Meanwhile, on the same day Extimum disappeared. Gryffindor Common Room.
Unlike the Ravenclaw common room, where the students were still trying to keep their spirits up, largely unaware of what had happened, the atmosphere in Gryffindor was quiet and gloomy.
So much so that if a student from any other house had walked in at that moment, they probably would have doubted they were really looking at Gryffindors.
Although the unease still lingered, it was no longer the dominant emotion. Instead, sorrow and grief hung over the students.
The news that the basilisk had taken Ginny and Extimum had spread throughout the house, crushing the students' morale.
In truth, McGonagall had never intended for the news to become public so soon. She had hoped to keep the matter as discreet as possible, at least among the students most directly affected.
Unfortunately, the Weasleys were hardly the very image of discretion, so the news spread almost as soon as they learned it themselves, thwarting McGonagall's attempt to keep the situation under control until the students boarded the train a few days later.
She was fully aware that news like this would eventually come to light; in fact, she had already informed Ginny's parents. However, when it came to Extimum's disappearance, the situation was far more complicated.
-- Pov McGonagall --.
In a spacious office filled with carefully organized books and scrolls, a lone figure paced aimlessly.
Their steps were unsteady and hesitant, stopping and resuming at an irregular rhythm, reflecting the turmoil within their mind. At times, they would stand motionless for one, two, or even three seconds, their gaze fixed on some distant point before gently shaking their head and resuming their pacing.
Yet one thing never changed. Amid all that pacing and contemplation, their eyes always found their way back, if only for a few brief moments, to the scrolls spread across the desk.
The scene repeated itself over and over until, at last, the figure seemed to give in. They walked behind the desk, sank into the chair, and almost simultaneously raised a hand to rub their forehead and temples.
** Sigh **.
And with that, a faint yet audible sigh broke the silence of the lonely office.
Minerva McGonagall was a woman of unwavering resolve and unquestionable intellect. As a professor at one of the most prestigious schools of magic in the world, she had decades of experience behind her, and very few situations were capable of making her lose her composure.
This, however, was one of them.
She had chosen the best course of action available and maintained her composure in front of both professors and students.
She had prevented chaos from spreading and managed to calm, at least in part, the anxious hearts of those who depended on her.
Only now, sheltered by the privacy of her office, could she allow the storm of emotions she had been suppressing to surface.
There was sadness. Worry. Hatred. Anger. Helplessness. Even the faintest hint of despair.
Even so, years of discipline and exceptional skill in Occlumency kept those emotions from clouding her judgment. She would not allow them to interfere with her priorities.
Even so, the situation at the school continued to trouble her. More importantly, the fate of her students. And she had to admit that, without Dumbledore there to hold the fort, everything had become far more difficult.
An enormous responsibility now rested upon her shoulders.
As if that were not enough, the problem was no longer limited to the students. Their families were now involved as well.
In the Weasleys' case, at least, they could be described as reasonable people.
But the Izorim...
Ugh.
A monumental headache was approaching, and there was very little she could do to avoid it.
Out of all the families in the wizarding world... out of all the students who could have become victims... why did it have to be a member of that family? And not just any member—their heir, no less?
It was common knowledge throughout the wizarding world that ancient families had a tendency to become particularly irrational whenever the continuation of their bloodline was at stake. Considering that it was the Izorim family's direct heir, it was unthinkable that this situation could be resolved easily.
That was why the letter resting on her desk had yet to be sent. If possible, she would rather wait until the students had departed on the train.
Though she knew perfectly well that it would make little difference.
News like this would not take long to reach the ears of the Izorim family.
After all, she was no ordinary witch.
And she knew all too well what that family was capable of.
On the other hand, it was not that she considered Extimum's fate unimportant or that she was unconcerned for his safety. But during her many years at Hogwarts, she had had the fortune... or perhaps the misfortune... of knowing the leading members of the Izorim family.
Every one of them had passed through her classroom.
On one side were Callum, Rhys, and Christelle, who formed the family's central branch at the time, followed by the two sisters, Ava and Lauren.
They had all been good children. It was only after growing up and finding their place in the world that they began to change.
As their professor, perhaps she had never truly come to know them completely. Even so, she could at least say that she had never allowed rumors or reputation to shape the judgment she formed of them.
Even so, despite the fact that the family always held the banner of the Light high and reveled in it, her years as a professor allowed her to perceive the budding darkness they concealed.
Perhaps the twin sisters, Ava and Lauren, were the only exception to that impression. After all, they had not originally belonged to that branch of the family and had only come to live with them when Callum was in his fourth year.
Callum, the eldest of the three siblings, was generally polite and approachable. Even so, he always conveyed a sense of distance and intentions that were difficult to read.
Rhys, in her opinion, was the most innocent of the three. He was merely a little pretentious and something of a womanizer. Aside from that, he was fairly ordinary.
However, the one who had always made McGonagall frown was the youngest of the three siblings, Christelle.
She was a strange girl. As though nature had somehow decided to unite two completely opposite extremes within a single person, creating something as fascinating as it was unsettling.
At first, she had enjoyed a certain degree of popularity thanks to the Izorim name and her striking appearance, but those who got to know her soon drifted away as though she carried a plague.
It was not because of the way she behaved, much less because of her performance as a student. It was simply that the moment she opened her mouth, she evoked an indescribable sense of unease. A chill would run through anyone who listened to her.
Even some professors were not entirely immune to feeling subtly affected on occasion.
