Office of the Professor of Alchemy and Muggle Science.
The room was quiet, lined with towering bookshelves. The decor blended magic and modern elements seamlessly, and a warm, bright light illuminated the space.
Three men sat talking casually at the wide oak desk. On one side was a young man with calm eyes, and across from him sat two older men—one with a neatly trimmed beard and half-moon spectacles, the other a quiet man with black hair streaked with grey and eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"You're certain about this?" Dumbledore asked, folding his hands together as he eyed the young professor carefully. "An actual basilisk?"
"I'm not making any claims just yet, Headmaster," Maverick replied with a shrug. "I found some obscure clues while exploring the Room of Hidden Things. It's not definitive, but if it does turn out to be true, we'll deal with it. If not... just think of it as a historical exploration."
Dumbledore looked unconvinced—no, not even in the slightest—but he said nothing. Earlier that day, Maverick had shared how and what he found out about the legendary Chamber of Secrets. Naturally, the first thing the nosy old man wanted to know was how exactly he knew about it.
Naturally, Maverick couldn't tell him the truth. So he pinned everything on the Room of Requirement—particularly the Room of Hidden Things. A few vague references, some odd carvings, and clues from a handful of hidden parchments. That was the story.
Would Dumbledore believe it completely?
Of course not. But Maverick's explanation was reasonable and plausible. After all, the Room of Requirement was a space full of mystery—a place even Dumbledore himself couldn't claim to fully understand.
Fortunately, the old man didn't press further—and even if he had, Maverick wouldn't have given anything more than he already had. Take it or leave it.
"I must admit, I'm looking forward to this," said the man beside Dumbledore, sounding far more eager. "When is the boy coming... the one you said could speak the serpent language?"
That was Newt Scamander, magizoologist and author, who still carried the excitement of a boy discovering a new creature, even in his later years. Of course, by the standards of a Greatmage's lifespan, he couldn't really be called old.
It was Dumbledore's idea to bring him along, and Maverick didn't mind. Even if a basilisk really was down there, neither Maverick nor Dumbledore was afraid—they were both Archmages. And the goal wasn't to outright kill it, only remove it. After all, a basilisk, no matter how dangerous, was a creature of significant magic, not to mention the rarity. And for that reason, Newt was the perfect choice for the job.
They talked a while longer, voices low but filled with anticipation, until a soft knock echoed through the room.
"Come in," Maverick called, waving his hand lazily.
The door creaked open. Harry stepped inside, stopping short at the sight of Dumbledore and the unfamiliar man beside him.
"Uh, Professor... should I come back later?" he asked, eyes flicking uncertainly to Maverick.
"No, come in," Maverick said, gesturing him forward.
"Harry, my boy!" Dumbledore greeted warmly. "I trust your holiday has been enjoyable?"
"Er, good," Harry said, still eyeing Newt with curiosity just as Maverick conjured a chair for him.
"Take a seat."
Harry sat down, fidgeting uncomfortably under the weight of three very different, yet equally powerful gazes.
"Fascinating," Newt murmured, eyes gleaming as he looked at Harry. "A Parselmouth in person. I've only met two in my life, and both are from the other side of the world."
Harry shrank back slightly, unsure what to make of this wierd man's wide-eyed enthusiasm.
"Ah, right," Dumbledore said. "Harry, this is Mr. Newt Scamander. A brilliant healer, and the most accomplished magizoologist in the world."
"Oh, I don't know about all that," Newt chuckled, waving off the praise
Harry stared for a second longer. The name was familiar. He had seen it somewhere... on a book cover, maybe? Right. Fantastic Beasts and... what was it again? He couldn't quite remember, but he now understood that the man was a pretty famous wizard. Unlike before, he wasn't completely clueless about famous witches and wizards anymore.
"Right then," Maverick said, rising from his seat. "Let's get started."
As Maverick walked around the desk, Dumbledore and Newt also rose to their feet, while Harry glanced between them, still unsure of what was going on.
"Um, Professor... why am I here exactly?" he asked.
Maverick smiled and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You'll see soon. Let's just say we're going on a hunt for a very special magical creature—and your unique gift is going to help us."
"My… gift?"
"You speak Parseltongue, remember?" Maverick said. "We need someone who can talk to snakes. And like Mr. Scamander just pointed out, it's not a common skill. Very, very rare, in fact. Which is why you're tagging along with us. You up for it?"
