few small fragments of snake skin—this one was the only complete piece. Relieved, Kyle relaxed a little. The single intact skin suggested that the Basilisk rarely frequented this part of the tunnel. If his guess was right, this skin had been shed fifty years ago—when Tom Riddle first opened the Chamber of Secrets.
Kyle continued forward, though still gripping his broomstick tightly, keeping his senses sharp just in case. On the way, he collected every fragment he encountered, determined to make the most of his trip.
At last, Kyle reached the tunnel’s end, where a solid stone wall barred his way. Engraved into the wall were two intertwined snakes, their eyes inlaid with large, gleaming emeralds.
He reached out, pressing his hand against one of the gems. If I snap these gems off… would the door refuse to open?
With a small grin, Kyle tried to pry one loose, but no matter what he tried—magic or brute force—the gem wouldn’t budge. It felt fused with the wall itself, as if it were an inseparable part of the stone. After several attempts, he was out of breath and slightly frustrated.
“Forget it,” he muttered, giving up with a sigh.
He looked into the emerald-eyed snakes and let out another low, rasping hiss. Immediately, the two snakes slid apart, and the stone wall cracked down the middle, slowly splitting and sliding aside.
Kyle took a deep breath, braced himself, and reached into his box to ensure his supplies were in order, then stepped through the doorway.
Beyond the wall lay a long, dimly lit chamber, lined with towering stone pillars coiled in relief with carved serpents. As he entered, he noticed that there was no trace of snake skin here; the path ahead was completely bare.
With his wand in one hand, a rooster in the other, and the broomstick tucked under his arm, Kyle made his way slowly between the serpent-emblazoned columns. Each step echoed in the vast, shadowed space, reverberating off the stone walls like a ghostly whisper.
He scanned the room thoroughly, confirming there were no other exits or air ducts aside from the one he’d come through. Finally reassured, he walked forward confidently.
At the end of the chamber, standing against the darkened back wall, was an immense statue. It depicted a figure with the face of a weathered old man, his features almost simian, with a sparse, twisted beard that nearly reached the floor.
“Salazar Slytherin…” Kyle murmured, narrowing his eyes. “He doesn’t look too impressive… Lady Hufflepuff looks far more like a legendary wizard.”
Kyle tilted his head thoughtfully. He knew that if he spoke the final command in Parseltongue, the statue’s mouth would open, and the Basilisk would be summoned from its slumber.
“Waking the Basilisk?” Kyle hesitated, weighing his options.