By comparison, Ava and Lauren were rather ordinary among that group.
However, as the years passed, all of them changed, and Lauren, one of McGonagall's favorite students, had even passed away.
An event that deeply affected the Izorim family, especially her twin sister, who had never been the same since.
But setting all of that aside, what truly concerned McGonagall was something else.
Although Callum was a difficult, domineering man and, above all, an extremely influential one, she very much doubted he would be the one to come to Hogwarts.
Christelle was by far the more likely candidate.
Because the Izorim family would not remain idle for long, and once they began to act, she would undoubtedly be the one to arrive.
It was a role she had gradually come to assume over the years.
She was always the one who appeared whenever a situation extended beyond the realm of politics or, rather... formality and... diplomacy.
Coupled with her record as a former Auror and her current position as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries, she possessed not only the ability but also the attitude and experience required for such a role. Which made the situation far more complicated.
And it had to be said that, despite having once been one of her students, McGonagall would have been more than happy never to meet that woman again if she could help it.
Because, quite simply, she was a difficult woman to deal with, possessing an almost tyrannical personality and methods that were rather unorthodox for someone of her background. Even so, somehow, she always managed to push the limits of what was acceptable to the absolute edge without ever crossing the line.
Her mere presence was enough to evoke the refined image of what one would expect a Dark wizard to look like.
--End POV--
.
In one corner of the Gryffindor common room, Hermione, Ron, and Harry sat silently on the rug, letting their minds drift between reflection and grief.
Not far from them sat Fred and George, who were in no better state of mind.
On one hand, the Weasleys were struggling to come to terms with the terrible news that their youngest sister had been taken by the basilisk and, by all estimates, was probably already dead.
On top of that, Extimum—a close friend of the trio and someone the twins had also come to care about—had disappeared during the same incident, leaving behind nothing but his personal bag.
Faced with such news, it was impossible for the atmosphere not to feel bleak.
And so, each of them remained silent, lost in their own thoughts, while the mere presence of the others eased, if only slightly, the weight each of them carried.
Eventually, even Fred and George decided they could no longer bear the oppressive atmosphere and returned to their dormitory.
Ron: "Harry... do you think there's any chance Ginny and Extimum aren't...? You know..."
Harry didn't answer. Like everyone else, he refused to accept the possibility that they might truly be dead.
Everything had happened so suddenly, so unbelievably, that his mind still wasn't ready to accept such a devastating possibility.
Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Ron got to his feet.
Ron: "You know what? I can't just sit here anymore. I'm going to go mad if I keep thinking about it. Why don't we go tell Lockhart what we know? He's going to try to enter the Chamber. We can tell him where we think the entrance is. Every second counts."
Hermione: "Wait... you know where the entrance is?"
Hearing those words, Hermione was pulled from her thoughts and asked in surprise.
Ron: "Huh...? Yeah." he answered, sounding somewhat unsure of himself.
Hermione: "What!? Why didn't you tell me!?"
That confirmation immediately lifted Hermione's spirits, though it also left her somewhat annoyed that they had kept something so important from her.
Ron felt cornered by the intensity of her reaction. After all, they simply hadn't had the chance to tell her.
Harry: "Calm down, Hermione. It's not that we didn't want to tell you—we just never had the chance. You'd only just recovered, and with everything that happened afterward, plus classes, there simply wasn't an opportunity."
Hermione: "Huh..."
Harry's words reminded Hermione that, at least as far as everyone else knew, she was only supposed to have recovered the day before.
"Fine. You can tell me how you found out later. Right now, let's go with Ron's idea and talk to Professor Lockhart. Since he's going to face the basilisk, we can save him time by finding the Chamber ourselves and increase the chances of saving Ginny and Extimum."
The fact that Lockhart was going to confront the basilisk was no secret. Although the professors themselves had very little confidence in him, they had allowed the news to spread among the students.
Mainly, it was an attempt to ease the students' anxiety until everyone had left the castle, allowing the staff to begin planning how to deal with the beast properly.
Even so, some professors had motives that were... somewhat less noble for spreading that particular piece of news. After all, everyone appreciated Professor Lockhart quite a bit... didn't they?
As for Lockhart himself, he had accepted the task only with the greatest reluctance and had spent the entire day keeping up appearances, as the professors had insisted on "helping" him prepare under McGonagall's orders, given the tense situation.
Ron and Harry pulled themselves together and left the common room alongside Hermione, driven by the hope of saving their friends and family.
Curiously, it was Hermione who took the lead, heading straight toward Professor Lockhart's office.
No one tried to stop them. On one hand, everyone understood that, as those closest to the victims, they probably needed some time away from the common room. On the other, no one expected the basilisk to strike again so soon.
Besides, Professor McGonagall, their Head of House, was far too busy carrying out the duties of Headmistress, while most of the other professors were either patrolling different parts of the castle or preparing the academic summaries for each year.
No one believed that, after everything that had happened, any students would still dare to wander the castle on their own.
After several minutes of walking, they finally reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and made their way toward the professor's private quarters.
As they approached, the faint sound of objects being moved drifted through the door.
The three of them stopped in front of it and exchanged a glance. In the end, it was Hermione who stepped forward and knocked.
**Knock knock**
As soon as they knocked on the door, all movement on the other side seemed to stop abruptly, leaving the place in silence for several seconds as the trio exchanged uncertain glances.
At last, the door opened just a crack, and Professor Lockhart poked his head out.
