The Tenth Weasley - CH - 77

The Chamber of Secrets was a place few had ever seen and fewer still had lived to talk about. When Harry had first come down here, it had been in desperation. He had come to fight, to survive, to protect. There had been no time to appreciate what this place truly was.

Now, with no immediate danger lurking, Harry finally looked around—and for the first time, he truly saw the Chamber of Salazar Slytherin.

“It’s… beautiful,” he murmured.

The vast, echoing hall stretched far in every direction, with the massive stone pillars rising like watchful sentinels toward the arched ceiling high above. The stone was green-tinged with age, laced with silver veins of ancient magic that glimmered faintly when he moved. Soft, rippling water ran through a channel carved along the length of the hall, forming a graceful fountain near the far wall that shimmered with soft blue light.

The fountain flowed with such purity it seemed untouched by time. The air was surprisingly fresh, enchanted perhaps, and hummed with silent energy.

And then there was the head.

The enormous stone face of Salazar Slytherin loomed in the shadows at the back of the chamber, carved with such detail it looked almost alive. Eyes narrow and knowing. Lips stern, almost whispering secrets that no one could hear. It was from that mouth the Basilisk had emerged when Harry had fought it—where he had nearly died.

Now, it simply watched him in silence.

“I can’t believe I missed all this the first time,” Harry muttered to himself. “Too busy staying alive.”

A clattering noise behind him drew his attention. Charlie had already begun setting up his tools, his satchel open beside the Basilisk’s lifeless body. He worked with practiced ease, laying out enchanted knives, iron-bound storage jars, reinforced gloves, and thick padded scrolls to wrap magical parts.

Charlie didn’t even look up as he began humming a tune under his breath.

“Oi, Charlie,” Harry called out as he approached. “You’re not going to admire the place a little first?”

Charlie laughed without looking up. “I admire it by doing what I came here for. This carcass isn’t going to harvest itself. Besides,” he said, flashing Harry a grin, “we dragon handlers get used to working in weird, dangerous, and beautiful places.”

Harry stepped closer, watching as Charlie reached for a reinforced crystal vial etched with silver runes.

“This,” Charlie said, “is for the venom. Basilisk venom is incredibly corrosive. One drop of this stuff can melt through steel, and it never loses its potency, even over centuries. Some say it’s got temporal magic woven into it.”

He carefully inserted a silver-tipped needle into the thick, dark gland beneath the Basilisk’s shattered fangs. A slow, oily stream of emerald green liquid began to drip into the vial.

Harry watched with fascination.

“I didn’t think venom would be the first thing to take,” he said.

Charlie nodded. “It has to be. Once the body starts breaking down, the venom becomes volatile. Could explode, even.”

As the first vial filled, he sealed it with a whisper and passed it to Harry. “Here. Hold this carefully. That jar alone is worth enough to buy your own castle.”

“Tempting,” Harry said, holding it gently. “I’d prefer a library, though.”

Charlie chuckled, then continued his work.

“Next, we’ll want the fangs. Not just because they’re deadly, but they can be used for potion stirring, curse-breaking, and even wand cores in rare cases. But only if extracted with the nerves intact.”

He worked swiftly, slicing with enchanted scalpels and whispering stabilizing charms. Two massive fangs, each the length of a sword, were soon removed and wrapped in dragonhide cloth.

Harry felt like he was watching a master class in magical biology.

“I’m guessing the hide is the real prize?” he asked.

Charlie grinned. “Oh yes. Basilisk hide is tougher than dragon hide, resistant to most forms of magic, even Unforgivables in some places. If treated properly, you could make armor out of this that even goblins would drool over.”

“Think I could make a pair of shoes with it?” Harry joked.

“Shoes, gloves, armor, spell-proof cloak… Basilisk chic,” Charlie replied with a wink. “Just don’t wear it in polite company. The smell takes months to enchant away.”

As the process continued, Charlie moved to extract the Basilisk’s optical nerves and the remnants of the eyeballs.

