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May We Live In Interesting Times Chapter 12 (Chamber)
🕑 Added 2024-09-21 01:44:01 +0000 UTCWhen I woke, the room was a pit of shadow, only the dim glow of a candle flickering on Snape's desk. The scratching of his quill was the only sound in the room, rhythmic and unhurried as he meticulously graded papers. The classroom felt more hollow than usual, eerie without the usual hum of students.
Crabbe and Goyle had vanished, leaving me alone on the cold stone floor, still bound by chains. If not for the raw ache in my throat and the clinking sounds the chains made with each shallow breath, I could have convinced myself it was all a horrible dream.
But it wasn’t.
The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating. I clenched my fists, trying to get some blood flowing and slowly gathered what little strength I had left. My voice when it finally came was a hoarse whisper, barely audible over the sound of Snape's quill.
"What...time is it?"
Snape didn't acknowledge me. His quill moved with precise strokes, deliberate and unhurried, as though my words were nothing more than the rustling of wind. The candlelight cast long shadows across the dungeon, dancing along the stone walls, and the only sound was the steady scratch of ink against parchment.
Just as I was beginning to think he’d leave me to rot in this suffocating silence, Snape finally set down the quill. For a long moment,he didn’t look at me, his gaze still on the paper before him. He capped the ink bottle with meticulous care, dragging the silence out even further. When he finally, his eyes were cold and hard.
“You’ve always been reckless, Draco...” His voice was quiet and sharp. “But this…” He gestured vaguely with one hand, as if the very thought of my actions was too repulsive to fully articulate. "This was a level of stupidity I did not think even you capable of."
I opened my mouth, desperate to speak, to explain, to defend myself but nothing came. The weight of his contempt bore down on me pinning me in place, making it clear that anything I said would be worthless.
"Do you have any idea," Snape continued, his tone dangerously soft now, "what you’ve tampered with? The consequences of such careless use of dark magic?"
His eyes seemed to glisten coldly.
"I thought you smarter than this," he said quietly, his voice as sharp as a blade. "Projecting like a fool. Do you think the Dark Arts is just something to play with? To use like a fool with no consequences?! Just falling headfirst into it?!!”
“You’d have literally laughed yourself to the grave. A few moments more, and there would’ve been nothing left of you but a lifeless husk with a smile frozen on its face."
I had come to that realization but his words still were like a punch to the gut, hitting me with the force of a Bludger. I had been on the brink of death, teetering on the edge of an abyss, and I hadn’t even realized it. The darkness, the uncontrollable laughter, the creeping cold—they had all been signs of how far Death came for me.
All because of my carelessness. My desperation to follow through with the plan.
Snape's expression only seemed to get more severe as a mixture of anger and something else—something that looked suspiciously like concern—flickering in his eyes.
"The Dark Arts are not a toy," he continued, his voice lower now but no less forceful. "They are not something to be trifled with. You think you can control them, bend them to your will, but the truth is, they are far more dangerous than you can possibly comprehend. One mistake, one misstep, and you could find yourself lost forever."
“You’re lucky to be alive,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Had you been less fortunate—or I less incompetent—you would have joined the many foolish souls who came before you, who thought they could bend magic to their will only to find themselves crushed under its weight.”
I wanted to say something, to offer some form of defense or explanation, but nothing came. The weight of what had just happened—the cold realization of how close I’d been to death—left me paralyzed and the realization that I couldn’t share anything with my godfather, couldn’t let him find anything about my plan.
He let his words hang heavy in the air. With a swift flick of his wand, the chains binding me disappeared, clattering to the floor and vanishing as though they had never existed. My arms dropped heavily to my sides, still trembling with aftershocks.
"Get up," Snape commanded, his voice back to being flat and emotionless. He didn’t even look at me as he dropped a handful of potion vials on the floor their glassy surfaces glinting in the dim light. "Take these and leave. You’ve already wasted enough of my time."
I hesitated for a moment, unsure if my legs would even hold me. Slowly, I forced myself to stand. The world tilted dangerously and my knees nearly buckled beneath me as every muscle screamed in protest.
I managed to stand, though it felt like trying to balance on a tightrope. Each step was an effort, my legs heavy and unsteady, but I willed myself to move forward, dragging my feet towards the door.
“Be sure that your father will be informed of this.”
My hand found the doorframe, steadying myself for a moment before I took another breath and stepped into the hallway. The cool stone of the dungeons felt unyielding beneath my feet, and the air was sharp, cutting into my lungs with each breath I took. I didn’t dare look back, not wanting to see whatever expression Snape.
I knew I was supposed to feel something—regret, guilt, whatever it was that made Snape's eyes burn with disappointment—but I didn’t. At least, not enough to matter.
I owed him a blood debt now. And what did that mean to me? Nothing. I didn’t even have the energy to be sorry. Everything that had happened—the pain, the fear—it had drained me of anything remotely like remorse. All I felt was emptiness.
I just needed to keep moving.
The castle was a maze, but I knew my way, even though the halls felt more oppressive tonight, their towering walls looming like sentinels, watching me stumble past. After what felt like an eternity of clinging to the walls, fingers gripping the rough stone for support, I finally reached the place I’d been searching for. A place no one dared to go.
Moaning Myrtle’s haunt.
The bathroom door creaked open, the sound of dripping water greeting me. It was empty as always and the dim light was hardly enough to see by, but I didn’t need to see. I knew the way. My fingers brushed against the cool, slick surface of the pipes, trailing along them until I found what I was looking for—the small, almost imperceptible engraving of a snake.
I paused, feeling the cold metal under my fingertips. Then my lips parted, the ancient language coming to me exactly in the tone I heard it.