Lockhart: "Ah...! Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger..." he said as he opened the door a little wider. "I'm rather busy at the moment. If you'll be quick..."
The three of them immediately noticed that Lockhart seemed uncomfortable and in a hurry. However, they didn't think much of it, and Harry quickly spoke up.
Harry: "Professor, we have some information that we think could help you."
Lockhart: "Ah... well... that's not nece—... Very well, come in."
Lockhart hesitated for a moment and was on the verge of turning them away, but ultimately decided to let them in. He only had to hear what they had to say before continuing with his preparations.
The office was almost completely empty. Two large trunks stood open on the floor. One contained jade-green, lilac, and midnight-blue robes, hastily folded; the other was filled with books piled together in complete disorder.
The photographs that had once covered the walls were now packed away in boxes on top of the desk.
Harry: "Are you going somewhere?"
Harry couldn't help asking as he looked around the office.
Lockhart: "Well... yes..." Lockhart admitted as he pulled down a life-sized poster of himself and began rolling it up. "An urgent... unavoidable... summons. So I have to leave..."
Hermione: "What?"
Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. Her face was the picture of utter astonishment, while deep within her gaze lingered a flicker of disappointment. The last fragile barrier protecting the image she had built of Lockhart had cracked just a little more.
Ron: "What about my sister and Extimum?"
His voice caught in his throat, and he sounded almost as shocked as Hermione.
Lockhart: "Well... as for that... it's certainly tragic..." he said, avoiding their eyes as he pulled out a drawer and began emptying its contents into a bag. "No one regrets it more than I do..."
Harry: "You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor! You can't just leave now, with everything that's happening!"
His voice rose several levels above its usual volume.
Lockhart: "Well... I must say... when I accepted the position... there wasn't anything in the contract about doing something like this... And I certainly didn't expect..."
He continued packing his belongings as he spoke.
Hermione: "You're running away?" she asked, more to herself than anyone else, before adding weakly, "Why?! Aren't you supposed to be a great wizard who's survived countless dangers, practically hailed as a hero? Even your books make a point of saying so..."
Hermione found it unbelievable. Yet, deep down, part of her seemed to understand. She simply refused to accept it. Extimum's words, all those suspicious details, and everything that had happened...
Lockhart: "I..." Lockhart hesitated for a brief moment, visibly affected by the disappointment in Hermione's voice. "Books... can give the wrong impression."
However, his hesitation lasted only an instant before he reaffirmed his resolve. He would never have made it this far in life without at least that much determination. Even so, his voice came out noticeably quieter.
Even so, those few words alone were enough to shatter the last remnants of Hermione's blind faith in him.
Harry: "How can you say that? Even if your books exaggerated a few things, the facts can't be that far from the truth. After all, you wrote them yourself."
Lockhart: "Boy, use your common sense. My books wouldn't have sold half as well if people hadn't believed I'd done all those things.
No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian wizard who saved a village from werewolves. He'd have looked dreadful on the cover.
He had absolutely no sense of style. And the witch who banished the death omen banshee had a harelip. I mean... really..."
Harry: "So you've been taking credit for what other people accomplished?"
Harry asked in disbelief, unable to believe what he had just heard.
Ron was equally dumbfounded. He had never thought much of Lockhart and had always found him insufferable, but at least he'd believed his exploits were real, even if they'd been embellished.
After all, it wasn't easy to fool so many people and build such a massive reputation in the wizarding world through lies alone—let alone become a professor at Hogwarts.
Or at least, that's what he'd believed.
Hermione, however, seemed to be the calmest of the three now. Lockhart's answer had merely confirmed the suspicions that had already begun to take shape in her mind.
Lockhart: "Harry, Harry..." Lockhart shook his head slowly. "It's not that simple. It took an enormous amount of work. I had to track those people down, ask them exactly how they'd accomplished their feats, and then cast a powerful Memory Charm on them so they couldn't remember any of it. If there's one thing I'm truly proud of, it's my Memory Charms.
Ah... it took a tremendous amount of effort, Harry. It isn't all book signings and publicity photographs. If you want to be famous, you have to be willing to work hard."
Hermione's hand trembled slightly as, almost instinctively, she reached for her wand. A strange sense of danger—both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time—washed over her.
Lockhart, meanwhile, seemed completely oblivious to their reactions as he finished packing his belongings and locked both trunks.
Lockhart: "Let's see... I believe that's everything. Ah, yes... Just one little detail remains."
With his back still turned to them, he slowly slid one hand toward the wand in his pocket before finally turning around.
"I'm terribly sorry, children, but I'm afraid I'll have to cast one of my Memory Charms on you now. I can't have you revealing my secrets to the whole world. I'd never sell another book..."
The moment he gripped his wand and turned—
"Expulso."
"Expelliarmus!"
Two flashes of light shot across the room almost simultaneously. Lockhart was blasted backward, crashing into one of the trunks holding his luggage. His wand flew into the air, and Ron reacted instantly, catching it before hurling it out the window.
It all happened in the span of a few seconds.
Their coordination had been so perfect that it almost looked rehearsed.
Yet, just like Lockhart, the three of them were stunned by how everything had unfolded.
Harry and Ron especially. Harry had acted on pure instinct, driven by the situation and his past experiences. Ron, meanwhile, had shown enough presence of mind to dive for the wand and immediately throw it out the window.