“Why those?” Harry asked.

“Because,” Charlie said, “some ancient wandmakers—very dark ones—have used Basilisk optical nerve and heartstrings in wands. Very rare. The wands are said to be able to see through powerful wards. Or at least sense them.”

Harry's brow lifted. “That sounds… dangerous.”

“And expensive,” Charlie replied. “Which is why they’re almost extinct. But a few nerves like these might fetch more than the venom.”

Harry’s eyes wandered as Charlie worked. He noticed Bill was at the far end of the chamber, wand in hand, muttering detection charms under his breath and scanning the walls with tireless energy.

“Any luck?” Harry called.

“None yet,” Bill replied, brushing his fingers along the carvings of a pillar. “But I know there’s something here. This place was built by Salazar Slytherin. He wouldn’t just make a home for a monster and call it a day.”

“Just don’t break anything,” Charlie shouted. “I’d like to leave here with all my fingers, thanks.”

Bill smirked. “Come on, would I ever—Whoa!”

There was a faint click and a grinding of stone. All three of them froze.

Bill stepped back slowly as a section of wall shifted slightly behind him. The outline of a hidden doorway became visible.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You were saying?”

Charlie shook his head, grinning. “He’s going to get us all cursed, I swear.”

“Worth it,” Bill said, eyes gleaming as he turned to Harry. “Ready to see what Slytherin really left behind?”

Harry looked between his two brothers—Charlie stained with venom and ichor, Bill practically dancing with excitement—and smiled.

“Yes,” he said. “Let’s find out.”


Bill stood back as the stone wall finished sliding open, revealing not a treasure vault nor a forgotten armory—but a dark passageway just wide enough for a grown man to walk through with his shoulders slightly hunched.

“It’s a tunnel,” he said, blinking into the dark.

Charlie leaned in beside him. “Not exactly the secret hoard I was hoping for.”

“Still might be something interesting down there,” Harry said as he stepped forward. He raised his wand. “Lumos.”

The tip lit up, casting a soft glow. Bill and Charlie followed suit, and the three brothers moved into the passage, their footsteps echoing lightly off the stone floor. The tunnel was narrow but manageable, cut cleanly through the rock, the walls damp and occasionally slick with moisture.

They walked in silence for a long time, the only sound their own footsteps and the steady humming of the magic-infused torches they carried. It was a long tunnel, winding through the depths of Hogwarts like a buried artery.

Finally, the passage ended in a sloping incline, and they emerged into a clearing beneath the grey sky.

All around them, thick, tangled trees loomed.

They had exited into the Forbidden Forest.

Charlie looked around, amazed. “This is outside the castle… We’re not even on school grounds anymore.”

Harry nodded slowly, then turned to face the dark mouth of the tunnel. “This must be how the Basilisk hunted. It makes sense—something that size would need to feed, and it couldn’t rely on the school alone.”

Bill let out a low whistle. “And no one ever noticed a bloody great serpent sliding in and out of Hogwarts. Impressive.”

They didn’t linger. With nightfall approaching, they made their way back through the passage to the Chamber of Secrets.

Back in the echoing hall, Harry stood before the massive stone face of Salazar Slytherin again. This time, he looked at it with intent, remembering how the Basilisk had first appeared.

“The monster didn’t just show up here,” he muttered. “It came from somewhere.”

Bill, nearby, paused in his scanning. “That face has got to be more than just decoration.”

Harry stepped forward and said the words aloud, his voice turning into a low, serpentine hiss:
“Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Four.”

With a deep rumble, the stone mouth of Salazar Slytherin slowly opened like a door, grinding apart to reveal an interior passage.

The three shared a look. Then, Harry entered first, wand held high.

Inside was a massive circular space, dimly lit by glowing runes etched into the floor. The walls curved like the inside of a great egg, and along the edges were the coiled remains of old straw and bones—the Basilisk’s nest. This was where it had slept, slithered, and waited for commands.

