200 experience points consumed, knowledge flooded into Ted's mind.
Ted read through it carefully and realized the world described was eerily similar to one plagued by magical mutations.
Humanity had tried to destroy cursed space rocks with nuclear missiles, but the result was catastrophic. The radioactive fallout, combined with the remnants of the rocks, triggered wild transformations in cold-blooded creatures—turning them into horrific monsters.
Most of the humanity's population perished. The survivors were forced into hiding, retreating into deep underground shelters to survive.
This illustrated book had been compiled by a survivor at a great cost, detailing the monsters they encountered.
"Seems a bit useless... Sure, the monsters here are bizarre—like toads the size of carriages or centipedes as thick as tree trunks—but I'm not Hagrid..."
'Wait a minute. What if the information could be used like in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them?'
"If Nevill eand the others can grow magical plants like the ones from Plants vs. Zombies, why not try breeding beasts too?" Ted muttered. "I mean, I've got experience raising Pokémon. Just look at Anzu—Anzu turned out great!"
But more urgently...
"I need something that can deal with a basilisk."
Ted knew they might have to face the basilisk eventually—just like they faced Voldemort last year.
But this time, it was even more dangerous.
This time, it wasn't Dumbledore's trap. He couldn't intervene directly. The most he could do was send Fawkes with the Sorting Hat and hope for the best.
Yes, Fawkes could protect Neville from venom... but if the basilisk crushed, bit, or swallowed someone whole—there'd be no coming back.
Not even a phoenix tears could revive that.
In this kind of world, danger was unavoidable. It was best to be prepared.
...
Ted made time to visit Hagrid.
Hagrid greeted him with a booming laugh and insisted Ted stay for lunch. "Got a nice chicken stew cookin' today!"
Ted's face fell. "Uh, actually, Hagrid—I came to ask for a live rooster!"
"A rooster?" Hagrid raised a bushy brow. "You too?!"
"Huh? Wait—who else came looking for your rooster?"
Hagrid waved his arms. "No, no, I mean—I've got bad news. Me roosters have all been killed."
Ted blinked. "What?! Who'd do that?"
Hagrid explained everything.
A few months after school started, his chickens began dying mysteriously. No blood, just snapped necks. He tried replacing them with chicks, raised them for months, and then—just yesterday—they were all killed again.
"This time, looks like somethin' bit 'em. Like a snake," Hagrid said, biting into a drumstick. "The wounds—definitely fangs."
Ted paused mid-bite and slowly set his fork down. "So... this whole pot of chicken…"
"Yup!" Hagrid beamed.
Ted paled. "I'm full! You enjoy, Hagrid. I'll be going now. And please—if you can, find me the fiercest rooster you've got!"
He bolted out the door and sprinted down the path, rummaging through his enchanted bag. "Where's the antidote?! I swear I packed it!"
After gulping down several bottles of potion, Ted sighed with relief.
Who knows what killed Hagrid's chickens.
Maybe a venomous serpent.
Hagrid might be fine eating the meat, but Ted? He might've died on the spot!
Forget the basilisk—he could've died just having lunch with Hagrid!
Luckily, Hagrid was quick. Within two days, he presented Ted with an enormous rooster.
"How big?" You ask. Well, let's just say—it reached up to Jerry's belly button when standing tall.
"Got it from a black market dealer," Hagrid said proudly. "Looks fierce, don't he?"
Ted nodded. "Impressive!"
Jerry whimpered from the corner, clutching his wand. "Keep it away from me! Have mercy!"
Over the next few days, Ted kept Brother Chicken in an abandoned classroom, carefully drawing up a transformation plan for him.
Sure, rooster crows could kill a basilisk, but Ted wasn't about to take that lightly. Just because it's in a book doesn't mean it's guaranteed.
Now the old classroom had turned into a magical zoo. There were little white mice born with spells in their blood, long-tailed monkeys recently regrown from potions...and of course, Brother Chicken. Anzu stopped by often, too.
Soon enough, May 9th arrived, and with it came the long-awaited Quidditch match: Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff!
This year had been especially difficult for the students at Hogwarts. It felt like every week brought some new crisis. In previous years, things had never been this intense.
The students were itching for a bit of excitement, something normal to take their minds off everything. But even that had become rare. Now, many were too anxious or scared to stir up any mischief.