Hermione, however, was the one who surprised them the most. Considering her performance during the dueling lessons, no one had expected such a swift reaction. Not only had she grasped the situation instantly, but she had also been the first to attack. Her spell had been cast a fraction of a second before Harry's.
Even Hermione was surprised by her own reaction. Although she had acted consciously, it had felt more like following an intuition she couldn't explain. Trusting nothing but that strange sensation, she had cast one of the spells she had learned from the untitled book Extimum had given her.
Nevertheless, they didn't waste time dwelling on unnecessary thoughts. All three immediately trained both their attention and their wands on Lockhart.
Harry: "You never should have let Professor Snape teach us dueling techniques."
He muttered quietly, struggling to contain the fury burning inside him.
It didn't take Lockhart long to regain consciousness. When he opened his eyes, he found himself sprawled across the floor, wandless, with three other wands pointed directly at his face.
Lockhart: "And what do you expect me to do? I don't know where the Chamber of Secrets is. I can't do anything."
He answered weakly.
Harry: "You're in luck. I think we do know where it is. Get up."
Harry said, gesturing with his wand for Lockhart to stand.
.-.
.
Extimum's mind went blank for a moment as his eyes remained fixed on the scene before him.
A smooth, pale back filled his vision for an instant before the image gave way to two small white rabbits, like gentle snow-covered hills, as Luna turned around.
Luna's hands moved with casual ease as she slowly removed the clothes she still had on, folding them neatly beside her bed.
Just as Luna's hands moved toward her trousers, Extimum snapped back to his senses with a slight start and quickly turned toward the curtains, intending to climb out of the bed.
Luna: "Where are you going? Weren't you the one who agreed to stay here and rest?"
Noticing his intention, Luna paused what she was doing and asked in confusion.
Her question brought Extimum to a halt. He had indeed agreed to stay, but he certainly hadn't expected Luna to casually begin undressing, especially considering she was already wearing her pajamas.
He hesitated.
He wasn't someone who went back on his word—or his commitments, for that matter—but the current situation...
After a few brief seconds of indecision, he ultimately stayed where he was. Even so, he still refused to turn around, keeping his back toward Luna.
Luna found the scene rather curious, but continued removing the rest of her clothes.
Luna: "Normally, I like sleeping without clothes. But ever since I came to Hogwarts, I haven't been able to, because if I happened to wander around in my sleep like that... it probably wouldn't end very well. But tonight, I have the feeling I won't sleepwalk."
'What kind of feeling is that?'
He genuinely wondered what sort of intuition could give someone enough confidence to sleep naked despite knowing about their sleepwalking problem. Yet, remembering that he himself sometimes experienced things that couldn't really be explained through common sense or logic, he decided not to dwell on it.
Only after hearing Luna slip beneath the covers did he finally relax enough to look back at her.
He had no such thoughts about Luna, nor did he see her that way. Even so, despite wearing the pendant, he still didn't feel entirely at ease, especially when whatever it was inside him had absolutely no reservations about anything and wasn't particularly picky whenever it managed to break free.
As those thoughts drifted through his mind, he suddenly felt two hands wrap around his abdomen before he was pulled beneath the blanket and into someone's embrace.
'Damn it... I shouldn't get so lost in my thoughts. That was careless.'
Extimum stiffened, not only because of the unfamiliar sensation of being picked up like that and hugged, but also because of the two small mounds he could clearly feel beneath him.
Luna: "You don't have to stay so far away. It's warmer over here."
As she spoke, Luna hugged him a little tighter.
Extimum truly wanted to point out that she shouldn't place so much trust in a magical creature she had only just met, and that with the thick fur of a nine-tailed fox, he wouldn't feel cold even in the middle of a snowstorm, so there was no need to bundle him up.
But since he currently happened to be a nine-tailed fox, all he could do was keep those comments to himself.
Luna simply smiled as she watched the fox poke his head out from beneath the blanket before resting it against her chest.
She didn't know why, but despite having only met the nine-tailed fox once before, she felt an inexplicable sense of closeness—and even trust. It was as though she simply knew he would never hurt her.
While Luna enjoyed the softness of his fur, Extimum, on the other hand, still couldn't quite feel comfortable with his current situation beneath the blankets. Even so, beyond the awkwardness and all the thoughts running through his mind, the situation itself was actually... rather pleasant.
Once he finally relaxed a little, being held in someone's embrace wasn't unpleasant at all.
Luna: "Hey, little— ahem What should I call you, then?"
She had been about to call the nine-tailed fox "little fox" when she abruptly stopped after sensing unmistakable annoyance accompanied by the faintest hint of hostility in those brilliant violet eyes beneath the blanket.
'Is she... actually expecting me to answer?'
Even so, seeing the anticipation in Luna's eyes, he somehow found himself convinced that she really was.
'I never planned on giving this form a name. It's not as if I ever intended to use it as an identity, so... a name... a name. Something simple. Just for now...'
'Mum.'
Luna: "Mum?"
Luna blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected an answer, but as she continued gazing into those brilliant violet eyes, the word slipped unconsciously from her own lips.
"That's a nice name. Mum... like Moon. Similar to me."
She smiled brightly, though her enthusiasm soon faded.
"Sigh Tell me, Mum... do you know how Extimum is doing?"
Extimum tilted his head to one side upon hearing the question. He wasn't sure how he should answer it—or whether he even should.
That uncertain gesture, however, had an entirely different effect on Luna. To her, the little fox had simply tilted his head and adopted an unusually thoughtful expression, one no ordinary magical creature should possess.
