Hogwarts: I'm Truly a Model Wizard

After the party ended, everyone filtered out of the Great Hall with mixed feelings. The Skeleton Dance Troupe had vanished while they were still eating—a bit of a letdown.

"It's really hard to get that dance troupe to perform," said an eager young wizard in the crowd. "My dad told me the Ministry of Magic itself has to wait ages to book them."

"I heard they were at the last Quidditch World Cup, along with The Weird Sisters," someone chimed in. "People said it was the best opening show in a century."

"I never thought we'd get to see them at Hogwarts! Headmaster Dumbledore is amazing," another student marveled.

"Of course, it's Dumbledore…"

The students chatted excitedly about the performance as they walked toward their common rooms. But before they reached the doors of the Great Hall, a piercing howl echoed down the stairs—a shrill, eerie sound that sent a shiver down their spines.

The chatter slowly faded.

"What was that?" someone asked, breaking the silence.

"It was Mrs. Norris," another replied. "That screech always makes my scalp tingle. No mistaking it."

"Did she catch someone breaking the rules again? But… we were all in the Great Hall!"

"Or maybe a dangerous creature from the Forbidden Forest got loose… Mrs. Norris sounded different, like my cat when she's scared."

"Let's go see what's going on!"

Curiosity quickly won out, and the crowd surged toward the staircase, eager to discover the cause of the disturbance. After all, the party was over, and the thrill of danger only added to the excitement.

Another shriek rang out from the third floor. They hurried down an empty corridor and finally saw Mrs. Norris, perched atop a statue at the end, fur standing on end like a hedgehog's quills. She was glaring at something with wild eyes.

There, on the wall behind her, words glistened in faint, bloody strokes beneath the flicker of a torch:

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

Pressed against the wall nearby, looking pale and alarmed, stood Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry appeared on the verge of saying something, but as he turned slightly, Mrs. Norris let out a furious yowl, locking her gaze on him.

The crowd now realized what had caused the initial noise.

Click!

Colin Creevey pushed forward through the throng, clutching his camera. "Harry! I've been looking for you. Why didn't you stay for the feast?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Mrs. Norris cut him off with another menacing growl. Now, any attempt to move even a step brought the cat closer, her claws poised to strike all three of them.

Long, fresh scratches marred the skin of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. For some reason, they seemed unable to pull away.

"Excuse me… excuse me…" Kyle pushed his way through the crowd, curious about the commotion. But when he caught sight of the bloody message on the wall, his expression tightened in shock.

The Chamber of Secrets?

How could that be possible? Riddle's diary was still safely locked away in his suitcase—a suitcase he carried with him at all times. No one else could have accessed it.

But then… what was happening here?

Kyle's thoughts spun in a chaotic whirl, and he barely registered his friend Kanna saying something beside him. He instinctively stepped closer, trying to make sense of it all.

But Mrs. Norris, usually friendly toward Kyle, was in no mood for greetings. She turned her sharp gaze on him, baring her claws with a low, hostile growl. Kyle stopped, hesitant to press forward.

Only then did he notice that Mrs. Norris wasn't actually perched on a statue. She was standing on top of Filch, who was slumped over, completely still. His head was bowed, which was why they hadn't recognized him at first.

Others in the crowd began to notice it too.

"Beware of those who make enemies of the Heir! You'll be next, Mud–" Draco Malfoy sneered, his voice trailing off before he could finish. His icy eyes lit up with cruel delight, and a rare flush crept over his normally pale face as he cast a taunting look at Hermione.

In the crowd, Kyle's frown deepened, his mind churning with uncertainty. If Filch's current state wasn't due to the Petrification Curse… then it could only be the Basilisk.

No, there must be something wrong, Kyle thought. Just as he decided to head to the second-floor girls' bathroom where Myrtle lingered, the professors arrived.

"What's going on here?" Dumbledore's commanding voice cut through the murmur of students.

The crowd parted instantly, allowing Dumbledore to move to the front, with the other professors close behind. In a moment, he reached Filch, and Mrs. Norris, ceasing her restless pacing, leapt down and settled quietly at Dumbledore's feet.

"Everyone, back to your dormitories," Dumbledore instructed. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger—I need your help with something. Come with me."

Lockhart bustled forward. "Headmaster, my office is nearby, upstairs… and I have a keen interest in this dark magic business. I once resolved a similar case for the Carpathian tribes! They–"

"Thank you, Gilderoy, your office will do nicely," Dumbledore interjected, cutting him off with a nod. "Could you also inform Madam Pomfrey? I believe she should come here."

"Certainly, Headmaster." Lockhart, brimming with self-importance, turned and hurried off toward the Hospital Wing.

The other professors trailed behind Dumbledore, and as they passed, they instructed the prefects to lead students back to their common rooms.

As soon as the professors were out of sight, the crowd erupted into a clamor of voices, everyone speculating about what had happened to Filch and what the mysterious Chamber of Secrets could mean.

Malfoy, now surrounded by students, wore a smug smile but offered no further explanations.

Prefects moved through the crowd, calling for students from their houses. Harris, one of the prefects, spotted Kanna. "Kyle, let's go back…" she started to say, only to realize Kyle wasn't beside her anymore.

"Cedric, have you seen Kyle?" she asked, turning to him.

"He was just here… Wait, where'd he go?"

Outside the noisy crowd, Kyle, cloaked by the Disillusionment Charm, sprinted toward Myrtle's bathroom.

He checked the crack of the door—the quill he had placed there earlier was still in place. Pushing open the door, he found the enchanted books, all still exactly where he had left them. He crouched down, checking under the books, confirming that even the strands of hair he had set up as a precaution were untouched.

"Oh, Kyle, you've come to comfort me!" Myrtle sobbed from atop one of the sinks. "That awful Peeves said that I–"

"Sorry, Myrtle," Kyle interrupted, getting straight to the point. "Has anyone else been in here recently?"

Myrtle stopped mid-sob, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. "Just you," she replied.

"Besides me," Kyle clarified. "Has anyone else come in here?"

"No one would dare come here! Not with poor, crying, sulking Myrtle around!" She burst into fresh wails.

Kyle wasn't in the mood to console her. He left quickly, heading for an empty classroom where he could search further in private. Once there, he pulled his suitcase from the Mokeskin pouch he kept on him. Inside the magically enlarged space, he checked his setup: everything appeared exactly as he had left it.

But when he lifted the magic box from under his bed, his heart sank—the box felt lighter than it should.

No… this can't be. No one could have gotten in here.

Taking a shaky breath, Kyle opened the box. It was empty. The diary that had been secured inside was gone.

Wait… I must have opened it wrong.

Kyle closed the lid and tried again, over and over, until finally, he had to accept the truth. The diary was missing—stolen from right under his nose.

Just then, a Billywig drifted over, hovering near him.

Seeing it, Kyle asked quickly, "Has anyone been here?"

The Billywig bobbed in midair with an expression of indifference, emitting a tiny chirp.

"I'm the only one who's been here? Are you sure?"

The creature fluttered up and down in a nod.

Undeterred, Kyle tracked down the Niffler and Norbert, asking them the same question. He received the same answer. The Niffler sniffed the air and glanced around, confirming that no other wizard had entered the room.