Hermione spun around so fast she nearly slammed into the bookshelf behind her.
Julien Black stood two steps away, holding Ancient Runes and the Decoding of Runic Stones. His emerald eyes carried that same knowing little smile.
"Julien!" Hermione hissed. "You scared me half to death!"
"Sorry." He stepped closer, gaze dropping to the stack of books in her arms—Fatal Weaknesses of Magical Creatures. One eyebrow lifted. "Looks like you've pieced something together, Hermione."
Her heart skipped. She searched his face for any trace of teasing or fakeness, but all she saw was deep, tired seriousness.
"I have an idea," she whispered. "Harry, Ron, and I noticed all the spiders in the castle are fleeing outside. Then Hagrid said his chickens were all killed, necks wrung. So I thought—"
She stopped. Julien didn't look surprised at all.
"You already knew, didn't you?" It wasn't a question.
"At the Duelling Club, when Harry spoke Parseltongue, you didn't even blink. You even joked about wanting to learn a couple phrases. You knew what was in the Chamber, didn't you?"
Julien didn't deny it. He slid his book back onto the shelf, movements slow, like he was weighing every word.
"I guessed some of it," he said finally. "Not everything. Hermione… have you ever thought that knowing too much can be dangerous?"
"Don't give me that cryptic crap!" Her voice trembled with bottled-up anger. "Another person's been petrified! Penelope Clearwater—your Ravenclaw prefect! If we knew the truth, maybe we could—"
"Could what?" Julien cut in, still calm. "Go fight the monster alone? You're brilliant, Hermione. Smarter than almost anyone here. But smart isn't the same as reckless."
He took one step closer. Close enough that she caught the faint scent of ink and something colder—pine needles after snow, or ancient stone buried deep underground.
"You just asked what spiders fear most," he said quietly. "And what chickens fear. You've already connected the dots. Why ask me?"
Hermione's breath caught.
Pieces slammed together in her mind: the fleeing spiders, Hagrid's slaughtered chickens, Myrtle's death in a damp, dark bathroom, the Chamber opened and closed fifty years ago, Slytherin's symbol—
"A snake," she breathed, voice barely audible. "But what kind of snake could Slytherin hide in the castle for centuries without anyone noticing?"
The answer hit her like a Bludger. She spun and raced back to the shelf, eyes locking on the thick volume: Creatures You Never Want to See—The Basilisk.
"It's a Basilisk!" she gasped. "The monster in Slytherin's Chamber is a Basilisk! It's terrified of roosters—that's why Hagrid's chickens were killed… It eats spiders—that's why every spider in the castle is running away…"
She couldn't finish. Her face went deathly white.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Hurt edged her voice.
"Because I only just connected it when you said it out loud…" Julien's gaze drifted past her to the black night outside the window. "And some truths hit harder when you figure them out yourself."
"That's it?" Hermione felt the excuse was ridiculous. "What could possibly be more important than saving people or stopping the crisis at school?"
"Because…" Julien paused. "Because I couldn't risk it."
"What?"
"I couldn't gamble that everything would follow the path it was 'supposed' to. I have my own task."
"I don't understand you anymore," she snapped. "What are you even talking about?"
Hermione wanted to push, but Madam Pince's voice cut through the stacks like a whip. "No shouting in the library! Closing time!"
Julien stepped back, picked up his runes book again, and it was like the conversation had never happened.
He turned and vanished into the maze of shelves. Hermione stood alone, the books in her arms suddenly feeling like lead.
Outside the window, an owl streaked across the black sky, heading who-knows-where.
In some forgotten corner of the castle, Ginny Weasley clutched the black notebook tight, whispering in a dream only she could hear with something ancient and evil.
The doors of the Chamber were opening wider.
---
Hermione hugged Creatures You Never Want to See—The Basilisk to her chest. The heavy vellum cover felt like cold stone against her ribs.
The library candles were far behind her now. Her footsteps echoed alone down the empty corridor—hollow, lonely.
Her brain still raced. A Basilisk—Slytherin's monster, a giant serpent that had lived for a thousand years. How had it moved through the castle without anyone spotting it?
A faint hiss… scrape came from inside the left wall—scales sliding over stone.
Hermione froze. Blood turned to ice in her veins. The book nearly slipped from her arms.
The sound was soft, like fingernails scratching behind the plaster, or something huge and soft slithering through narrow pipes.
Snakes could move through pipes.
Hogwarts had thousands of them—water, drainage, heating—twisting like a maze behind every wall.
If the Basilisk lived in those pipes, it could reach any corner of the castle without ever being seen.
The thought made every hair on her body stand up. If that thing was right behind the thin stone beside her right now…
Hermione bit her lip hard and forced her shaking legs to move. There was a corner ahead. The scraping grew louder, faster, like something was rushing straight toward the junction.
Never look it in the eyes. The warning from the book flashed in her mind.
Trembling, she tucked the book under one arm and fumbled in her bag for the small mirror she used for checking her hair—silver frame etched with delicate patterns.
She took a deep breath, raised the mirror over her head, and angled it around the corner, using the reflection to peer ahead.
The mirror showed the dim corridor, torchlight dancing on the walls. She saw pipe shadows, dusty corners—then the stone seemed to shift—
A pale hand shot out from behind her, clamped over her mouth, and yanked her backward by the collar.
"Mmmph—!"