“Open,” I hissed, the word slipping out in a low, sibilant whisper.
The wall in front of me began to shift, the stones unfurling and separating as if they were nothing more than a curtain being drawn back. With a groaning sound, the passage opened, revealing a dark, yawning mouth that sloped downward into an unknown abyss—a slide that beckoned me with the promise of solitude.
I took one last look around the bathroom, then, without a second thought, stepped forward and let gravity pull me down into the darkness below.
Into the Chamber of Secrets.
The descent downward was fast, the air cold and damp. The pipe twisted and turned, sending me sliding deeper below Hogwarts. The slide finally leveled out, and I landed hard on a wet, stone floor. My wand lighting before o even realized I pulled it out.
The air was thick with the smell of mold and decay.
“Under the lake, most likely,” I muttered, half-remembering the details from what felt like another life.
The walk forward was tiring and my stomach growled. I was tired and hungry. I had missed the feast. Bones littered the floor—small animals, long dead. I stepped over them, not letting my mind wander to what else might be down here.
Rounding a corner, I saw it: a huge, coiled shape lying across the tunnel floor. Even expecting it, the sight of the Basilisk’s shed skin made my heart skip. It was massive, its green scales dull and lifeless. I kept moving, stepping around it, reminding myself it was dead, just an empty husk.
The tunnel seemed endless, winding deeper and deeper until I reached a dead end. Two serpents were carved into the wall, their eyes set with large, green stones. I knew what to do—had known it since I first read about this place.
“Open,” I hissed in Parseltongue. The wall cracked open, the serpents sliding apart.
The place was enormous, a cavernous expanse stretching out before me, with towering stone pillars entwined with serpents rising to support a ceiling lost in darkness. A faint greenish light bathed the chamber, casting long, sinister shadows that seemed to shift with every breath I took.
My heart pounded in my chest, not from fear I knew. No, This was from excitement.
The silence was oppressive, the only sound being the echo of my footsteps on the cold, damp floor. My eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of movement, any sign of danger. The hollow eye sockets of the stone serpents seemed to follow me, as if they were waiting for something. I half expected one of them to come to life, but they remained still, their stone forms unmoving.
Then I saw it—coiled in the far corner, a massive, decaying corpse of the basilisk. The creature that had once terrorized Hogwarts was now nothing more than a lifeless husk, its once-bright green scales dull and mottled with rot. Its empty eyes stared blankly ahead, and the stench of death hung heavy in the air around it.
I approached cautiously, but I knew the beast was long dead. Even so, seeing it up close sent a shiver through me. It was a reminder of the power that nearly got the school shut down in our second year.
But I wasn’t here for the basilisk. I had something else in mind. I knelt down, pressing my hand to the cold stone floor in the centre of the chamber. I closed my eyes, focusing on the faint thrumming of magic that pulsed through the chamber.
I extended my senses outward, sending out pulses of energy, feeling them ripple through the ground. At first, there was nothing—just the cold, unyielding stone beneath me. But then, I felt it.
A network of power, a lattice of magic woven so tightly into the earth it was as if the very bones of the world thrummed with its energy.
Like the roots of Yggdrasil itself.
The leyline hummed beneath me like a living thing, ancient and untamed. I could feel its power thrumming through the stone, subtle at first, a soft, steady pulse just beneath the surface. But as I focused, letting my magic reach deeper into the earth, the sensation grew stronger, more insistent, like blood rushing through a body. Each beat sent a ripple of energy up my spine, quickening my pulse.
For a moment, I was frozen, caught in the awe of it. The leyline stretched out in all directions, a vast, intricate web of power, crisscrossing beneath Hogwarts, deep beneath the lake. It was as though I had tapped into the heart of the world itself, and I could feel it, every inch of it—pulsing, alive, infinite.
The excitement surged through me, almost overwhelming. This was what I had been searching for. Exactly what I needed for the ri-
Krrrk!!
I jerked upright, my heart hammering in my chest, the elation curdling into cold dread. My wand was in my hand in an instant, the tip sparking with light, casting long, flickering shadows that danced across the serpentine columns. I whirled around, eyes scanning the dim chamber, searching for the cause of the sound I heard.
"Who's there?" My voice came out sharper than I intended, the echo bouncing off the walls, making the chamber seem even more vast and hollow.
For a heartbeat, there was nothing but silence. The oppressive quiet of the chamber seemed to press in on me from all sides, the flicker of my wand casting shadows that shifted and swirled with every movement. I tightened my grip, my breath coming in short, ragged bursts.
My resonance sensing could sense nothing ahead of me but I was sure I heard something.
With a flick of my wand, I murmured, “Homenum Revelio.”
The spell pulsed through the air, shimmering as it sought out any nearby life. I felt a brief, anxious anticipation—but nothing. The chamber remained still, the only movement the flicker of my wand's light against the cold stone.
I frowned, the tension tightening in my chest. It had to be something small. Probably a rat or some creature scurrying in the shadows.
Shaking my head, I turned back toward the heart of the chamber, ready to delve back into studying the leyline. But just as I took a step, a gut feeling tugged at me.
I immediately apparated, disappearing and reappearing at the entrance of the chamber facing inside. “Expelliarmus!”
A blast of wind erupted from my wand, surging through the air with a force that sent a wind racing across the chamber. It swept over the entrance to the tunnel, and in that moment, the cloak was lifted, fluttering around her like a ghost, revealing her startled face.
There she was: Hermione Granger, her eyes wide with surprise.
Comments
Alkole
🤣🤣🤣🤣yh my name is just backwards
Khanadiety
Elokla is that you?
Alkole
Thanks for the chapters can't wait for more
