In the afternoon, after Defense Against the Dark Arts class ended, the students poured out of the classroom in a wave of chatter.
Everyone was abuzz with the same topic—today's class had actually been taught by Headmaster Dumbledore himself. According to his announcement, Professor Lockhart had taken an indefinite leave due to illness.
Most students were overjoyed. At last, they could experience a proper class.
Lockhart's lessons had been nothing short of chaotic. Each session was riddled with errors, and on more than one occasion, a second-year student had to step in to salvage the situation.
While no one knew Kai Adler's true abilities, it was universally acknowledged that Lockhart's competence was abysmal.
Today's lesson was, for many, the first time they'd truly felt they were learning something useful since the term began.
At that moment, Draco Malfoy strode down the corridor, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, though the two boys kept a noticeable distance from each other—still clearly unsettled by the effects of that recent love potion incident.
"Draco," Crabbe leaned forward, still munching on something, "you really aren't the Heir of Slytherin?"
"Would you stop talking with your mouth full?" Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. "And how many times do I have to say it? I'm not."
"But it's a bit too much of a coincidence, isn't it? You said you were going to teach that Kai Adler a lesson the other day, and now he's the one who's been attacked."
Draco gave a sharp, satisfied snort. "Serves him right. Always strutting about, acting like he's better than the rest of us. Who knows where that freak came from—some backwater wizard family, no doubt. If the Heir of Slytherin was going to target anyone, it'd be someone like him."
"I don't know…" Crabbe muttered, "he has the poise of someone from a noble house."
Draco's eyes narrowed. "You've been acting odd lately. Don't tell me you've gone soft on him since that night?"
"Don't forget, Vincent Crabbe, your family is sworn to the Malfoys."
"It's… it's the Malfoy family," Crabbe muttered quickly, lowering his head.
"Exactly." Draco smirked and tossed his head back proudly. "Never forget where your place is. Without my family, the Crabbes would be nothing."
Crabbe didn't respond again.
Having reasserted his dominance, Draco continued walking, basking in the wary glances the younger students cast his way. Their fear only made him feel more important.
And yet—he couldn't help feeling a tinge of disappointment.
If only he were the true Heir of Slytherin. Then he could personally rid Hogwarts of all those annoying Muggle-borns… and give Kai Adler the comeuppance he deserved.
"Tch," he clicked his tongue softly and turned toward the Slytherin dormitory.
As soon as he reached his room, Draco threw himself onto the bed—only to wince as something hard pressed into his back. Irritated, he sat up and yanked back the sheets.
His pupils shrank.
There, lying inconspicuously under the covers, was a black notebook.
He recognized it instantly. It shouldn't be here.
His father had given him that very notebook at the start of term, instructing him to casually pass it off to someone else. No explanations.
Draco had simply dropped it on the floor after a lesson and waited. Before long, the ever-oblivious Lockhart had picked it up, just as expected.
Draco hadn't given the notebook another thought since. He had no idea what it was, nor did he care. If his father wanted someone else to have it, that was all that mattered.
But now—why was it back in his room?
A chill crept down his spine.
Had Lockhart realized something and come to confront him? But that didn't make sense… Lockhart hadn't shown up at all today.
And now this cursed notebook was back.
He glanced around in a panic, confirming that the room was empty. No one else could have entered—the Slytherin common room required a password and only admitted house members.
Could someone have forced their way in?
Just as that thought crossed his mind, he failed to notice the faint shimmer in the air behind him.
A breath later, his eyes glazed over, and his expression turned blank. In a dazed state, he picked up the notebook and walked mechanically toward the door.
As the dormitory door shut behind him, Kai Adler emerged from thin air.
The corners of his mouth curled into a cool, almost sinister smile—so very different from his usual calm gentleness.
He stepped into the room, brushing his fingers along the now-vacant desk, before pausing at the edge of the bed.
His eyes fell upon Draco's trunk in the corner, lying half-closed and crooked. Kai narrowed his eyes slightly.
A silver emblem was inlaid on the front of the trunk—an ornate crest bearing a capital M framed by twin dragons. The detail was exquisite, the style unmistakably aristocratic.
He frowned.
He'd seen this emblem before. Somewhere.
But no matter how he tried to recall, the memory eluded him. With a small shake of his head, he let it go for now.
He had other matters to attend to—chief among them, keeping an eye on Hermione and the others.
With a swirl of magic and the soft crackle of displaced air, he vanished from the room.
Meanwhile, Hermione, Harry, and Ron were seated inside Hagrid's hut. The oversized furniture and warm fire gave the room a cozy feeling, but Hagrid looked uneasy.
He'd heard the news.
Just yesterday, Kai Adler had visited him. And now, by morning, he was found petrified.
Now the trio had come to visit—and Hagrid's anxiety was plain to see.
"Hagrid," Harry said directly, "what did Kai come to see you about yesterday?"
Hagrid's lips, hidden behind his wild beard, tightened. "He only asked me one thing—then he left right after."
"What did he ask?" Ron pressed.
"He asked… who Tom Riddle was."
Harry's brows furrowed. That name again. The name from the notebook Kai had been carrying.
"What did you tell him?" Hermione asked quietly.
Hagrid licked his dry lips. "I told him the truth. Tom Riddle… is Lord Voldemort."
The three froze.
Hermione's eyes went wide. That notebook… belonged to Voldemort? She clenched her fists. That Kai—why didn't he tell me?
Then again, Voldemort being a Parselmouth made too much sense. It would explain how the Basilisk was controlled.
Her eyes flicked to Harry's back thoughtfully. He was a Parselmouth too… Was that just a coincidence?
She thought back to the so-called prophecy Dumbledore and Kai had alluded to. She had dismissed it at first, thinking it just another oddity of wizarding superstition.
But now… now she wasn't so sure.
Harry, still processing the revelation, asked, "So it was Voldemort who opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago?"
Hagrid nodded. "Aye."
"Then… do you know where the Chamber is located?"
Hagrid opened his mouth to answer—when a loud knock sounded at the door.
His expression changed at once.
"Quick! Hide—under the cloak! Now!" he hissed.
The trio didn't ask why. Ron fumbled in his bag and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. All three crouched together beneath it just in time to vanish from sight.
The door opened a moment later, and Dumbledore stepped in first, his expression unreadable. He was followed by a genial-looking man in an official Ministry robe.
And behind him—
The trio's breath caught.
Lucius Malfoy.