Capítulo 87: Chapter 87: The Entrance of the Chamber of Secrets
Ron was insistent, asserting to his older brother Percy, "We have important information for Professor McGonagall! You have to let us go!" Out of all his brothers, Percy was the one who annoyed Ron the most with his officious demeanor.
Percy was obviously nettled at his brother's disrespect, yet he kept his annoyance in check, stating rather calmly, "Professor McGonagall isn't in her office right now. All the other Professors are otherwise engaged. Your news can certainly wait until the dawn."
Quite predictably, it wasn't just Percy among the prefects who obstructed Harry and Ron's way out of the castle, indicating Professor McGonagall's firm directives before her departure.
Left with no alternatives, Harry and Ron retreated to their dormitories, deciding to apprise the Professors about their findings in the morning.
At the same time, key Professors of Hogwarts had gathered in the austere office of the Headmaster.
Dumbledore, with his usual air of composure, was addressing Professor McGonagall, "Arrange for the students' safe journey home tomorrow, Minerva. As for all of the staff, they can stay here if they prefer or take the train home." His words echoed in the room, laden with irrevocable finality.
The bewilderment on the Professors' faces said it all.
The impossibility of Hogwarts, an institution of magical learning almost a thousand years old, closing its doors was unfathomable. Particularly so, under the watch of Dumbledore, perhaps the most venerated Headmaster in the history of Hogwarts.
The idea was ludicrous, to say the least.
Professor Sprout could barely suppress her tears, her voice shaking as she asked, "Has it come to such an irredeemable stage?"
Professor McGonagall, usually stern-faced, looked equally forlorn. She remained silent, as if the words had become too real, too heavy to process.
Professor Flitwick shook his head in disbelief, while the ever-stoic Snape's face bore a stricken, pallid cast – the furrowed brow indicative of his inner turmoil and wonder, if Dumbledore was indeed cornered.
Observing their reactions, Dumbledore offered a reassuring chuckle, "Don't look so crestfallen, as if we're going to part ways. The closure is but a temporary measure. Once we can vouch for the student's security, we will resume normal teaching protocols." Sinking back in his chair, he added, "Tonight's patrol will need preparations. Let's not invite trouble on our final night. Maybe, just maybe, we might stumble upon some unexpected findings, or even apprehend the culprit before shutdown."
As the meeting drew to a close, the four Heads of Houses, emotionally spent, made their way out of Dumbledore's office, all except one – Sherlock Forester.
His attention captured by the deep, contemplative look in Dumbledore's eyes, he asked, "Are you going to leave Hogwarts tonight?"
Dumbledore simply tapped his fingers on the desk, his mind elsewhere, "For him, its an excellent opportunity, but not a perfect one. We need to give him a solid sense of security." His eyes shifted to a piece of paper on his desk, "Also, there's a crucial matter that needs my attention tomorrow."
Sherlock managed to glimpse the signing – "Nicolas Flamel"
Sherlock, looking scrupulous, asked again, "And if things don't pan out with Riddle as you expect them to?"
A small smirk played on Dumbledore's lips, "Then, we'll initiate a massive search once Hogwarts closes down. We'll continue until we find the Basilisk."
"But what about your reputation..."
Dumbledore's response came in a nonchalant tone, "Do you really believe I concern myself with such things, Sherlock? I would gladly trade it for tangible benefits, if it were possible. General, abstract opinions hold no appeal for me."
As Sherlock moved to leave, he mused on Dumbledore's plan. He suspected that the chances of failure were just as sizeable as the chance of success. However, he chose to hold his peace.
As Sherlock made to leave the office, Dumbledore's voice stopped him, "Whatever happens, Harry must be protected. And don't forget the item I gave you."
Nodding his understanding, Sherlock left the office, his back turned to Dumbledore.
...
Restlessness pervaded the castle on that final night, almost all the students, including Harry and Ron, tossed and turned, barely managing to catch a few winks just before sunrise. Upon waking, they discovered the day had broken.
Freshening up, they noticed Neville's empty bed!
"Where could Neville have run off to now?" Harry wondered.
Neither Dean nor Seamus, their roommates, had any idea of Neville's whereabouts.
Sensing trouble, Harry and Ron darted out of their dormitory, unimpeded this time by any prefects.
Failing to locate Professor McGonagall in her office, they bumped into Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House ghost, in the corridor.
Nick seemed to carry sad tidings, sighing heavily as he floated down the hallway.
Upon seeing him, Harry hastily asked, "Nick, do you know where we can find Professor McGonagall?"
"The Professor?" Nick sighed again, "I've just seen the Professors gathering in the staff room. That's where you might find her."
Heapful, Harry replied, "Thank you, Nick!"
However, as Harry and Ron turned to head toward the staff room, they overheard Nick murmuring, "It never came to this when Moaning Myrtle died fifty years ago... but now Hogwarts is really closing.."
Harry stopped in his tracks, looking shell-shocked while Ron appeared baffled.
"What is it? We need to find the Professors quickly," echoed Ron's urgency.
Yet, Harry's eyes looked supercharged with newfound realization.
Harry ignored Ron and turned back to Nick, pressing, "Did you just say Moaning Myrtle died fifty years ago?"
Nick, clearly overwrought about the thought of Hogwarts closing, responded, "Yes, indeed she did. Fifty years ago, the Chamber had been opened, and poor Myrtle was found dead in one of the washrooms on the first floor. But even then, Hogwarts wasn't shut down. And now..."
Harry, using his sudden burst of adrenaline to good use, exclaimed, "That's it! That's where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets must be!"
Ron, still perplexed, could not comprehend Harry's sudden wave of excitement.
"Don't you get it, Ron? Listen, the monster from the Chamber killed Moaning Myrtle fifty years ago, right? She was found dead in a first-floor washroom and has been haunting it ever since. The washrooms are all connected to the pipes that the monster uses to travel!" Harry excitedly explained to Ron as they dashed towards the staff room, "Hence, there's a high possibility that the washroom is an entrance to the Chamber! Come on we have to tell the Professors, quickly!"
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_Riux
_Riux I feel like people are losing interest in this story, in all aspects the past week was the worst one yet. Makes me appreciate those of you who still come to read every day - so thanks for that :)!
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