93: Chapter 93 Breathing in the Pipes

"Are you really going out now?"

Draco blocked the dormitory door, a coat thrown over his sleeping robe, his hair messy.

"You warned us just last night not to leave the Dungeon, and tonight you're running off yourself?"

Allen tucked his blackthorn wand into his sleeve and picked up Hogwarts: A History》 to cover it.

"I'm going to the corridor to clear my head."

Draco sneered.

"You? Clear your head? This excuse is even faker than Gilderoy Lockhart."

Nott closed his book.

"Is there movement in the corridor?"

Allen glanced at him.

"The pipes."

Draco's expression changed, his anger suppressed.

"The Basilisk?"

Allen didn't answer and pulled the door open.

Draco reached out to stop him, but before his wrist could touch Allen's sleeve, a Spatial Displacement shifted him, and his hand slid onto the doorframe.

Draco stared at his wrist.

"You do this every time."

"So don't try to stop me."

Nott stood up and placed a knut into Allen's palm.

"If Filch gets close, I'll have the portrait at the entrance of the Common Room cough three times. The portrait owes the Nott family a favor."

Draco turned his head.

"Portraits can owe favors too?"

"They can, especially a portrait saved from a fire by my grandfather."

Allen put away the knut.

"No need to follow."

Draco gritted his teeth.

"I wasn't planning on following. If I get caught, my father will mail me home."

"Very good."

The stone door closed behind him.

The Dungeon corridor was damp and cold, the sound of water in the walls merging into a low hum. While ordinary students could only hear the old pipes rattling, what Allen heard was the rebound of space being squeezed.

A giant creature had just passed by.

He pressed the knut into a crack in the wall, his wand turning slightly within his sleeve.

Spatial Perception spread out along the pipes, extending from the Slytherin Dungeon all the way to the second floor.

The old pipes intersected with the secret passages of the Chamber of Secrets; many paths had been repaired and altered by later generations, but they still retained openings leading into the depths.

In his Portable Space, the void swam along the northern boundary, its silver pupils constantly correcting its direction.

Peter shrank in his cage, his mouth sealed by a silence charm, but fear was written all over his face.

Allen released a sliver of sound.

Peter immediately screamed.

"Don't follow, definitely don't follow! The Basilisk is too fast in the pipes; its eyes are more dangerous than spells."

"It being awakened means the diary has already started feeding on that girl's life."

Allen asked.

"How long until it has full control?"

"It depends on how much she has written, and how much she believes."

Peter swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

"Lonely little witches are the easiest to trick. Tom acts as a friend, listens to her complaints, keeps her secrets, and then takes her over bit by bit."

Allen added this judgment to his mind.

Ginny had just started school, was sensitive, worshipped Harry, and was afraid of the strange environment. A diary that would respond to her was enough to pry open her defenses.

"Time of attack?"

"At first, it's just testing the doors and letting it patrol. Only when the diary can borrow her body to act will it start writing and attacking."

Peter said urgently.

"The first person to be petrified usually runs into its gaze."

Allen cut off the sound.

Peter slapped the cage silently.

Footsteps came from the end of the corridor.

Allen embedded himself into a Spatial Thin Layer.

Filch walked by with a lantern, and Madam Norris sniffed the wall where he was hiding, her cat eyes pausing for a moment.

Allen flicked the knut out.

The coin rolled toward the stairs on the other side, hitting the feet of a suit of armor.

Madam Norris turned her head, and Filch chased after it, cursing.

"Damn little brats, I know someone is wandering at night."

As the footsteps faded, Allen exited the Spatial Thin Layer and followed the vibrations of the pipes upward.

The closer he got to the second floor, the stronger the Castle's response became.

Deep within the walls, the ancient wards identified his bloodline, and incomplete coordinates emerged one by one.

Pool, snake emblem, opening, sleeping, danger.

The second-floor corridor was empty.

Cold light leaked from the crack of the door to the Girls Bathroom where Moaning Myrtle resided, and the sound of dripping water was constant inside.

Allen didn't go in; he only stopped in the shadow of the armor opposite.

A heavy sliding sound came from deep within the pipes.

Spatial Perception tightened; the creature was swimming upward from the depths, its body hugging the main passage as it turned, its scales rubbing against the stone walls, forcing the water in the smaller pipes to flow backward.

Its size exceeded estimates; the entire section of the wall was strained tight.

The void in the Portable Space lifted its head, its body taut, and its silver pupils reflected a blurry outline.

It didn't retreat; instead, it pressed against the northern boundary, its tail tip pinning down the ebony box.

The cracked pocket watch flashed a bit of blue in the crack of the box.

The Basilisk stopped below the second floor.

Allen closed his eyes and traced its position.

Its massive head pressed against the shaft, its tongue flicking out and back in.

It was waiting for orders, and also looking for something.

A few breaths later, light footsteps came from the Girls Bathroom.

Someone was inside.

Allen didn't move.

A girl's suppressed gasp came from inside the door, followed by the sound of turning pages.

Ginny Weasley was likely sitting by the sink, writing a new sentence in the black-covered diary.

The Basilisk in the wall started to turn.

It didn't come out.

The diary's control wasn't strong enough yet; Ginny hadn't completely lost consciousness.

The Basilisk only swam in a circle in the pipes, bypassed the area below the washroom, and slid back into the depths.

