Ever since Valentine's Day, Harry had felt like the unluckiest person alive.
First he'd been put on the spot by Lockhart's dwarves and mocked by everyone, and then he'd had nightmares several nights in a row.
Calling them nightmares wasn't quite right—what he saw in his dreams was a long, shadowy figure, like a snake.
The snake was always crawling along the pipes, appearing suddenly when someone least expected it and killing them outright.
It frightened him so badly that these past few nights he hadn't dared get up to use the toilet. Every night he stayed awake until he was dizzy before he could finally fall asleep, and the next day he'd go to class with dark circles under his eyes.
If Hermione and Kate hadn't been tutoring him, he'd almost certainly have failed his final exams.
"Have you heard? The rumors about the Chamber of Secrets have been updated. They say the Chamber was built by Slytherin himself, that there's a monster kept inside it, and that only Slytherin's heir can open the Chamber and control the monster!"
Ron related the gossip with great gravity as he ate. "They say fifty years ago, someone died at the hands of that monster."
The Chamber of Secrets. A monster.
Harry, who was drinking pumpkin juice, suddenly furrowed his brow. He had a hunch that the dreams he'd been having lately must be connected to this rumor.
"Hermione, let's go to the library." As always, Kate came over to the Gryffindor table to find her, then glanced at Harry and asked, "Do you need my help tutoring today?"
Just as Harry was hesitating, Ron, beside him, gave a sudden, heavy cough.
They had agreed on this privately long ago—to trouble Kate as little as possible and create chances for the two girls to be alone. That was what a decent friend ought to do.
But Harry's spirits had genuinely been poor of late, so much so that not bothering Kate simply wasn't an option.
Besides, today he had something important he wanted to ask her.
"Kate." He jumped abruptly to his feet, glanced hesitantly at Hermione, and lowered his voice. "I've got something to talk to you about—just the two of us, is that all right?"
Tilting her head in mild surprise, Kate looked at Hermione. "Then you..."
"I'll go save us seats in the library," Hermione said, rising with understanding. "Ron, let's go."
Ron, dragged off against his will, stared at Harry with a face full of question marks for a good while before reluctantly leaving.
Kate shrugged and said to Harry, "Then let's talk as we walk."
The two of them left the Great Hall one after the other. Kate walked at an unhurried pace, taking in the scenery beyond the castle as she went.
Harry followed behind her, his expression noticeably uneasy.
Only when they reached a deserted corridor did she stop, turn her head, and plant her hands on her hips rather impatiently. "If you've got something to say, then hurry up and ask."
Hermione was still waiting for her in the library.
"Oh..." Harry started, then hurried forward two steps, a trace of unease showing in his emerald-green eyes. "Kate, since you're a Slytherin, you must know what's in the Chamber of Secrets, right?"
Heaven only knew how much inner struggle it had taken for him to work up the courage to ask her.
Dreaming of a monster killing people was, even in the magical world, a matter of the occult—and on top of that, he hadn't even started studying Divination yet.
But that dream had simply been too real—so real that he'd felt as if he'd gone back fifty years and witnessed the actual scene of the monster in the Chamber emerging to kill.
He needed someone to tell him what exactly the monster in the Chamber of Secrets was.
"The Chamber of Secrets?" Kate frowned. "Why are you so interested in this legend? Or do you think you're a descendant of Slytherin?"
Harry was momentarily speechless, but quickly began explaining in a fluster. "No! I'm not asking because of the rumor, it's because... because..."
Perhaps his anxious manner moved Kate a little, for she gave a light cough before saying, "Although our Shafiq family never intermarried with Slytherin's descendants, our ancestors did have dealings with them.
"According to records left by some of my kin, Slytherin really did build a Chamber of Secrets inside Hogwarts, one that only he and his descendants could open by a certain method.
"But whether there's a monster in the Chamber... what I've heard about that is only rumor as well, and can't be taken as truth."
"Even a rumor is fine!" Harry's eyes lit up. He'd known it—Kate, with her family's scholarly heritage, was sure to know some of the inside story.
"Kate, I—I really, truly need to know what monster is hidden in the Chamber of Secrets. Please, you have to tell me!"
He pressed forward excitedly, until his face was almost right up against hers.
Kate instinctively took a step back, frowning in bewilderment. "What do you want to know all this for?"
"Just tell me first!"
"Fine..." Seeing him in such a state, Kate finally relented and said quietly, "I've heard before that a Basilisk is hidden in Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets. If it's actually true, then that Basilisk is probably over a thousand years old by now."
A Basilisk?
And the long, shadowy figure in his dream?
Harry's breathing grew heavy, and he stared in disbelief at the wall beside him.
If his dream wasn't wrong, then the Basilisk truly did exist—and it could travel through the pipes inside the walls to kill!
"It's odd, though," Kate said, stroking her chin. "No one's brought up this legend in years, and for some reason it's suddenly become popular again this year. Who do you suppose brought it up?"
Who else could it be?
It had to be Slytherin's heir!
That person wanted to open the Chamber of Secrets once more and unleash the Basilisk!
Ordinarily, Harry wouldn't have been so certain based on nothing more than the coincidence between a dream and a rumor.
But half a month of unbroken nightmares had already left him with signs of nervous exhaustion, and even clutching at an ambiguous clue, he couldn't stop himself from reasoning further along this line of thought.
"Kate," he said, gripping her arm with considerable agitation, "someone must be behind this, pulling the strings. We have to follow these clues and keep investigating!"
"What? Why would you think that?" Kate looked at him with a face full of question marks, then bit by bit pried his hand off her arm. "Harry, is it maybe that you haven't been resting well lately, which is why—"
Harry said helplessly, "No—believe me. It's because lately I keep dreaming of scenes from fifty years ago. I dreamed the Basilisk killed a Wizard. This has to be some kind of warning!"
"But why is it only you who dreamed it, when no one else did?" Kate asked, puzzled. "Could it possibly be because of your scar?"
Harry was momentarily lost for words. He instinctively touched the scar on his forehead—it was as calm as ever, with nothing happening at all.
"So you see, it's probably just that your nerves are too frayed." Kate offered this comfort with a cheerful smile, then remembered something. "Oh, right—they say Myrtle was one of the victims fifty years ago. If you're still not reassured, you could go and ask her."
With that, she ignored Harry's half-spoken words and simply walked away.
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