That was why a group event like Quidditch was a welcome distraction. A brief moment of fun to ease the constant fear.
However, things didn't go as planned.
Ted and the others were still making their way to the Quidditch pitch when, out of nowhere, Professor McGonagall's voice echoed through the sky: "All students return to your common rooms immediately! The game is canceled! Prefects and the head boy and girl, take charge! Hurry!"
Her voice was sharp and urgent. Everyone stopped in their tracks.
Younger students looked around in confusion, unsure why the match was being called off. But the older ones went pale. They knew this meant something bad had happened.
Sure enough, when Ted and the others hurried back to the castle, they found a crowd gathered at the stairway leading to the dungeons.
Harley was already there, trying to see what was going on.
Ted and the others pushed their way forward. As they got closer, they heard someone crying. Ron's expression shifted immediately. He paled. "Peggy?!"
He shoved through the crowd, pushing people aside.
About twenty people had gathered, including Professor Flitwick. In the center, Peggy Weasley was on her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Lying motionless in front of her was a student, completely stiff like a statue.
Another victim of the basilisk. Luckily, still alive.
Hermione gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. "It's Penelope!"
Ted leaned in, looking past Peggy. It was indeed Penelope Clearwater, Ravenclaw's prefect.
He glanced around and noticed what had saved her—a highly polished piece of armor nearby. She must have seen the basilisk's reflection rather than its direct gaze.
But things didn't stop there.
Up on the third-floor corridor, another student had been petrified—Pansy Parkinson, a second-year from Slytherin.
Two attacks in one day.
The Quidditch match was officially canceled. All students were confined to their common rooms under strict orders, with prefects posted at the entrances.
The constant fear and stress had been building for weeks, and now, with two more victims, the tension snapped. The entire school was on edge.
And this time, one of the victims was a pure-blood Slytherin.
Wasn't the monster supposed to be targeting Muggle-borns? Why attack someone from a pure-blood family, and a Slytherin no less?
Within hours, dozens of owls were flying out from Hogwarts, delivering news to families all across Britain.
The heads of house gathered in the headmaster's office, their faces dark and worried.
In truth, when Justin Finch-Fletchley and the Fat Friar were attacked, the staff had already begun searching the castle in secret. But just like fifty years ago, they found nothing.
Despite their vigilance, Lavender Brown from Gryffindor had still been petrified.
Now it had escalated to two attacks in one day.
They couldn't contain it any longer.
Even before Lavender's attack, people outside Hogwarts had started asking questions. But Dumbledore's reputation had kept the worst of it at bay.
Not anymore.
That night, the owls brought in a special edition of the Daily Prophet. The front page covered everything: the Chamber of Secrets, the monster, the victims, even the school ghosts.
A reporter named Rita Skeeter didn't hold back.
She directly questioned Dumbledore's leadership, hinting he might be too old and frail to protect the school.
At dinner, Ted and the others read the paper and were furious.
Neville trembled with anger. "How dare she say that about Dumbledore? That awful woman..."
Harley tossed the newspaper aside. "What a load of rubbish. She's just a sensationalist hack."
Ron turned bright red with fury, while Jerry looked like he might throw his dinner across the table.
Dumbledore had allowed magical race like him to study at Hogwarts, and Jerry respected him deeply.
Hermione frowned as she scanned the article. "A reporter should report facts, not spread baseless accusations."
The whole table was united in anger.
Ted spoke calmly, trying to steady their mood. "Don't let it get to you. The press is often manipulated. I doubt these are just her personal thoughts."
"What do you mean?" Harley asked.
"Someone might have told her to write this. Dumbledore could be facing more than just public pressure."
The shock of the day's events had shattered whatever fragile calm remained.
Students were frightened. Many began sending letters to their families, begging to go home.
The professors, no longer concerned about appearances, launched a massive search of the entire castle.
Even Ted's assigned classroom—once abandoned, now used for practicing magic under Professor Flitwick's guidance—was thoroughly investigated.
Luckily, Ted had already moved his magical animals to the Room of Requirement. Nothing suspicious was found.
Still, after an entire day of combing through every corner, they found no clues.
...
As fear continued to spread, more and more students left Hogwarts. Within two weeks, nearly a quarter of the student body had gone home.
If this continued, the school would have to shut down.
It had happened once, fifty years ago. Hagrid had been blamed that time.
But what about now?