'Cute.'
The moment that thought crossed her mind, Mum abandoned his thoughtful look and narrowed his eyes as he stared directly at her.
Luna's eyes widened.
'Can he read my thoughts?'
Before her imagination could run any further, a single word mysteriously appeared in her mind, just as it had before.
'No.'
'He's fine. You'll see him again soon.'
Extimum wasn't actually reading her thoughts, but instinctively felt slightly insulted and shot Luna a suspicious look. Even so, he was able to subconsciously grasp what she was thinking from her expression and from the emotions he perceived around her.
Luna: "I'm glad he's alright. I was really worried when Professor Flitwick told us there was a very good chance the basilisk had taken him... or, even worse... that it had simply devoured him."
Luna spoke with obvious relief. Even though Bloom had already reassured her of the same thing before, she still hadn't been able to truly put her mind at ease.
After all, the mere possibility that the basilisk's victims might still be alive was already an incredibly optimistic assumption.
Why would a magical creature attack students just to kidnap them?
It wasn't as though a basilisk was among the magical creatures known for possessing the intelligence to think beyond its instincts.
Wouldn't it make far more sense for it to have simply devoured them?
The only thing keeping that hope alive was the possibility that the basilisk was being controlled by the Heir of Slytherin.
But hearing the same reassurance from Mum somehow made it feel undeniably real, and an invisible weight quietly lifted from her heart.
Luna: "I really don't know what I would've done if he really had..."
She never finished the sentence, yet for a brief moment, a heavy sorrow, accompanied by a darkness completely unlike her usual self, seemed to settle around her, drawing her into her thoughts.
Extimum blinked in surprise. He had never imagined he held such a special place in Luna's heart, or that he meant so much to her.
He would readily admit that he truly liked Luna. In fact, she had become one of the very few people to grow close to him in such a short time, to the point where he had almost come to think of her as a little sister.
However, representing something as profound and overwhelming as the emotions he could now see and feel gave an entirely different meaning to the affection he felt for her.
He couldn't help but feel that, in truth, he had been rather shallow, because feelings of such depth had only ever developed—albeit to a lesser extent—between himself and Bloom.
And he didn't believe he had done anything important enough to deserve feelings like those.
He couldn't help but feel moved.
He didn't want to see her sad anymore.
Luna remained lost in her thoughts for a moment until she was interrupted:
"What are you d-? Pfff... Hahahahahaha! Ah, w-wait! S-stop, it's too ticklish! Hahahaha! I'll die if you keep doing that! Hahahaha!"
Luna could barely see properly as she squirmed slightly, her eyes becoming clouded with tears of laughter.
She could vaguely make out Mum's head moving from side to side against her chest and something velvety tickling her underarms.
Luna: "S-stop... Hahaha! I-I can't take it anymore. Mmm~"
Extimum enjoyed himself for a moment as he watched her squirm like that from the tickling; however, when that final sound reached his ears, he suddenly froze as if he had been struck by lightning.
He had forgotten… that beneath the blanket, Luna was actually wearing nothing, and the place where the fur on Mum's head had been tickling her was, in reality, Luna's chest.
Luna: "Pant, pant... Sigh."
Luna, on the other hand, seemed completely unaware of the strange implication behind that final sound that had escaped her mouth.
"Thank you, Mum. I really needed that. Yawn. It's getting a little late already. Let's go to sleep."
Luna shifted slightly in bed and, still hugging Mum, closed her eyes to sleep.
Unlike her, however, it could not be said that Extimum was nearly as calm internally, feeling that his previous actions had been somewhat inappropriate, even by his own standards.
But seeing that Luna had not noticed and was even comfortable and happy enough to fall asleep, he decided to put the matter aside.
Before long, he could hear Luna's breathing becoming more steady and the emotional spectrum around her gradually fading away for the most part, symbolizing that she had finally entered the world of dreams.
Extimum remained like that for a while, silently watching her sleep from the shelter of her arms, with various thoughts running through his mind.
He felt tempted to simply give in and let his thoughts relax completely, falling asleep there beside her, but after a few minutes, he quickly shook off the idea.
'I still need to think of a good way to explain my disappearance, and besides…' —he thought in a more irritated tone—. 'Where did that little fairy disappear to? She didn't just mess with me once, but twice in a single day. All she had to do was leave me in my room, but instead, she not only dragged Luna into this, she also made me go through this whole mess.'
He was no longer truly angry. Much of his bad mood had disappeared after spending some time with Luna; however, he was still annoyed.
As he thought about it, his body began to deform in a strange manner. Some parts shrank in size, becoming softer and more flexible, allowing him to slowly and carefully slip out of the warm embrace he was trapped in.
Finally, after a few seconds, his body returned to normal. He stood up on the bed, gave Luna one last look, and finally jumped, passing through the canopy of the bed that separated him from the outside.
Upon landing on the floor, he looked around, but saw no sign of Bloom in the room, so he left and headed toward his own.
He was in no hurry to use the connection he had with her to find her and preferred to search for her the usual way.
The corridor outside was silent, with only the occasional murmur escaping from beneath the doors whose lights were still on.
It did not take him long to reach the end of the corridor and the staircase leading down to the common room.
The main lights were already off, and the room was illuminated only by the fireplace and a few scattered candles on the nearby reading tables.
