Chapter 104: Return to the Chamber of Secrets
Taking on so many injured students at once, Madam Pomfrey had initially feared a Dark Wizard army had breached Hogwarts. Thankfully, for wizards, broken limbs were merely minor setbacks—she soon had them all patched up.
The real concern was Harry Potter. He remained unconscious. After speaking with Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey assigned Harry a private room.
Wade pulled out the packed food and shared it with the group—only then did they realize how desperately hungry they’d become. As the young wizards devoured their meals, they recounted what had happened beneath the Hatch.
To protect the Philosopher’s Stone, the professors had set up a series of deadly traps. The first was the Devil’s Net, stretched beneath the Hatch to prevent fatal falls. Neville, unlucky in his landing spot, broke his leg in the first challenge and had to stay behind, waiting helplessly.
Next came the swarm of flying keys—only one was the correct one. Harry, drawing on his Seeker instincts, caught it effortlessly. Theo, meanwhile, was badly cut by a key while shielding the others.
Then came a perilous game of Wizard’s Chess. Ron, who had come down with Harry, won the match—only to be knocked unconscious by a heavy blow from a chess piece. He was still out.
After that, they faced a Giant—larger and fiercer than the one from Halloween. The young wizards fought with everything they had to defeat it. Liam lost an arm in the battle, and the rest were all wounded in various ways.
Wade frowned. “A Giant?”
“Yeah,” Theo sighed. “A stinking, massive one. I can’t even imagine how you all survived last year without a scratch.”
“If the Giant was Quirrell’s trap, then the one from Halloween must’ve been his doing too,” Michael said. “I heard he even pretended to faint from fear!”
Wade’s brow furrowed. The original trio hadn’t faced a Giant.
But now… was this the butterfly effect—or something deeper?
“The final challenge,” Hermione said, her lips trembling slightly, “was a room locked by flames. Professor Snape left two potions—one to move forward, one to return. The rest were poison or Nettle Wine.”
She paused, her voice steady, rational, precise. Yet her hair seemed to stand on end, her body taut as a drawn bowstring.
“I solved Snape’s riddle. Harry went forward. We each drank one potion, then found Ron and Neville… and tried to go back. The rest… you know.”
She clenched her hands tightly, knuckles white.
“Hermione!” Padma suddenly moved close, wrapping her arms around her. “Don’t worry… don’t blame yourself. This was Harry’s choice, not yours. And he’ll wake up. He has to.”
Hermione gently pulled away, revealing the bloodied marks on her palms—scratches she’d made herself.
“You don’t understand, Padma,” she whispered, tears falling silently. “The Hatch went down… so deep… Harry didn’t know about the Devil’s Net. He jumped first… and he said—if anything unexpected happened, we should turn back immediately… I… I just couldn’t…”
Padma stroked her back, a quiet understanding dawning within her. It wasn’t just fear for a friend’s unconscious state. It was the crushing weight of having survived, returning to safety—while watching friends walk toward death, helpless to stop it.
She glanced around. The boys weren’t crying, but something had changed in their eyes—something subtle, profound. As if, without anyone noticing, they had all grown up in an instant.
Suddenly, voices echoed from the entrance.
“No, Potter hasn’t woken yet. No visitors allowed!” Madam Pomfrey’s voice rang sharp and firm.
“Madam, we only want to see Theo and Liam—we’re all from Hufflepuff House!” a voice pleaded.
“…Fine. But no noise.”
The door swung open, and a crowd of students poured in—likely drawn by the sight of Theo and Liam returning on broomsticks, battered and bloodied. Now they came to check on their friends.
As the injured were surrounded by well-wishers, Michael exchanged a glance with Wade—both of them untouched, unnoticed, dismissed as mere onlookers.
They slipped out of the Infirmary unnoticed.
“I want to go back into the Chamber of Secrets,” Michael said, exhaling once they reached the corridor. “If Dumbledore brought Harry out, the flame barrier might’ve vanished. I need to see… what happened in the final room.”
Wade nodded. “We’ll go together.”
“Of course.” Michael smiled. “I know you’re curious too—how Harry Potter managed to survive… again.”
Wade didn’t say he wasn’t curious.
He just… wanted to go.
The traps beneath the Hatch had been nearly destroyed. Riding their broomsticks, the two made their way smoothly through the stone corridor and past the glowing rooms, until they reached the end.
It was a spacious chamber—vaulted ceiling, tall stone pillars embedded in the walls, flames still flickering at the edges.
In the center stood a giant mirror, its golden frame ornate and elaborate, carved with strange inscriptions. Two claw-like feet supported it from below.
“Look, Wade,” Michael suddenly crouched, poking the edge of a staircase with his wand. “If I’m not mistaken… that’s Professor Quirrell’s robes. See? The scarf’s still there—”
He stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide with horror, backing away slowly, rigid with dread.
Wade stepped forward instead. He conjured a cylindrical jar and scooped up some of the dust beneath the robes.
“Wade!” Michael’s voice cracked. “Do you know what that is?”
“Professor Quirrell’s remains,” Wade said calmly, screwing the lid shut. “And the vessel of the Dark Lord. Might be useful someday.”
Suddenly, a chilling voice echoed from all around, as if the chamber itself had awakened.
“Dust to dust… ashes to ashes…”
“Disturb the dead, and the living shall die. The fallen have no name, and no reward…”
“Wade Gray… Michael Conner… do you wish to journey into eternal rest?”
Michael went pale, his limbs weak, goosebumps rising across his skin. He gripped Wade’s arm, whispering, “W-Wade… p-please… t-throw it away… now…”
Wade shivered, but then—something caught his attention.
“Wesley?” Wade murmured, his voice barely audible.
(End of Chapter)
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