Although Ray's petrification made Adrian very angry, he forced himself to breathe deeply to control his emotions.

What followed were numerous questions that tumbled through his mind.

The diary had clearly been destroyed by his own hands. So, who, then, had released the basilisk?

The mystery deepened when he considered Ray's nighttime habits. Although Ray occasionally wandered the corridors and towers of Hogwarts castle during his restless nights—drawn perhaps by some need to patrol his territory—why would he happen him to encounter the basilisk in the courtyard?

Moreover, as a creature born of storm and sky, Ray should have been blessed with supernatural sensitivity to danger. Adrian couldn't understand how such Ray would fall victim to the basilisk's deadly gaze...

With these troubling thoughts swirling through his mind, Adrian turned to Harry and asked, "Harry, can you tell me exactly what happened when you arrived here?"

"We had just left Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party," Harry explained. "The whole thing was rather depressing. Ron was complaining about being hungry, and Hermione was trying to be polite about the whole affair."

He paused, running a hand through his hair. "That's when we heard it—this eerie voice, like nothing I'd ever heard before and spoke about hunger and killing. Ron and Hermione couldn't hear it, which made it all the more terrifying. I followed the sound through corridor after corridor."

Harry's voice dropped to a whisper. "When we finally arrived here in the courtyard, we found... this." He gestured helplessly at Ray.

After listening intently, Adrian found himself lost in thoughts. The explanation matched his expectations, yet it only served to deepen the mystery.

The questions were still unresolved.

Professor Dumbledore stepped forward then as he raised the legendary Elder Wand and a golden light enveloped Ray.

However, when the sunny light finally faded, the Thunderbird remained in its rigid posture, unchanged.

"My magic is powerless against this condition," Dumbledore said with a heavy sigh.

It seemed that even Dumbledore couldn't use spells powerful enough to reverse the basilisk's terrible petrification.

Seeing the dejection that begun to settle over the group, Adrian stepped and spoke. "It's quite alright, Professor, I have a batch of mature Mandrakes that should be able to restore Ray to normal once brewed into a potion."

At these words, the tension in Dumbledore's shoulders visibly eased, and the familiar twinkle began to return to his eyes. "That would be perfect. This certainly requires some potion assistance."

Besides the petrified Ray, the line of crimson writing on the ground was equally attention-grabbing.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware."

The writing seemed to be imprinted on the ground. No amount of scrubbing or magical cleansing could even begin to fade their glow.

However, Professor McGonagall finally came up with a good solution to their predicament. She directed a group of house-elves to carefully excavate the entire section of courtyard where the message had appeared.

This way, the writing disappeared.

Though it left a pit in the ground.

After completing this necessary but destructive task, Professor McGonagall's stern expression softened slightly as she gathered Harry and his two friends. "Come along now, you three. You've been through quite enough for one evening, and classes begin early tomorrow morning."

She led the trio away from the courtyard.

Dumbledore and Adrian remained behind in the courtyard.

"Professor Westeros, how much do you know about the Chamber?" Dumbledore asked slowly.

Adrian stepped forward to touch Ray, then turned back to reply: "I've heard some rumors over the years. It should be a chamber left by Slytherin, one of Hogwarts' four founders. Legend says Slytherin kept a terrible monster in the chamber to purge those unworthy of learning magic cleansing Hogwarts of what Slytherin considered to be inferior bloodlines. Do you have any other clues, Professor Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore's response was accompanied by a slow, regretful shake of his silver head. "I don't know much more than you do. Do you think this legend is real?"

Adrian pondered for a moment, sighed, and said, "It might be, or it might not be, or perhaps only half true. But I believe the Chamber exists Someone claiming to be Slytherin's heir has indeed opened that Chamber and released the monster... but I don't understand why they would target Ray."

"It is rather strange. Ray is just a Thunderbird," Dumbledore raised an eyebrow slightly. "Do you have any suspects? Regarding Slytherin's heir—the one who released the monster."

Adrian shook his head.

He had no clues whatsoever.

But he knew the Chamber's approximate location. Perhaps he could monitor the Chamber and find the true culprit.

Meanwhile, above them in Gryffindor Tower, the common room blazed with the warm light of a roaring fire. Harry, Hermione, and Ron had taken their usual chairs near the hearth, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames as they huddled together discussing what had just happened.

"Who could possibly have done such a thing?" Harry frowned deeply.

Ron was munching on cookies from the table—the evening's frantic running through dark corridors had made him unbearably hungry.