Allen took out a piece of parchment and wrote down his notes in the shadows.

Time window: before Ginny's energy is exhausted.

The diary cannot yet stably drive the Basilisk to leave the pipes.

Before the first attack, the Castle will have traces of multiple door-testing attempts.

Moaning Myrtle's high-pitched crying came from inside the Girls Bathroom.

"You're writing again. None of you pay attention to me, you only know how to write. No one cares that I died here!"

Ginny said in a panic.

"I'm sorry, I just… I'm leaving right now."

The sound of a book closing followed.

The diary had been taken away.

Allen put away the parchment and turned to leave.

Another set of footsteps came from the stairs, steadier and colder than Filch's.

Snape had arrived.

Allen didn't hide.

Escaping into the Spatial Thin Layer at this moment would only leave an anomaly.

He pressed his wand back into his sleeve and leaned against the window, striking a pose of someone caught wandering at night.

A black robe appeared from the shadows of the stairs.

Snape saw him, no surprise on his face, only the coldness of having waited for his prey.

"Mr. Potter."

He approached.

"It seems the bed in the Slytherin Dungeon is harder for you to find than the Forbidden Forest."

Allen looked down at the book in his hand.

"I got lost."

Snape scanned the book cover.

"Getting lost outside the second-floor Girls Bathroom while holding Hogwarts: A History》?"

"The book says the stairs move."

"Do you intend to stuff all of Hogwarts' rules into a single piece of nonsense?"

"If it's useful."

Snape stopped three steps away, his gaze sweeping past Allen's cuffs and then toward the washroom.

Moaning Myrtle was still crying, the faucet was dripping, and the air carried the smell of damp, old iron.

"What did you hear here?"

"Crying."

"Anything else?"

"The sound of water."

Snape's black eyes pressed down.

"Think again."

Legilimency struck silently, finer than yesterday, trying to pry open a gap from the edge of his memory.

The extra-dimensional layer on the outside of Allen's soul naturally unfolded, swallowing all the probing, leaving only organized fragments on the outer layer.

Clearing his head in the corridor, reading, hearing crying, standing by the window.

Clean, student-like, impeccable.

Snape withdrew the probe, his face even darker.

"It's always so clean every time."

He asked in a low voice.

"Where exactly do you hide the dirty things?"

Allen looked at him.

"Does the Professor want to search me?"

Snape sneered.

"You hope I can't find evidence, and then continue to play the victimized student?"

"I hope to go back to sleep."

The two locked eyes.

A vibration of a massive creature brushing past came from deep within the walls again.

Snape immediately turned his head, his wand sliding into his hand.

Allen looked at the wall half a beat late, pretending to be startled by the Professor's reaction.

Snape stared at the wall.

"Did you hear that just now?"

"The water pipes rattling."

"Return to the Dungeon."

Snape withdrew his wand.

"From today on, if I see you on the second floor after nine o'clock at night, twenty points from Slytherin, plus a week of detention."

Allen nodded and turned to leave.

When he reached the stairs, Snape spoke again.

"Potter."

Allen paused.

"Don't test the Castle with your life. Hogwarts has buried many clever students."

"Thank you, Professor."

When Allen returned to the Dungeon, Draco and Nott weren't asleep yet.

The fireplace in the Common Room was nearly out, and the light and shadow of the lake were pasted on the ceiling, swimming slowly.

Draco stood up as soon as he saw him.

"Were you caught?"

"Almost."

"Almost?"

Draco glared at him.

"Snape went up from here; he looked like he was about to brew the entire corridor into a potion!"

Nott pushed the cold tea toward him.

"Any discoveries?"

Allen took the tea but didn't drink it.

"The Basilisk has started moving, but there's no attack for the moment."

"The diary is absorbing Ginny's life force, and the speed is faster than expected."

Draco's face turned pale.

He was a Malfoy, after all; he understood many things as soon as he heard them.

"If my father really shoved that book to Weasley, does he know what's inside?"

"Perhaps he knows the danger, but not necessarily the price."

Draco sat back down, his fingers gripping the armrest.

He wanted to defend Lucius, but swallowed the words.

Nott asked.

"Next step?"

"Let Hermione continue investigating, let Harry continue listening, keep an eye on Ginny, and don't get close to the Basilisk."

Allen put down the cold tea.

"The Basilisk's eyes are the killing point. Starting today, everyone carries reflective objects on them."

Draco was stunned.

"Mirrors?"

"Lenses, silver spoons, polished badges, anything works. Don't explain the purpose."

Nott immediately wrote it down.

"Reason?"

Allen looked at him.

"Gilderoy Lockhart admirers studying their appearance."

Draco's expression twisted.

"You want me to carry a mirror and pretend to study Gilderoy Lockhart?"

Zabini came down from the stairs and lazily interjected.

"Malfoy, it's reasonable for you to sacrifice a bit of face for the family."

Draco said angrily.

"Why aren't you asleep either?"

"I was woken up by your sense of crisis."

Zabini picked up a silver spoon and shined it against the firelight.

"However, staying alive is more important than taste."

The water pipe outside the wall rang again.

Several people fell silent at the same time.

Allen looked toward the end of the gloomy corridor.

The Basilisk had returned to the depths.

But Ginny had already started opening the door for it.