There were still some students in the common room who had not yet gone to bed, but aided by the light of the flames and the thickness of the darkness, it was not a problem for Extimum to slip away unnoticed, even without using an illusion cloak.
Extimum: 'Hmm?'
As he descended the steps and approached the wall that would lead him to his private room, Extimum began to notice that something was wrong. Something did not feel quite right…
Extimum: 'Why does everything look so small?... No! Things aren't getting smaller, it's actually... Damn it!'
Things were not suddenly becoming smaller. Instead, his body was growing larger and larger with each passing second.
And as he grew, a massive shadow began to spread across the entire common room, made more prominent by the firelight in the midst of the darkness.
???: "H-hey... W-what is that?"
???: "What thing...? Ahhh!"
** Ahhh! **
A loud scream echoed throughout the common room, startling everyone who was still awake and waking those who were light sleepers.
.-.
**drip**
In a vast, dark underground chamber, water covered much of the floor.
s~ Cah in ush ch... su hash xan esh... ~s
"What did you say? You couldn't finish him off?"
s~ shs... ~s
"So... he disappeared. Interesting."
A brief silence followed.
"That isn't something just anyone could accomplish. Circumventing the castle's protections is beyond the abilities of an ordinary student... Unless Dumbledore was involved."
"No... He wouldn't grant that kind of freedom to one of his students."
s~ ash shs ei in cah ish in esh... ~s
"A pure-blood?"
s~ shs... ~s
"I see..."
The echo of dripping water once again filled the silence.
"Then perhaps he may still prove useful to me."
"...But no one ruins my plans and walks away unscathed. Did you use what I gave you in the event he was a pure-blood?"
s~ shs... ~s
"Good."
"If he survives... he'll remember that defying me has consequences."
.-.
The night outside the castle was peaceful.
The full moon hung high in the sky, bathing the landscape in its brilliant silvery light. The air was cool, though it still retained a faint trace of warmth in the occasional breeze, making it an especially pleasant night.
The faint chorus of crickets and cicadas filled the silence, further emphasizing the tranquility of the surroundings.
** Wind Whistling **
An indistinct sound drifted in from the distance, carried by the breeze.
**Step**
Along with the wind, another sound began to emerge. At first, it was barely perceptible, but little by little it grew clearer, while the rest of the night's sounds seemed to fade away, yielding the stage to it.
**Step**
The warm breeze blowing in from afar quickly turned cold as the sound became more distinct, as though the night itself were sinking into its deepest hours.
**Step**
Thin dark clouds began to gather around the moon, gradually obscuring its glow until the land was momentarily plunged into darkness.
The wind's whistle, once gentle, now sounded harsh and unsettling.
Flitwick: "He's here."
McGonagall: "Yes... I can see him."
Standing calmly at the castle entrance were the school's new Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, and Professor Filius Flitwick.
Both kept their eyes fixed on the nearby horizon, where an indistinct shadow was rapidly approaching.
The shadow advanced like a blink. One moment it occupied one place; the next, it appeared far closer, as though the space between the two points had simply ceased to exist.
McGonagall: "Sigh. Thank you for coming to keep me company, Professor Flitwick," she said wearily.
Flitwick: "Don't mention it. It is also my duty to be here as Head of House. Besides... this is partly my fault as well. I share the responsibility for allowing one of my students to face such an unknown fate," he replied in a subdued voice, devoid of his usual cheerfulness and enthusiasm.
Finally, after only a few seconds of waiting, the dark figure that had been approaching from the distance appeared before them.
The figure belonged to a young woman of around twenty-nine, tall and slender. She wore a form-fitting black dress that elegantly accentuated her figure, leaving parts of her shoulders, neck, and hips exposed, along with a long cloak as dark as the night itself.
Her face remained hidden behind a cloth mask attached to the hood of her cloak. Expressionless, the mask bore only faint, intricate markings around the eye area.
In one hand, she carried a long staff of polished dark wood.
She walked with a calm wholly at odds with the situation, as though she were strolling through a park on a peaceful spring afternoon—a stark contrast to the oppressive aura surrounding her.
With her arrival, the air seemed to grow heavier, shrouding the surroundings in an almost suffocating pressure. However, Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick were by no means weak or inexperienced wizards, and they quickly cast aside the sensation.
** Hahhh **
A long, heavy breath escaped the person before them as she came to a stop, sending a faint cloud of mist through her mask.
???: "Professor McGonagall, it's been a long time. Oh! That's right... you're the Headmistress now, aren't you?"
A soft, sweet voice emerged from the shadowy figure, creating a striking contrast. Yet, pleasant as it was to the ear, it sent faint chills down the listeners' spines, making the hairs on their bodies stand on end, as though it awakened an instinctive fear within them.
McGonagall: "It certainly has been a while. However, I'm quite sure you didn't come here simply to reminisce over old times and share a cup of tea, did you, Christelle?"
McGonagall remarked with a faint trace of displeasure as she looked over the witch's rather immodest attire.
Christelle: "Straight to the point, hmm... That's not very much like you, Headmistress, but I prefer it that way. It saves us both time." Her tone suddenly brightened. "Ah, Professor Flitwick! Don't think I've forgotten about you. You're certainly not someone who's easy to overlook, and seeing you again is even more nostalgic than seeing Headmistress McGonagall. I'm delighted to see you're in such excellent health."
Flitwick: "I—"
Flitwick's expression grew somewhat complicated as he looked at Christelle.
