Ian froze.
"Clever git!" Cursing under his breath, Ian begrudgingly retrieved the cleaning tools, accepting his fate under Snape's watchful eye. While Hogwarts had house-elves for major cleaning, minor tasks like this often fell to students facing detention.
The bathrooms weren't especially filthy; many students used scouring spells before exiting. However, the taps and sinks bore stubborn lime deposits thanks to Britain's notoriously hard water. The sight of it made Ian yearn for a quick Reparo or Scourgify, but with his magic restricted, he had no choice but to scrub by hand.
After cleaning two bathrooms, Ian glanced over his shoulder. Snape, perhaps satisfied Ian had submitted, returned to his chambers for the night.
"Pick up the pace." Snape's parting words echoed, but Ian merely muttered under his breath. The professor underestimated just how stubborn he could be.
The commonly used toilets were manageable, but the broken girls' bathroom on the second floor was a different matter.
"It's a boy! This is the girls' bathroom!"
The familiar shriek rang through the air as a transparent figure drifted out from one of the stalls. Moaning Myrtle, her ghostly form shimmering, fixed Ian with an indignant glare.
"Although you're rather handsome, that doesn't give you the right to barge in here!"
Her attempt at outrage barely concealed a lingering shyness. She hovered awkwardly, half-hidden within the stall.
"Blame Snape," Ian grumbled, vigorously scrubbing at a tarnished tap. "Maybe you should haunt his bedroom instead."
Myrtle narrowed her eyes.
"I'll report you to the professors!" Then, lowering her voice with a hopeful smile, she added, "Unless, of course, you promise to visit me more often. It does get dreadfully lonely..."
Ian groaned. Cleaning toilets was bad enough. Negotiating with a lovestruck ghost? That was worse.
However.
"Open!" Ian placed his hand on a tarnished faucet, its brass surface marked with an ancient Ouroboros engraving. After months of studying the "Book of Parseltongue," he couldn't resist softly hissing the command.
Myrtle's words halted mid-air. Her face twisted with fear, the sound of Ian's voice sending a shiver down her translucent form.
"It's you!!!"
Her terrified wail echoed through the bathroom. Reminded of some terrible memory, she plunged into the toilet with a splash, vanishing beneath the swirling water.
"..."
Ian blinked at the now-empty stall. Before he could fully register Myrtle's reaction, a series of grinding noises filled the air. The Ouroboros faucet twisted sharply, its metallic form contorting as unseen mechanisms roared to life.
Then.
The entire sink began to sink, the tiles trembling as it revealed a dark, yawning passageway beneath. Ian's eyes narrowed at the gaping hole that now lay before him.
"This... is a bit different from what I imagined."
Ever since term began, Ian had been contemplating the basilisk. He'd painstakingly prepared for this moment, though he had only one goal in mind: retrieve the precious snake skin. But the opening before him wasn't the narrow, twisting chute from memory.
Instead, a vast stone staircase spiraled downward.
No wild slide. No echoing screams. No sense of reckless fun.
"My precious basilisk better not be gone."
Grumbling, Ian slipped into the opening. The mechanical groaning resumed behind him as the entrance sealed shut. With a resigned sigh, he drew his wand, the lingering trace of Snape's monitoring charm making him grimace.
"Good thing I came prepared."
From his enchanted money pouch, Ian retrieved a small lantern. Its silvery glow, produced by alchemical runes, cast a soft, steady light. He held his wand tightly, still wary of any surprises.
"Well, my good uncle practically sent me to the entrance. This definitely isn't my fault."
Muttering excuses to no one in particular, Ian cautiously descended the stone steps. Unlike the well-known secret passages of Hogwarts, this one was absent from the Marauder's Map. Droplets of water dripped from the low ceiling, echoing faintly, though the air remained surprisingly free of any foul odor.
With the lantern lighting his way, Ian walked for what felt like twenty minutes, the narrow path winding ever deeper.
"I'm not walking straight to the center of the earth, am I?"
Despite his sardonic remark, a flicker of unease crept into his mind. The darkness seemed endless. The lantern's glow barely reached the steps below, while shadows twisted ominously along the walls.
But it wasn't just the depth that troubled him.
The passageway branched. Dozens of narrow archways lined the walls, leading into winding corridors. Like a sprawling labyrinth, the stone corridors veered off in countless directions, leaving Ian to second-guess his choices.
He hesitated.
But stubborn determination won out. He chose the widest staircase, reasoning it must lead to the heart of the Chamber.
Time passed. Nearly half an hour, and the air grew heavy. Stale. Even Ian's breathing felt labored, the weight of ancient stone pressing down from all sides.
"What is this place?" Ian finally reached the bottom, where the jagged rock walls around him began to shimmer with the glow of deep blue candles. The rough stone steps beneath his feet gave way to pristine marble tiles.
Smooth and polished.
As if not a single speck of dust had ever dared to settle.
Ahead stretched a corridor resembling the grand passages of Hogwarts, leading into the shadows of the underground. Yet Ian wasn't so reckless as to charge ahead without caution.
"Better safe than sorry."
With practiced care, he examined the entrance, scanning for magical traps. Reaching into his enchanted pouch, Ian pulled out a small animated training dummy— similar to those used in the Room of Requirement— and sent it toddling ahead. The puppet ambled through the corridor multiple times, its movements twitchy but purposeful.
Only after confirming no sign of danger did Ian cautiously proceed.
Step by step, he moved through the passageway. The candles flanking the walls ignited one by one as he advanced, bathing the surroundings in a steady, ethereal light. These flames were far from ordinary. Likely conjured through ancient magic, they emitted no smoke, their glow resembling the soft embrace of sunlight filtered through stained glass.
"I suppose I underestimated the Founders. Why would they set deadly traps in their own school?"
Ian's wary tension eased slightly as he stepped forward.
Then.
"Whoosh, Whoosh, Whoosh!"
A sudden, deafening noise echoed through the vast space. Instinctively, Ian's wand shot up, the incantation for a powerful ''Shadow Storm'' poised on his tongue. But he quickly halted when he realized the source of the disturbance.
Thousands of candles had ignited at once.
The magnificent sight overwhelmed him, a brilliant, golden-blue glow enveloped the chamber. Mist-like wisps of enchanted flame floated lazily in the air, illuminating the space in a surreal haze. The delicate firelight danced along the walls and floor, creating a vision of ethereal grandeur.
"Hiss..."
The soft crackling of the flames revealed the sheer scale of the hall.
Despite having braced himself, Ian stood dumbstruck.
Before him.
The chamber was immeasurably vast, its floor gleaming like polished gold. Every step sent a soft shimmer cascading across the surface, as though the ground itself had been enchanted to reflect light in a dazzling display.
But even the radiant floor was not the most astonishing sight.
Ian's breath caught as his gaze lifted.
"Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus (Never tickle a sleeping dragon)..."
There, sprawled across the far side of the chamber, was an enormous dragon skeleton.
Its titanic frame cast immense shadows, the long arch of its spine rising like a mountain range. The twisted horns atop its skull seemed to scrape the very edges of the ceiling, while the ancient bones, bleached pale by time, retained an aura of overwhelming presence.
A mere glimpse of its massive ribs and gaping maw was enough to send a shiver down Ian's spine.
The weight of the centuries hung heavy in the air, mingling with the silent echoes of the once-living creature.
The overwhelming sense of awe threatened to consume him.
(End Of This Chapter)
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