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HRHL# Chapter 143: Sit Down and Listen to Your Senior’s Heartfelt Words {3}
🕑 Added 2025-04-05 23:12:02 +0000 UTC"Why would you say that?" Harry asked, puzzled.
Professor Dumbledore replied, "You've seen that memory, so you should know that Tom couldn’t wait to pin Myrtle’s death on Hagrid. Back then, Professor McGonagall and I had our suspicions, but now it seems he had more than enough motive—"
"And you also know," he continued, "if his mother was from the Gaunt family, then he might have inherited Parseltongue, the very mark of Slytherin blood—a natural-born Parselmouth."
"So you’re saying that fifty years ago, the one who controlled the Basilisk and killed Myrtle in the school was Tom?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
He’d already decided he wouldn’t call Voldemort "Voldemort" anymore—just Tom.
After all, "Voldemort" didn’t have the same ring to it as "Tom," did it?
But the Gaunt family?
It hit Harry in an instant. Gaunt…
No wonder the name Marvolo sounded so familiar!
Ominis Gaunt’s brother—wasn’t his name Marvolo Gaunt?
If that was the case, then Tom Marvolo Riddle’s mother had to be a Gaunt, no doubt about it—and she must have been closely tied to Marvolo Gaunt.
Following the tradition of middle names, this Marvolo was either her husband or her father.
But since her husband’s name clearly came first, this middle name had to come from this Gaunt woman’s father!
Harry let out a small huff. So… Voldemort was Ominis’s great-nephew?
"Based on our current analysis, it’s almost certainly Tom," Professor Dumbledore said, a sharp glint flashing through his eyes.
"I understand, Professor," Harry nodded. "In that case, I won’t disturb your rest any longer. I’ll remember to ask Professor Binns about it in class the day after tomorrow."
"Hmm, do be careful," Professor Dumbledore said. "But given that there’s a Basilisk loose in Hogwarts, I think for your safety, I’ll escort you back to your dormitory in a moment."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said politely as he stood, not refusing Dumbledore’s kindness.
The two left the Headmaster’s office together, and Professor Dumbledore slipped a handful of Fizzing Whizzbees into Harry’s pocket.
"Don’t worry, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said with a cheerful chuckle. "I’m a major shareholder in Honeydukes now—these sweets are well within my means!"
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said sincerely. Fizzing Whizzbees weren’t cheap, after all, and they’d make a nice treat to share with his dorm mates.
Escorted back to the Gryffindor common room by Dumbledore, Harry was already planning his next steps.
Ask Professor Binns about the Basilisk—yes… and then there was the practical training with the Duel Club.
Since the Basilisk only roamed within Hogwarts castle, Harry decided this time they’d hold the Duel Club’s practice session near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
"Harry?"
Hearing Harry come in, Neville rolled over and mumbled.
"It’s me."
Harry stepped inside and emptied his pockets, placing all the Fizzing Whizzbees on the table.
"What’s that sound?" Ron asked groggily.
"Fizzing Whizzbees—from Professor Dumbledore," Harry said truthfully. "I just came from his office."
"Cool," Seamus whistled. "You’re one of the few who’d dare sneak into Dumbledore’s office for sweets. I bet even those Weasley twins wouldn’t have the guts."
"Hey!" Ron protested. "Those are my brothers you’re talking about!"
"Oh, sorry, Ron," Seamus said. "But I’ve got to point out—you’re the one who told me that nickname."
"Haha…" Ron flopped around on his bed like a fish out of water. "But seriously, did you really go to steal sweets? What if the Headmaster caught you?"
"I just chatted with him about my mum, and he gave me some," Harry said, half-truthfully.
"Oh, sorry, Harry," Ron apologized. "I didn’t know you talked about… uh…"
"It’s fine. I’m not that fragile," Harry said with a wry laugh. "Anyway, we should get some sleep—it’s past ten, and we’ve got classes tomorrow."
"Fair enough," Ron yawned, rolling over and falling asleep almost instantly.
The next morning, Professor Dumbledore appeared in the Great Hall.
Once all the students had gathered, he began announcing new temporary rules.
Students were no longer allowed to travel alone within the school. On the way to and from classes, they had to move as a dormitory unit—to the classroom or the Great Hall together.
As for after meals in the Great Hall, prefects would lead them back to their dormitories in an orderly line.
"What’s going on?" Draco grumbled indignantly. "Dumbledore’s really lost it this time. If my father hears about this, he’ll team up with the Board of Governors to have him sacked!"
Of course, he was just venting—actually telling his father wouldn’t do much good.
"Don’t be like that, Draco," Pansy said, though her expression was shadowed. "Just watch—he won’t stay Headmaster for long. He won’t—"
"You’re right, Pansy!" Draco huffed. "Senile, bumbling Dumbledore…"
"He’s such a nuisance, isn’t he?" Ron muttered, joining the others in their complaints.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, come off it, Ron. At least he’s not bothering you. Don’t go dumping this mess… er, drawing his attention to yourself."
And so, the temporary rules were set. Students had to stick together in groups of three or five—whether heading to class, leaving class, or going to the Great Hall, they were always with others.