Christelle: "But let's put the pleasantries aside. There'll be time to catch up on our lives once we're finished. So, tell me... is there any news about my nephew yet?"
Flitwick looked slightly uncomfortable after being interrupted before he had the chance to speak, but he let the matter drop and waited for McGonagall to address the main issue instead.
McGonagall: "I'm afraid not—"
** Thump **
McGonagall had not even finished speaking when Christelle slightly raised the staff in her hand and struck it against the ground with a dull thud.
Immediately afterward, an illusory ripple spread outward from the point of impact, expanding across the surroundings until it collided with the castle gates before dissipating.
Christelle: "Oh? The school's defenses are better than I remember. It seems the legacy of generations of Headmasters hasn't been in vain."
Her voice carried a hint of surprise and playful amusement that contrasted with her composed demeanor.
Even so, it was impossible to tell what emotions truly lay behind her mask.
"Well then, Headmistress McGonagall, I hope you'll grant me the pleasure of a tour of the castle. After all, there's a giant serpent to find and eliminate... and, of course, my nephew to locate."
McGonagall was beginning to lose patience with Christelle's lack of respect toward both herself and Professor Flitwick. However, she quickly composed herself and took a deep breath before asking instead, with a hint of curiosity,
"Are you truly that confident in young Extimum's safety?"
Christelle: "Hmm? I don't know, really. Let's just say I have a feeling he's perfectly fine."
McGonagall: A feeling? Hmph. It must be some sort of family magic that monitors the condition of one's relatives.
She thought mockingly, unaware that her thoughts seemed to become noticeably more emotional whenever she was dealing with Christelle.
Without wasting another word, McGonagall and Flitwick led Christelle into the castle and began showing her around.
Since Christelle was a former student, the tour was little more than a courtesy before beginning a preliminary investigation.
Although the relationship between the three of them hardly seemed cordial, they managed to handle everything with the utmost professionalism, setting their personal feelings aside.
In truth, both of them sincerely hoped that Christelle would be able to discover something with her skills and experience, because they genuinely cared about the safety of their students.
However, there was one thing that ultimately left them puzzled. Christelle asked countless questions about Extimum, ranging from ordinary details of his daily life to matters directly related to the investigation.
It was almost as though... she didn't know Extimum at all, even going so far as to ask what he currently looked like.
Little did they know, that strange assumption was not far from the truth. Christelle was genuinely curious about this nephew she had never met, beyond a single photograph of him as a baby and knowing his name.
As the three of them made their way through the castle, the soft tapping of Christelle's staff against the floor never ceased.
.-.
"T-The monster went that way!"
"Warn the teachers!"
"N-no! h-help! it's coming my way!"
A cacophony of screams of terror, alarm and more cries for help spread from the Ravenclaw common room to the hallway leading to their entrance on the seventh floor.
The common room was a mess, with furniture overturned and books thrown everywhere, plus an occasional student huddled in a dark corner trembling with fear.
The surprise had been too much for the youngest among them.
There hadn't been many people to begin with in the common room, however, when the screams of a few drew the attention of those not yet asleep and even some who were, people soon came and witnessed it.
A huge figure at least three or four meters high, with an indiscernible shape completely covered by a purplish mist with scarce and almost imperceptible greenish hues.
The figure generated an ominous and terrifying sensation just by looking at it, as if the very sight of it provoked the deepest fears and nightmares in the hearts of each one of them. Those who did not faint, ran back to their rooms or remained frozen, barely trying to raise their wands.
With the current situation, no one hesitated to immediately associate it with the basilisk.
Before they had a chance, however, the snake-like figure slithered quickly out of the Ravenclaw tower, even though its size suggested that it should not have been able to exit through such a small entrance.
-
**Boom** **Boom** **Boom**
"Bombarda"
"Filipendo"
Extimum ran as fast as he could through the corridors of the castle, trying to find an exit or a place to hide.
Things had gotten out of control too quickly. He could not return to his true form, his magic was not responding to him and his body, now of large proportions, was covered with what looked like a hallucinogenic cloud that caused terror in all those who saw him.
With all the chaos, he could only rely on the abilities this form allowed him to try to find a place to hide while whatever was affecting him passed or find a way to eliminate it from himself.
The problem was... The castle itself was already in a state of emergency and surveillance due to the latest attacks. So there were blocked roads and patrols of seniors and teachers in the main corridors.
And if the above wasn't enough, either they all had a great deal of hatred and anger built up and it grew courageous or if the enveloping fog was affecting them in some way.
But as soon as they spotted him, they did not hesitate to run towards him with their wands and attack with all kinds of spells.
Although without a doubt, what frustrated him the most was when he overheard the conversation of some of the students as he fled from their attacks.
"Raimond, wait, don't you think it's dangerous? It's a basilisk after all, we should wait for the teachers, do you even want to die?"
"Dylan, we can't hesitate at this point, now that we are all gathered here, we can beat them, besides, here, just wear the magic glasses that Extimum created, with this at least we won't die."
"You're right, we will avenge Extimum and all the students who were attacked."
**Struendo**.
"Hey look, it looks like our attacks are finally affecting the basilisk."
"It must be that we have at last broken through their magical defense, comrades, follow me for revenge."
Extimum:' Damn it, I'm not dead, okay, don't just use my inventions as a reason to recklessly carry what you think is a basilisk, do you trust me that much?'