Between bites of treacle tart and pumpkin pasties, he gave his characteristic brand of reassurance: "Don't tie yourself in knots over it, Harry. Professor Dumbledore will handle everything. He'll definitely find the culprit."

"But what if he doesn't?" Harry clearly disagreed with Ron. "Remember what was written on the ground? This time it was Ray who was attacked. If there's a next time... What do you think, Hermione. You've been unusually quiet since we returned?"

At that moment, Hermione sat curled in her armchair frowning deeply. Hearing Harry's words, she snapped back to attention.

"Oh, yes, sorry," she said, blinking rapidly to refocus her attention on her friends' faces. "I was thinking about that writing we saw on the courtyard stones—specifically the word 'Chamber.' I have this nagging feeling that I've heard that word before."

Harry immediately straightened in his chair, hope flaring in his chest. "Where? Can you remember any details?"

But Hermione could only shake her head in continued frustration, "Give me some time to research properly, I'm sure I can remember."

Harry slumped back into his chair with a heavy sigh.

"I've never seen Professor Westeros so angry," He sighed. "I wish I could do something to help him."

"First, we need to figure out what the Chamber and the heir are," Hermione suggested.

Ron, having finally satisfied his immediate hunger, looked up from the now-empty plate and said bluntly. "Or find the real culprit directly," Ron said.

The Halloween night incident was perfectly covered up. Except for the inconspicuous pit in the courtyard, everything remained as usual.

The daily rhythms of castle life resumed their familiar patterns: students hurrying between classes with arms full of books and parchment, professors delivering lectures, house-elves maintaining their invisible but essential work of keeping the ancient castle functional and welcoming.

However, beneath this layer of normality, certain people found their routines altered by the previous night's incident.

Hermione, driven by an almost obsessive need to solve the puzzle that had embedded in her mind, began spending even more time than usual in the castle's library, hoping to find information about the Chamber in some book.

Ray's petrification wasn't a cause for concern either, since Adrian's greenhouse happened to have a batch of mature Mandrakes.

It would just take a little time to brew them into a potion.

So, Adrian decided to visit the Chamber first to assess the situation. Perhaps he could find some clues.

The next afternoon, after finishing his regular classes, Adrian came to the door of the girls' bathroom on the first floor of Hogwarts.

Honestly, this was his first time entering here.

Although during his student years he had been curious about the Chamber's existence, he had never come here.

After all, there was only a basilisk inside.

Adrian had never felt any desire to face such a creature, particularly not during his vulnerable student years when his magical abilities were still developing. The basilisk's petrification magic was very deadly even for adult wizards.

Perhaps only powerful magical creatures like Thunderbirds possessed sufficient natural resistance to basilisk magic to survive such an encounter.

Drawing a deep breath, Adrian pushed open the door and slipped quickly inside to avoid attracting unwanted attention from any passing students or staff members.

Inside was an ordinary bathroom, though somewhat dilapidated, with nothing else particularly unusual.

This bathroom had been abandoned for a long time. As for the reason for its abandonment—Adrian turned his gaze to a stall in the corner.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the door to the corner stall swung open, and a ghost girl with glasses floated out.

It was the ghost who permanently resided in this bathroom—Myrtle Warren—known to generations of students simply as "Moaning Myrtle".

It was because of her that students were unwilling to come here.

She seemed genuinely startled to discover another living person in her home.

"Another one come here to mock me, have you?" She wailed. "Everyone thinks poor Myrtle is nothing but a joke! Even in death, I can't escape the cruel laughter and pointing fingers..."

Adrian rarely saw Myrtle both in School Life and as a professor now, so naturally she didn't recognize him as a Professor.

"I'm a professor at Hogwarts," Adrian shook his head gently. "I have no intention of mocking you. I wanted to ask you about some things, Myrtle."

The ghost's wailing subsided somewhat at this unexpected response, though her suspicion was not gone.

"Oh, certainly," she said with bitter sarcasm, her voice dripping with decades of accumulated resentment. "Only when you need something from poor Myrtle do any of you bother to acknowledge my existence.?"

Despite her complaints, however, she stopped her sobbing and floated closer to Adrian, studying him through her thick spectacles with intense scrutiny.

"Very well then, Professor," she said at last. "What questions could you possibly have for a poor, forgotten ghost like myself?"

"Well then, Myrtle," Adrian asked, "have any suspicious people been here in the past few days?"

"I don't know," Myrtle spun in the air and covered her face with her sleeve. "Who would care about me? Nobody ever comes here... because there's an ugly monster here..."

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