The Potions classroom was quiet except for the soft bubbling of the cauldrons. Professor Snape stood at the front, speaking in his usual cold, measured tone.
"Before attempting a Swelling Solution, one must understand the balance between expansion and instability," he said, eyes sweeping the room. "A single careless addition—too much puffer-fish, too little dried nettle—will not merely ruin your potion, but produce results I assure you will regret."
Most students were at least pretending to listen.
Ron wasn't.
He stood stiffly, staring straight at Victor two rows ahead, his expression full of suspicion. Victor, meanwhile, was calmly preparing his ingredients, completely ignoring him.
Ron's glare could have bored holes through stone.
Harry, beside him, nudged his elbow slightly. "Ron… potion."
Ron ignored him.
Parseltongue. Snakes. Chamber.
His thoughts kept circling back to the same conclusion.
What Ron didn't notice—
Was Snape moving.
He drifted between the rows without sound, his presence more felt than heard. One moment he was at the front of the room, the next he was standing directly behind Ron.
Then—
A cold hand came down on the back of Ron's head.
Ron jumped.
"Remarkable," Snape said softly. "Even in a room full of boiling cauldrons, Mr. Weasley manages to find something less dangerous to focus on."
A few students snickered.
Ron went red.
Snape's grip shifted slightly, forcing Ron's attention forward.
"I assume," Snape continued, "that the back of Mr. Malfoy's head contains some rare magical property unknown to the rest of us."
More laughter, mostly from Slytherin.
"Or perhaps," Snape went on smoothly, "you are attempting to improve your potion through sheer observation, a method I regret to inform you has never worked."
He released Ron's head.
"Now," Snape said, his voice turning colder, "unless you intend to present your findings to the class, I suggest you direct what little attention you possess toward your cauldron."
Ron turned back immediately, gripping his knife harder than necessary.
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape said coldly.
Hermione sighed under her breath, closing her eyes for a brief moment. Brilliant. Ron and his courage—even in class he manages to get us into trouble. She had been hoping that this year, at least, Gryffindor might have a real chance at the House Cup.
"Is there something wrong with Ron?" Victor asked quietly. "He's been staring at me like he's trying to hex me without a wand."
Hermione hesitated.
Before she could answer, another loud bang echoed through the dungeon. Seamus had managed to blow up his cauldron again, sending smoke everywhere.
Snape turned sharply, robes billowing. "Mr. Finnigan," he said in a dangerously soft voice, "your consistent ability to turn basic instructions into catastrophe is almost… admirable."
While Snape's attention shifted, Hermione leaned forward slightly.
"Ron thinks you're the Heir of Slytherin," she said in a low voice. "And that you opened the Chamber of Secrets."
She said it plainly, without drama, as if stating something she didn't believe herself.
Victor blinked once.
"…That is quite a theory," he said calmly.
At first, it sounded ridiculous.
Then, for a brief moment, he actually thought it through.
From Ron's perspective, it almost made sense. Pure-blood family, Slytherin house, interest in unusual magic—and the Malfoy name didn't exactly help his case. It wasn't a logical conclusion, but it wasn't entirely baseless either.
Hermione watched him carefully.
Victor's reaction was far too calm.
She exhaled quietly. Yes… Ron is definitely wrong.
Then Victor spoke again, his tone shifting slightly.
"But I know some things about the Chamber of Secrets—and the creature inside it. We should talk after class," said Victor.
The accusation didn't unsettle him. Instead, it gave him something far more useful—direction.
An idea took shape, sharp and tempting.
If he approached it the right way, he might not need to struggle through the slow, frustrating process of learning Parseltongue at all. There could be another way—to open the entrance.
Hermione's expression changed immediately.
"You do?" she asked, surprised.
"Yes," he said. "We should talk after class."
Hermione stared at him, caught between curiosity and confusion.
After class, Victor didn't head back to the Slytherin common room. Instead, he paused in the corridor and glanced at the three of them.
"Come with me," he said.
There was something in his tone that made them follow without questioning.
They walked out of the castle and onto the wooden bridge. The wind moved steadily across it, carrying a cold edge from the mountains beyond. Victor stopped near the railing, looking out into the distance for a moment as if gathering his thoughts.
Then he spoke.
"Ron," he said calmly, "your guess was entirely wrong."
Ron stiffened.
Victor turned slightly toward them.
"I'm not the Heir of Slytherin," he continued, "but I do know about the Chamber of Secrets … and what kind of creature Salazar Slytherin left behind."
Harry and Ron exchanged a quick look, both visibly surprised.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
Victor's expression remained composed.
"A basilisk," he said. "One of the most dangerous magical beasts known. It would be more accurate to call it a dark magical creature."
He let that sink in before continuing.
"It's a massive serpent. Its venom is extremely potent—one bite is enough to kill almost instantly. But that's not the worst part."
The wind shifted slightly as he spoke.
"Its eyes are the real danger. Direct eye contact with a basilisk results in immediate death."
Ron swallowed hard.
"If the gaze is indirect—through a reflection, water, or something similar—the effect is reduced. Instead of killing, it causes petrification."
Harry frowned slightly, piecing it together.
"That's what happened to Mrs. Norris," he said quietly.
Victor nodded once.
Hermione stepped forward, her curiosity overtaking everything else.
"But how do you know all this?" she asked.
*****
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