Facing Dumbledore's probing gaze, Harry quickly spoke up:
"Ron was taken away by Filch before the banquet started."
"Locate him immediately."
Dumbledore turned to William, as if asking for directions using a navigation app.
William pulled out a detailed Marauder's Map from his ring.
Lockhart leaned in, trying to peek at it, but William subtly shifted, blocking his view.
The map was filled with countless names of students and hidden passageways, far more intricate than any version sold at the school. No way was he letting Lockhart see it.
"He's still in Filch's office," William said after a glance. "All alone."
"Professor McGonagall, could you please bring Mr. Weasley here? I need to ask him a few questions."
Professor McGonagall nodded and left the hospital wing.
"Madam Pomfrey, could you prepare some restorative potions? I believe Mr. Filch will wake up soon, and he'll need some strength back," Dumbledore continued.
Madam Pomfrey turned and walked toward the storage room.
"Harry, you haven't had dinner yet, have you?" Dumbledore asked with concern. "How about a fruit tart?"
Harry wanted to say he had no appetite, but his stomach growled loudly.
With a flick of Dumbledore's wand, a fruit tart and a warm glass of milk appeared on a nearby table.
Well… maybe he was a bit hungry. Reluctantly, Harry decided he might as well eat something.
Harry was waiting for Filch to wake up and clear his name so he could prove Lockhart and Snape wrong.
There had been no attack, none at all. They couldn't blame an innocent person!
Harry had never been so eager to hear Filch speak.
Snape approached Filch's bedside.
William stepped forward as well. "Headmaster, if you don't mind…"
"Of course." Dumbledore stepped aside slightly.
Snape let out a small huff but made room for William.
William didn't check Filch's injuries again—he'd already done that when they first found him.
Instead, he collected the congealed blood from Filch's body into a vial, intending to study it later.
The wound on Filch's chest had been fatal, but the bleeding had miraculously stopped... aided by some unknown substance.
Most peculiar of all, the blood clots had turned to stone... This characteristic was extremely rare.
As a Potions Master, William needed to analyze what kind of substance could cause such an effect.
Snape, clearly having the same thought, was working even faster.
When it came to recluses, whether they were introverted scholars or obsessed inventors, they were always terrifyingly dedicated.
In the distance, footsteps echoed.
Professor McGonagall returned with Ron in tow. He was covered in mud and reeked of the Black Lake's muck.
"What's going on, Headmaster?" Ron asked nervously, looking confused.
"Ron, what happened to you?" Dumbledore's gaze was gentle but attentive.
"I fell into the Black Lake."
"Why did you fall in?"
"Last year, William and the others caught a mermaid. I wanted to catch one too... as a Halloween gift for Harry," Ron explained quickly.
Hearing this, Harry felt a surge of warmth spread through him. The sentiment made his heart almost leap out of his chest...
Ron really was his best friend!
Harry suddenly felt that the pure milk in his mouth didn't taste as pure anymore.
He bit into the fruit tart and let out a small sigh.
He didn't know why, but it had been so long since he and Ron had whispered secrets in bed at night. Harry thought tonight might be the perfect chance to do so.
Ron, oblivious to Harry's thoughts of their friendship, continued, "I stepped on some mud, slipped, and fell into the Black Lake.
"When I got back to the castle, Filch caught me.
"He said I dirtied the floor and dragged me to his office, so I went with him."
"And then? Why did Mr. Filch leave his office?" Dumbledore asked.
"There was a horrible smell outside. He said it was Peeves playing a prank, so he grabbed his broom and rushed out, telling me to stay put... Wait, what happened to Mr. Filch?"
"He was attacked," Dumbledore said.
"Attacked by who?" Ron's face turned pale.
No one answered.
Snape's expression was malicious as he sneered at Ron. "You stayed in Filch's office for so long, when he didn't return, you didn't leave?"
"I fell asleep!" Ron snapped, frustrated.
Professor McGonagall spoke sternly, "When I arrived, Mr. Weasley was indeed asleep at the desk."
"You don't suspect me, do you?" Ron shouted angrily. "Why would I attack Filch? Just because I was in his office when something happened?!"
A coughing sound came from the hospital bed.
Filch had finally woken up.
Madam Pomfrey hurriedly poured a potion down his throat.
Filch drank it stiffly, almost like a puppet.
"Filch, who attacked you?" Lockhart asked eagerly as he leaned in.
Filch's face was blank as if struggling to form the words.
"Who was it, Argus?" Dumbledore asked again.
Filch's upper body rose mechanically, his head turning like a marionette.
His gaze brushed past Ron, lingering only briefly before snapping toward… Harry!
Filch's lips twitched, and his voice came out strained, as though dragged from his throat:
"Harry Potter!"
His low, gravelly voice echoed through the room, flickering in the candlelight.
The room fell silent.
Harry was so stunned that he spat out his milk.
Caught red-handed and named by the victim… for a moment, even Harry almost believed it.
Am I… Schizophrenic? Did my other self do it?!
If William knew what Harry was thinking, he probably would have scoffed.
Kid, blaming mental illness when things go wrong won't get you anywhere in the wizarding world.
…
In the headmaster's office, Dumbledore sat down in his chair, his long silver hair and beard shimmering in the candlelight.
His long, slender fingers met at their tips, with his chin resting gently on them as he gazed up at the ceiling, deep in thought.
William, seated opposite him, also fell into contemplation, but nearly fell asleep instead.
Shaking his head, William asked:
"Professor, didn't you suspect the creature in the Chamber of Secrets was a basilisk?"
Dumbledore nodded.
"I killed the basilisk last term. Could there be another creature in the Chamber?" William asked, puzzled.
Dumbledore's expression grew solemn.
"William, the basilisk was never the real issue. Slytherin's chamber has existed for nearly a thousand years, and the basilisk never attacked students on its own.
"I won't claim it was harmless, but I must point out, does it really matter whether there's a basilisk or a chamber?
"The danger has never come from the basilisk, it comes from people."
William nodded thoughtfully. After a moment, he asked, "What do you make of tonight's events? Who's lying?"
"What do you think?" Dumbledore countered.
"Ron's explanation is plausible, but both Filch and Harry seem… strange."
"Exactly." Dumbledore nodded, "Harry was where he shouldn't have been, and Filch accused someone he shouldn't have."
"Filch's behavior was odd. Could he have been under the Imperius Curse?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Not the Imperius Curse... but I can't say yet. I've seen something like this before, it warrants investigation."
William nodded in understanding.
Dumbledore had lived long enough to see nearly everything.
"Professor, there's one thing that still confuses me, and I need your insight."
"The culprit left a message about the Chamber being opened, it was clearly meant to spread fear, to announce that the attacks have begun… that the game has begun.
"So,
"why didn't they kill Filch?
"After all, isn't a dead man far more terrifying than a living one?"