If it were anyone else they would have already spat blood upon hearing that conversation (:v), it was fine if they just wanted to pursue him, but now it seemed that one of the reasons that gave them enough courage to do so was his own invention that he had sold as a protection measure and worst of all many were charging in screaming vengeance on their behalf.
Extimum:'Come on, come on, my illusion magic, you just have to help me a little.'
He had already tried to mobilize all kinds of spells and his own illusion magic, but his link to his magic seemed as if it had sunk into dense mud, he could feel it, but not move it and the little illusion magic he managed to move was like sand slipping through his fingers.
There really wasn't much he could do, his appearance in front of everyone seemed to have provoked and inverted all those fearful negative feelings, for ones of hatred and rage that drove the bravest to go out and chase him.
The only bright side is that it forced the few teachers who had left to try to stop them from having accidents, otherwise they would not have had such an easy escape route until now.
.-.
Mcgonagall: "This is the place where the heir of Slytherin left his message and subsequently, students began to be attacked. Mr. Filch had to make a great effort to erase the blood stains from the wall and even so, there are still some more discreet marks due to magic."
Christelle: "This heir apparent certainly has very particular tastes."
Flitwick: "What do you mean?".
Christelle: "Well, it's just that, while the first words were written with the blood of the cat they found that time, these last ones were written with-".
"Quick, quick! It went that way."
"Don't let it slip away! and don't forget to wear your glasses."
"Stop! Stop right now, it's too dangerous. All students are to return to their common rooms. We teachers will deal with the creature."
Christelle's words were interrupted by the sound of shouting, arguing and the disorderly footsteps of students and a few teachers.
Under the mask, delicate eyebrows furrowed slightly at being interrupted, so she couldn't help but ask hesitantly.
Christelle: "Do they still do activities this late at night and with the current situation?".
"Uh..."
Flitwick was left speechless. The answer was, of course, No. But the scene he witnessed only a few corridors away made him wonder, if only for a moment, whether there was something he hadn't been aware of.
Unconsciously, he cast McGonagall a questioning glance.
His innuendo went unanswered, however, because Mcgonagall was just as surprised as the two of them.
Mcgonagall: 'What's going on?'
The castle had been very quiet and still a while back when she went out to wait for the uninvited visitor with Professor Flitwick when she sensed someone crossing the barriers of Hogwarts.
The students had clearly been in their common rooms and in somber moods, most had even gone to bed early, so the scene in front of her was no less disconcerting.
Without hesitation, she hurried over until she reached the area where the stream of students was passing by.
It didn't take long to notice one of the teachers in the crowd, who was currently detaining some students and trying to stop some others from getting through.
Even so, their efforts did not prove too fruitful, as many had made it through their net.
McGonagall: "Professor Sinistra. Could you tell me what's happening here?"
Sinistra: "H-Headmistress McGonagall. gasp The monster, the basilisk, appeared and—"
Before Professor Sinistra could finish speaking, a shadow rushed past her, forcing its way through the cluster of students standing in place before quickly disappearing into the crowd that was fleeing not far away.
Sinistra: "Uh... Who was she?"
McGonagall: "She is the representative of the Izorim family. Please, continue your explanation."
McGonagall didn't want to leave Christelle on her own, but she first needed to fully understand the situation and organize a plan of action as quickly as possible.
After all, she was no longer just another professor at the school; she now had additional responsibilities as Headmistress.
Sinistra: "Very well. The basilisk has appeared, and this time it isn't hiding like before. It's roaming through the school. It was first spotted in the Ravenclaw common room, and given how close the two common rooms are, the news didn't take long to reach Gryffindor Tower."
Flitwick: "What? How could it have appeared there? What about the students? Are they alright? Are you absolutely certain it was the basilisk? Did you see it?"
Flitwick nearly jumped when he heard where the basilisk had appeared and immediately began questioning her about the situation.
Sinistra: "Uh... I didn't actually get a clear look at it with my own eyes. I was finishing the collection of third-year assignments when I heard the commotion outside. When I stepped out, all I saw was a crowd of students running and a large, indistinct shadow disappearing down one of the corridors."
Flitwick frowned at her words.
"You didn't see it clearly? Then how do you know it was the basilisk? And what about the students? How are they?"
Sinistra: "Although I didn't see it clearly, every student fleeing the area insisted they had seen the basilisk. Besides, I could hear a faint hissing sound and detect a subtle trace of corrosiveness in the air, characteristic of basilisk venom."
Sinistra frowned slightly in annoyance. She wasn't enjoying this interrogation in the slightest, but with McGonagall present, she could understand Flitwick's concern.
The moment she mentioned the words "basilisk venom," the color drained from both McGonagall's and Flitwick's faces. Noticing their reaction, Sinistra quickly added,
"But it was far too faint to pose any real danger. Only someone who had encountered that venom before would have been able to recognize it. I had that experience some time ago while examining some potion ingredients.
As for the students, several of them were partially petrified after encountering it and have already been taken to the Hospital Wing by Madam Pomfrey. Fortunately, nothing too serious has happened so far.
Apparently, every student who ran to confront it was wearing a pair of special glasses. After asking around, I learned they were a magical device sold by Extimum, supposedly capable of allowing someone to survive the basilisk's gaze, though of course they do nothing to prevent the effects of petrification."
Mcgonagall: "Okay, I understand the situation. Please continue to restrain the students, I will go meet with the other teachers and then we will figure out a way to deal with the basilisk. Professor Flitwick, will you come with me?".
Flitwick: "Of course."
.-.