Interrogation
The hospital wing was quiet save for the soft rustle of sheets and the steady breathing of Ginny Weasley. Molly sat beside her daughter, holding her hand tightly as though afraid she might vanish again. Poppy Pomfrey flitted around, checking vitals and applying gentle healing charms, her practiced hands efficient and steady.
“She’s exhausted,” Poppy murmured, her tone soft but clinical. “Likely the effects of prolonged magical exposure. But she’ll recover.”
Molly exhaled shakily, her grip on Ginny’s hand tightening. “Thank Merlin… I thought—” Her voice cracked, and she broke into quiet sobs.
Poppy placed a reassuring hand on Molly’s shoulder. “She’s alive, Molly. She’ll need rest, but she’s a strong girl.”
The two women stayed by Ginny’s side, oblivious to the tension that was building elsewhere in the castle.
Meanwhile, in the headmaster’s office, Harry sat in a high-backed chair. His expression was unreadable, detached as always, as he faced the gathered professors. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his blue eyes sharp and searching. Professor McGonagall stood to his right, her lips pressed into a thin line. Snape leaned against a far wall, his arms crossed, his dark eyes glinting with suspicion. Professor Flitwick perched on a stool nearby, looking uncharacteristically serious. Hagrid stood in the corner, his usual warmth replaced by quiet worry.
The silence was thick.
“Harry,” Dumbledore began gently, his voice calm but probing. “We need to understand what happened in the Chamber of Secrets.”
Harry’s gaze met Dumbledore’s, steady and unflinching. “I already told you. The monster is gone. Ginny is safe.”
“You expect us to accept that explanation without question?” Snape drawled, his voice laced with sarcasm. “You, an eleven-year-old boy, simply walked into the Chamber and dealt with a creature that has haunted this school for centuries?”
Harry tilted his head slightly, his expression almost bored. “Yes.”
McGonagall’s nostrils flared. “Mr. Potter, this is not a game! A student’s life was at stake. The entire school has been in a state of panic. You must provide more details.”
Harry leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed but unyielding. “I found the entrance. Went down. Found Ginny. Stopped the monster. That’s all.”
Dumbledore steepled his fingers, his gaze never wavering. “And the monster itself? What did you face, Harry?”
Harry paused for a moment, as though considering how much to say. “A basilisk.”
Gasps filled the room. Even Snape’s eyes widened fractionally.
“A basilisk?” Flitwick squeaked. “The King of Serpents?”
“How did yeh even survive it?” Hagrid blurted, his large hands gripping his coat nervously.
Harry’s gaze flickered to Hagrid, then back to Dumbledore. “I told it to stop.”
The room fell silent again, the professors exchanging incredulous looks.
“Told it to stop?” McGonagall repeated, her voice edged with disbelief. “And it… obeyed?”
Harry nodded, his expression giving nothing away. “It’s not that complicated.”
Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Harry… are you a Parselmouth?”
There it was—the question he had been waiting for. Harry hesitated, the silence in the room pressing down on him. Finally, he gave a small nod.
McGonagall looked as though she might faint. Flitwick muttered something under his breath. Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“A Parselmouth…” Dumbledore said softly, his tone thoughtful. “That is a rare gift, Harry. One that has historically been associated with dark wizards.”
“I didn’t ask for it,” Harry replied bluntly. “But it helped, didn’t it? Ginny is alive.”
Snape’s voice was a low hiss. “Convenient, isn’t it? The boy who speaks to snakes just happens to be the one to find the Chamber and defeat the monster. I wonder how much more he’s hiding.”
Harry’s gaze shifted to Snape, his expression colder than before. “I’m not hiding anything.”
Dumbledore raised a hand, silencing Snape before the argument could escalate. “Harry, there is no accusation here. Only concern. You performed an extraordinary feat, one that most grown wizards would struggle to achieve. But we must understand the full story if we are to protect this school.”
Harry’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I did what I had to do. That’s all.”
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, studying the boy before him. There was something deeply unsettling about Harry’s calm detachment, his ability to face danger without so much as a flicker of fear.
“Very well,” Dumbledore said finally. “For now, we will accept your account. But, Harry, if there is anything more you wish to share—anything at all—my door is always open.”
Harry didn’t respond. He simply stood, nodded curtly, and walked out of the room, leaving the professors in uneasy silence.
“Albus,” McGonagall began after a long pause, “there’s something wrong with that boy.”
Dumbledore sighed, his expression weary. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he is simply a child who has seen too much.”
Snape scoffed. “That boy is no ordinary child. Mark my words, Albus—there is more to him than meets the eye.”
“Whatever the case,” Dumbledore said softly, “we must keep watch. Harry Potter is an enigma, one we cannot afford to ignore.”