Harry hesitated, but the Gryffindor in him started nodding almost immediately. He still felt nervous—and yet, there was a flicker of excitement too. He just wished Ron and Hermione were with him.
Casting a Disillusionment Charm over all four of them, Maverick led the way out of his office. Harry stayed close, walking beside him, while Dumbledore and Newt trailed behind, chatting softly as they moved through the empty corridors.
They walked quietly, passing hallways and staircases, until they stopped in front of a door on the second floor.
"Girls' bathroom?" Harry asked, baffled as they stepped inside.
It was gloomy and run-down. Cracks lined the mirrors, the tiles were chipped, and a faint smell of mildew hung in the air.
"This bathroom is, shall we say, unofficially closed," Dumbledore explained with a twinkle in his eye. "A student passed away here, long ago. Poor girl still haunts the place, which rather discouraged others from using it. The school just quietly agreed to pretend it's out of service."
"Oh… I think I've heard about her, Headmaster." Harry muttered. "Moaning Myrtle, right?"
"Exactly," Dumbledore nodded.
Maverick walked ahead, stopping in front of a specific sink. Its tap had a small engraving, a serpent's head.
He crouched slightly, examining it. This wasn't, of course, his first visit here. At the beginning of the first term this academic year, he had come once before to see if the entrance was really here—just like in the original story.
There was definitely something here. The serpent carved into the tap resembled the scene described in the books, and he could sense some very complex runes behind it. He could have yanked it open by force, of course, but had ultimately decided against it.
"Harry," he called. "Over here."
Harry hurried over, while Dumbledore and Newt watched everything closely.
"Try speaking to it," Maverick instructed. "In Parseltongue, of course. Tell it to open."
Harry nodded, focused on the tap, and said, "Open up."
Maverick sighed. "That was English, Harry."
"Right," Harry muttered, shook his head to focus again, and stared at the snake carving. This time, his intention was clear in his words.
"Hisss... Open."
The sound left his lips before he realized it wasn't English, and as the last syllable echoed, the tap shimmered faintly with light, and then—
Click.
Clunk—clunk!
With a groan of stone and metal, the sink began to spin. It sank out of sight, revealing a massive pipe wide enough for a grown man to slide through.
Harry stumbled back and almost fell seeing the sudden change.
The pipe stretched into darkness, and cold air rose from its depths, brushing against his skin.
"Incredible," Newt whispered from behind.
"Who would've thought it was actually here?" Dumbledore said, marveling at the scene.
"Well done, Potter," Maverick said. "I'd give you house points, but unfortunately, this is off the record."
Harry laughed nervously. "No worries, Professor. This whole experience is more than enough of a reward already."
Dumbledore and Newt chuckled at that.
"Alright," Maverick said, stroking his chin thoughtfully for a moment. "I'll go first. Then Harry. Headmaster, Newt—you two follow after."
"Wait—how exactly are we going down there?" Harry asked, eyeing the hole warily.
"We jump, of course," Maverick said with a grin, casting a Cushioning Charm and a light Hovering Spell. Before Harry could protest, the magic swept him forward and—
"Aaaaah!" he yelled.
They dropped like marbles in a twisting, turning chute. Slippery, dark, and fast. Pipes rushed past on all sides, but they kept to the main one, sloping steeply downward.
Harry opened his eyes eventually, realizing he wasn't exactly in contact with the pipe's wall—thanks to whatever magic the professor had used on him. Ahead, he caught glimpses of the man in question gliding smoothly, as if down a polished slide. And behind him, he heard the occasional grunt and bump from the Headmaster and Scamander.
But at this speed, how was he going to land?
Just when he thought he was going to crash—
Whoosh!
His speed slowed by an invisible force, and he landed softly on what seemed like a damp stone floor in a wide tunnel.
"That... was incredible," he couldn't help but mutter showing a stupid grin.
Moments later, the Headmaster Dumbledore and Newt Scamander also landed behind him.
"Stay close." Maverick gestured to Harry while looking around to take in their surroundings.
A long, dark tunnel stretched ahead, its stone walls lined everywhere with serpentine carvings.
"We must be miles under the school," Newt murmured, his voice echoing faintly.
"Under the lake, perhaps," murmured Dumbledore, squinting at the dark, slimy walls surrounding them.
All four of them turned to stare into the yawning darkness ahead.
Snap.
Maverick conjured a floating orb of light that lit the tunnel ahead, bright enough to see a good distance.
"Let's go," he said, beckoning the others forward with a flick of his hand.