At the far end, they found a small room with a single stone door. It wasn’t locked.

With a push, the door creaked open to reveal what looked like a study, though time had not been kind to it. Dust lay thick across every surface. Cobwebs hung in layers, veiling shelves and furniture. The scent of rot and damp parchment hung in the air.

Bill let out a low groan. “This place needs a deep cleaning and ten gallons of polish.”

“I’ve got just the thing,” he added, flicking his wand. “Purgo Maxima!”

With a blast of cleansing magic, the filth evaporated into a swirling cloud of dust that rushed out of the room. The cobwebs vanished, and the air cleared. Beneath the grime, shelves and tables filled with aged books, old scrolls, magical ingredients, and strange tools were now visible.

“Now we’re talking,” said Charlie, already peering into a set of drawers filled with what looked like potion components—though most were dried out or crumbled from time.

Bill, meanwhile, examined the books. He pulled one from the shelf and flipped it open, frowning. “What is this gibberish?”

Harry stepped over and took it from him. As his eyes scanned the text, he suddenly began reading aloud.

The words slithered from his tongue with strange, hissing sounds.

Charlie froze. “Harry… You’re speaking Parseltongue.”

Harry blinked. “I was just reading it.”

“You read Parseltongue?” Bill asked, stunned.

“I guess I do now,” Harry said. He looked around at the dozens of tomes. “And it looks like most of these are written in it.”

His fingers traced the faded spine of another book. “This… this is Slytherin’s personal collection. Notes, maybe research. Maybe even spells no one else knows.”

Charlie gave a low whistle. “You hit the jackpot.”

They wasted no time.

The magical trunk was quickly filled with as much as they could carry—books, weaponry, odd artifacts, and anything that wasn’t too far decayed to be useful. Harry, with a keen eye, selected the best-preserved tomes. Bill wrapped up enchanted daggers, snake-emblazoned staves, and scrolls sealed in waterproof wax. Even the faded green robe with a stitched silver serpent was carefully packed away.

When they were done, Bill looked around. “We don’t have much time. Dumbledore will want to inspect everything.”

Harry nodded sharply. “Then we hide what matters.”

They took one of the trunks and, using the same secret tunnel that led to the Forbidden Forest, they made their way out of the castle grounds once more. This time, they found a dry, shadowed grove near the edge of Hagrid’s pumpkin patch—hidden from view but easy to return to.

They buried the trunk in an enchanted cache, sealed it with protection charms and concealment spells that Bill cast expertly, learned from his days working for Gringotts.

Then they returned the same way, emerging once again into the Chamber proper.

Together with the second trunk—the one holding only the Basilisk parts—they climbed through the tunnel back to the second-floor corridor.

As Harry had expected, Dumbledore was waiting.

Beside him stood Professor Snape, arms folded. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick stood behind them, as did Madam Pomfrey. All wore tight expressions.

Dumbledore spoke first. “Welcome back, Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley. Mr. Weasley. I trust your exploration was… enlightening.”

Harry gave a polite nod. “Very.”

Dumbledore eyed the trunk they carried. “May I inspect it? Our agreement was quite clear. The Basilisk corpse was yours—nothing more.”

Harry stepped aside. “Of course.”

He opened the trunk. Inside, carefully sealed, were jars of venom, wrapped fangs, strips of scaly hide, preserved organs. Nothing else.

Snape peered inside, sneering, but found nothing to comment on. Dumbledore gave a curt nod. “Very well. You’ve held your end of the agreement.”

Harry smiled, inwardly. And I’ve kept my secrets.

With nothing else to say, the three of them departed.

Later that evening, once they were far from Hogwarts, Bill and Harry circled back through the forest one last time. The hidden trunk, untouched and protected, was waiting.

Bill waved his wand, and with a flick of his wrist, the trunk levitated silently behind them as they returned home.

The legacy of Salazar Slytherin was no longer buried in the depths of Hogwarts.

It now belonged to Harry Weasley.