"We’re like rabbits," the Weasley twins griped. "Huddled together like rabbits, waiting for that petrifying monster to take us all out in one go."
"Look on the bright side, George, Fred," Ron said. "At least you’ve got company—unlike Colin, who’s only got his camera."
"I think Colin’s fine with just his camera," Fred replied. "Look at that kid—he’s glued to it. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was his girlfriend."
Everyone laughed at Fred’s remark.
Though Colin had only been bouncing around for a week, that week had left quite an impression.
He didn’t just pester Harry—he snapped photos of every single classmate, claiming it was to show his dad.
The next afternoon, during History of Magic, Harry yawned a few times, instinctively drifting toward sleep.
But then he remembered the Basilisk and raised his hand.
"Mr. Potter? Do you have a question?"
Professor Binns looked up, seemingly surprised that Harry was asking something.
"Professor Binns, I’d like to ask you about something—I read some legends somewhere…"
Before Harry could finish, Professor Binns cut him off.
"If you know it’s a legend, you shouldn’t be asking about it. This is a serious history class, Mr. Potter."
Professor Binns clearly had little patience for "legends." He scrutinized Harry, then suddenly frowned.
"Wait a moment—why do I feel like you look familiar?"
"Because I’m your student, Professor," Harry said, exasperated. I’ve been in your class for nearly seven years.
Professor Binns gave a humph.
"I saw a letter—a handwritten letter from Salazar Slytherin," Harry began.
At that, Professor Binns fell silent.
"What letter? Tell me about it," he said.
Harry recounted the letter’s contents from start to finish.
Professor Binns remained quiet—so quiet that everyone thought he’d stay that way—until he suddenly spoke.
"That’s not a legend, Mr. Potter," Professor Binns said. "I’ve seen that letter myself. It’s indeed in Slytherin’s handwriting."
The class erupted in a wave of astonishment.
Salazar Slytherin’s handwritten letter?!
Ron’s eyes practically turned red with envy as he tugged at Harry’s sleeve. "Something that cool, and you didn’t bring me along… Harry!"
"I thought it was fake," Harry muttered to Ron.
"Oh," Ron said, accepting the explanation.
"But there’s also a legend circulating in the school, just as the letter describes," Professor Binns continued. "Salazar Slytherin had a falling out with the other three Founders. It’s said he built a secret chamber in the school, housing his fearsome creature. Personally, I think it’s nonsense."
He went on, animatedly sharing some of his own experiences and details about Salazar Slytherin himself, captivating the entire class.
The students were stunned—stunned that they were actually paying rapt attention to History of Magic for once.
"But the legend isn’t entirely baseless, especially with that letter as evidence," Professor Binns added. "According to the tale, Slytherin sealed the Chamber, ensuring no one could open it until his true heir arrived at the school. Only that heir could unlock the Chamber, release the horror within, and let it purify the school by ridding it of all those unworthy of studying magic."
"Professor—" Hermione raised her hand hesitantly. "Who did Slytherin consider unworthy of studying magic?"
"Good question, Miss Granter. You can lower your hand now," Professor Binns said, perpetually mangling Hermione’s surname.
Hermione lowered her hand, puzzled, then realized what he meant…
Oh. So I’m one of those Slytherin deemed unworthy?
She felt a surge of anger, a cold chill creeping up her spine.
"But I must tell you, that thing doesn’t exist," Professor Binns said again, his tone growing impatient. "No Chamber, no monster. Think about it—a thousand years have passed. If there were a Chamber, it would’ve been found by generations of Headmasters by now."
"The legend has lingered at Hogwarts since the Four Founders passed, and countless Headmasters have tried to locate this so-called Chamber. Some even brought in powerful wizards to search, but they found nothing."
"But, Professor," Seamus interjected, "you can’t just dismiss the Chamber’s existence because past Headmasters couldn’t find it!"
"And?" Professor Binns shot back, showing none of his usual dull lethargy. "So because we can’t find this monster in Hogwarts, it’s going to leap out tomorrow and Petrify me? Ridiculous!"
"So that numb act you put on during lectures was all fake?" Harry asked suddenly.
Professor Binns faltered—quite a feat for a ghost to be caught off guard.
"If you could teach with this kind of passion all the time, I think the students would love History of Magic—and you," Harry said earnestly, so convincingly he almost believed himself. "If I’m not mistaken, Hogwarts: A History records that ‘near lunchtime, students reluctantly left Professor Binns’s classroom, each one brimming with excitement. Transfiguration introduced them to the wonders of magic, but Professor Binns’s History of Magic filled the children with boundless dreams of the magical world.’"
"If I hadn’t just seen your fervor firsthand, I might’ve thought that book was embellishing your reputation," Harry added as a final touch.
Professor Binns took a deep breath.
He lowered his head and resumed the lesson.
Within five minutes, the class was once again sinking into a drowsy haze.
Harry considered it, then gave up on trying to persuade Professor Binns further.
Having one class where he could nap wasn’t such a bad deal, he decided.
With that thought, his eyelids fluttered shut, and lulled by Professor Binns’s hypnotic drone, he drifted happily into sleep.
