The Raven's Call

Back to the Chamber

The entire school seemed to shift beneath our feet as students and staff swept toward the staircase, spilling into the corridors in a tide of motion and purpose. Shouts echoed through the stone halls, spells sparked from drawn wands as protective enchantments were cast, and banners were torn down to be used as barricade cloth. Suits of armor clanged to life, marching into place at the command of the professors. Peeves cackled somewhere above, already setting traps with a manic kind of glee.

As I descended the grand staircase, wand gripped tight in my hand, I caught sight of Harry just ahead. He'd stopped near the base, Ron and Hermione flanking him, speaking in hushed but urgent tones. I slowed, close enough to overhear, but not enough to intrude.

"Harry," Ron was saying, "Hermione and I have been thinking. It doesn't really matter if we find the Horcrux..." Harry halted mid-step, brow furrowing. "What're you saying?" "Unless we can destroy it," Hermione added, her voice laced with quiet determination. "So we were thinking—" Ron began. "You were thinking. It was Ron's idea it's completely brilliant." Hermione corrected. "You destroyed Tom Riddle's diary with a Basilisk fang, right? Well... we know where we might find one, don't we?" Ron pressed on, nodding.

I watched Harry process that. He didn't say anything at first, just stared at them both, then finally gave a small nod. "Okay. But take this," he said, fishing into his jacket and pressing the Marauder's Map into Hermione's hand. "That way you can find me when you get back." Hermione clutched it like it was the most important thing in the world. "Where are you going?" "Ravenclaw Common Room," Harry replied, already running up the stairs. "Gotta start somewhere."

I leaned back slightly, heart racing in my chest. My original goal had been to tell Harry he should speak to a ghost—if anyone would know Hogwarts' secrets, it'd be one of them—but now something more pressing had surfaced. Neither Ron nor Hermione could speak Parseltongue. Their trip to the Chamber of Secrets would be spectacularly uneventful if they couldn't even get through the front door. So I turned, trailing them at a distance. I caught sight of Luna. Her pale eyes darted across the corridor. "Harry!" she called out, rushing past me. I met her gaze briefly—she didn't question where I was going. And I didn't need to question her either.

I weaved through students shouting orders and hauling supplies. Suits of armor clanked to life. Spells whizzed overhead as older students practiced shielding charms. Somewhere behind me, Peeves was already celebrating the chaos, cackling like it was Christmas. I followed Ron and Hermione down a side corridor, stepping lightly. I didn't have a plan. Just a sinking feeling that they were about to hit a wall—and that I was the only one who could open it for them. We descended deeper into the castle, away from the noise and motion of the battleground above. The halls grew quieter, heavier, as if even the stone itself remembered what had happened here before. Ron and Hermione moved with purpose, stealing glances at their surroundings like they expected the walls to shift. I stayed close but out of sight, rounding corners just after them, footsteps muffled.

Finally, they stopped outside an old girls' bathroom before slipping inside. I waited a beat before following, pressing my back to the wall just outside the door. Inside, I could hear them talking, trying to recall everything that took place in second year. "I think... it's that sink there," Hermione said. "Right, yeah—he said there was a snake on it." Ron moved closer. "But how do we open it?" "Well, Harry always spoke in Parseltongue. Maybe... maybe if I try to mimic it?" Hermione suggested. There was a beat of silence. Then a hissing sound—strained and awkward.

Nothing happened. Another attempt, from Ron this time. Also unsuccessful. I stepped inside. "You two look like you're trying to summon a pissed-off cat." They both jumped. "Atticus?" Hermione blinked. "What are you doing here?" "Saving your arses, apparently." I walked over to the sink and crouched in front of it, running my fingers over the carved serpent. "Neither of you speak Parseltongue," I said simply, glancing over my shoulder. I leaned in closer to the faucet and whispered the language, which I hadn't used in what seemed like a lifetime ago: "Open Sesame." 

With a mechanical groan and a sharp shudder, the sink sank into the floor and slid aside, revealing a dark, yawning tunnel. Ron let out a low whistle. "Blimey." "Right," I said, brushing the dust from my palms and stepping back. "You've got your entrance. Don't get eaten by anything. Repeat what I said for the next door." They exchanged a look, then Hermione stepped forward and gave me a grateful squeeze of the arm. "Thanks, Atti." "Be careful," I said, locking eyes with her for a moment. "Both of you." Then I turned to leave, the sound of their footsteps echoing behind me as they descended into the Chamber.