Their footsteps slapped against the damp stone floor as they moved, the sound echoing around them. The chill in the air deepened, and the thick smell of mildew clung to the back of their throats.
Maverick, Newt, and Dumbledore spread their magical senses wide, scanning for any signs of life. They picked up nothing, except some rats, but not the faintest flicker of anything resembling the beast they were here to find.
However, they all realized one thing from the probe: their range of magical sense seemed to have been greatly limited here. Something—wards, perhaps—in the tunnel was blocking them. There were places ahead where their magic couldn't pass, patches of silence in the flow of magical detection.
They slowed their pace, arranging themselves in a formation: Maverick in front, Harry just behind him, flanked at the rear by Dumbledore and Newt—three powerful wizards forming a protective triangle around the boy.
The tunnel was dead silent, save for the slow drip of water echoing in the distance. Then—
Crunch.
Harry froze mid-step and looked down. Beneath his shoe was a skull—small, jagged, and unmistakably rodent-like. He realized with a jolt that it wasn't the only one.
Bones.
Dozens, maybe hundreds of tiny bones littered the floor like brittle leaves.
He swallowed hard but didn't stop walking, forcing his legs to move. He kept his eyes forward, focused on his professor's steady figure ahead.
The professor's here, Harry reminded himself. And so is Headmaster Dumbledore. I'll be fine.
"Interesting," Maverick's voice echoed ahead, low and thoughtful.
His pace quickened.
Newt and Dumbledore felt it too. Their steps matched his as they moved forward and halted together some distance down the tunnel.
Harry jogged, matching their pace, until he saw it with his own eyes—and they widened in shock.
A massive, curved shape lay across the width of the tunnel. It wasn't moving. For a moment, Harry hoped it was a trick of the light—just a strange rock formation.
But as the orb of light floated closer, the truth became clear.
A massive shedded snakeskin, vivid green and eerily intact, stretched across the passageway in a lazy coil. It glistened faintly in the light, every scale perfectly preserved.
Harry's breath caught. It had to be thirty feet long, at least.
"Incredible," Dumbledore murmured, stroking his beard, eyes glittering.
Newt was already kneeling beside it, brushing it with his fingertips and even leaning close to sniff at the surface.
"This is a basilisk skin," he said, eyes gleaming. "Vivid color, intact structure... it hasn't decayed at all."
"How old do you think it is?" Maverick asked, frowning.
Newt's tone switched to full investigative mode. "Decades—easily. Basilisk skin is incredibly durable. It can last centuries even without preservation. But this piece…" he ran his hands over it again, reverent. "It's completely, 100% intact."
He looked up at Maverick, eyes glowing, and said plainly, "Sell it to me!"
Maverick blinked. "What?"
Cough, cough, cough.
Dumbledore suddenly began coughing violently, a hand over his mouth. The others immediately turned toward him.
"Ahem," Dumbledore said, straightening his robes. "Newt... technically, the creature belongs to the school, doesn't it?" He glanced at Maverick at the end and smiled.
Maverick's brow twitched slightly. He wasn't short on money, but... this was a perfect piece. Rare, valuable, and beautiful.
He sighed. "Let's call it a favor for Old Newt."
He waved a hand. "Headmaster, you decide. But if we find another one... it's mine."
Dumbledore smiled. "Agreed."
Newt didn't waste a second. With practiced hands, he began shrinking and carefully folding the skin into his enchanted suitcase, muttering excitedly under his breath.
Once that was done, they moved on.
The tunnel twisted and turned, leading them deeper underground. Harry stayed in position between the adults, trying not to let the earlier discovery shake him. After all, if the skin was here... then the creature that shed it had to be nearby.
But still, the professors didn't seem even slightly worried.
Harry's nerves buzzed unpleasantly, but after a while, the steady presence of the adults calmed him again. If something happened, he wouldn't be alone.
Then, as they rounded yet another bend, they saw it.
A solid stone wall blocked the path, carved with two enormous entwined serpents. Their emerald eyes glinted ominously in the orb's light.
Maverick stepped forward, inspecting it closely. After a moment, he turned back toward Harry and gave him a small nod.
Harry got the message.
"Right," he muttered, stepping up to the wall.
He took a breath and hissed the word, "Open." This time, he succeeded on the first try.
The sound echoed unnaturally in the tunnel—a sibilant hiss that made the air feel colder.
The serpents' stone eyes flickered. Then the wall began to crack, splitting down the middle. The two halves slid open silently, vanishing into the rock.
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