https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-104-Return-to-the-Chamber-of-Secrets/13684829/
Translated Chapter
103. Deep Sea
That said, Wade couldn’t just wait here—Young Wizards rushing ahead to face the trials were unlikely to die, but injuries were unavoidable.
It had been long enough. He had no idea how far they’d gotten.
“I’ll go check,” Wade told Padma. “Curfew’s almost here. You go back to the Common Room first. If I find anything, I’ll message you through the Book of Friends.”
But Padma grabbed his sleeve, shaking her head forcefully.
“Padma?”
“Michael said the same thing to me…” she choked, voice breaking. “I can’t keep waiting… just waiting is worse than anything. I’d rather face the god, the Dark Lord, with you all…”
Wade fell silent for a moment, then sighed. “...Alright. You stay right behind me.”
Padma nodded, following closely as Wade moved toward the fourth floor.
“Mewww—!” Mrs. Norris let out a sharp yowl, arching her back and blocking their path.
Wade glanced sideways. Fish snacks lay scattered on the ground—untouched.
“Sorry,” he said, “but we have to get through.”
They stepped forward. Mrs. Norris bared her teeth, took two steps back, then spun and shot down the stairs like a streak.
“Stupefy!” Wade flicked his wand, and a red flash struck the cat in the back. She collapsed with a thud, sliding sideways into the corridor wall.
“Perfect—she’s definitely going to warn Filch,” Padma whispered, relief mixed with irritation. “Why does that cat have to be so annoying?”
“In her master’s eyes, she’s the most loyal little beast,” Wade said, pushing open the slightly ajar wooden door.
Padma’s breath caught as she took in the sight inside.
A monstrous three-headed dog was tearing at a harp. At the sound of footsteps, all three heads snapped toward them, growling low in their throats.
Padma trembled, lips quivering. “Harry said… it falls asleep if it hears music… I—I could sing to it, couldn’t I?”
But in her panic, she couldn’t remember a single tune.
“Music?” Wade tossed a small ball onto the floor. It rolled forward, then began playing a soft, melodic piano piece.
“What is that?” Padma stared, stunned.
“Für Elise,” Wade replied. “Beethoven’s classic.”
“No—no, I mean… what is that little ball?” Padma asked, watching as it spun, glowed in shifting colors, and sang.
“Music Player—magic version,” Wade said.
“—Your new invention?”
“Not really,” he said. “It’s a Muggle device. I just made a few small adjustments.”
Knowing the Chamber of Secrets housed a three-headed dog, Wade had come prepared—just in case.
From the first note, the beast’s fierce expression began to slacken. Within moments, it collapsed onto the floor, its six nostrils puffing out foul-smelling steam. Its massive body filled most of the space.
Padma gathered her courage and circled the dog halfway around.
“I… I heard there should be a hatch here… on the ground…”
They both looked at the dog.
“It’s probably been crushed under it,” Wade said, murmuring a Hover Charm. The beast lifted slightly and shifted aside, revealing a hatch beneath.
Wade gripped Lahuan and pulled open the door. Almost instantly, a familiar voice rang out from below.
“Thank Merlin—someone finally came!” Neville’s relieved voice called. “Who’s up there?”
“Draw your wand, Neville!” Michael whispered urgently. “The one above might be an accomplice!”
Hearing their voices, Padma pressed her face against the hatch, tears streaming as she laughed and cried. “Michael! Are you all okay?”
“Padma!” A chorus of voices answered, full of surprise and joy.
“Wade’s here too! We’re together now!” she called down.
One by one, they emerged from the hatch, riding broomsticks.
Michael was leading Neville—Neville’s leg was broken, blood still dripping.
“Thank goodness you came,” Michael explained. “The three-headed dog blocked the hatch. We tried everything, but we couldn’t get out.”
Theo bore a large bruise across his face, his body riddled with long, thin cuts—like slashes from countless tiny blades.
Liam’s arm was bent at a grotesque angle, sweat beading on his forehead from pain.
And worst of all was Ron—brought in by Hermione. He was unconscious, his head covered in bloodstains.
“Oh my god,” Padma gasped, paralyzed with horror. Tears welled instantly.
“I—I didn’t bring White Moss Essence!” she stammered, frantic.
“No need,” Wade said calmly, pulling several bottles from his bag. “I’ve got it. And Pain Relief Potion too.”
To be honest, he was deeply impressed by these children—twelve years old, some with broken limbs, yet not a single one screamed or rolled on the floor. Many adults couldn’t have endured that.
Was it magic that gave them such innate resistance to pain? Or some hidden ability to heal?
Liam downed the Pain Relief Potion in one gulp, his face pale. “Harry’s still down there.”
“What happened?” Padma asked, eyes wide, staring into the dark, gaping hole. “Did you… meet him?”
“No,” Hermione said, hands instinctively crossing over her chest. “If Quirrell and Snape wanted the Philosopher’s Stone, they’d be waiting at the final trial. The Black Flame blocked the way—only one person could pass through it safely. The potion was only enough for one…”
She paused, voice tight. “Harry chose to go alone.”
Padma gasped. “He wasn’t afraid of dying?”
Of course he was. But he still chose to face it.
At that moment, the Book of Friends in Wade’s hand grew warm. He flipped it open—Makki’s message glowed:
[It’s okay.]
It’s okay—a simple phrase, but in this moment, it carried only one meaning.
Dumbledore had returned.
“First to the Infirmary,” Wade said, closing the book. “Even if it’s just for their injuries, Madam Pomfrey will contact Dumbledore the instant she sees them.”
That settled it. They moved as fast as they could, racing through the corridors. Students they passed wore panicked expressions—no doubt thinking they’d just survived a brutal, deadly battle.
When they reached the Infirmary, even from a distance, they saw a tall, slender figure approaching—silver-white hair so long it nearly slipped into his belt.
Dumbledore. Hurrying toward the Infirmary, cradling a black-haired boy in his arms.
“Harry!” Hermione leapt from her broom, sprinting forward.
Harry Potter’s eyes were shut tight. His body was a patchwork of wounds. The lightning-shaped scar on his forehead was freshly red and swollen, as if newly injured. His hands looked blistered, as though scalded by boiling water.
The girls burst into tears.
Wade turned to Dumbledore.
The greatest white wizard—normally so calm, gentle, or playfully eccentric—was not himself. His face was etched with clear worry.
But beneath that… something deeper. Something darker.
Like the abyss of the deep sea.
(End of Chapter)
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