Chapter 184. A Familiar Night-time Excursion
Not right.
Nine out of ten not right.
Wesson keenly noticed Gilderoy Lockhart's fingers trembling slightly, with tiny beads of sweat seeping from his forehead.
That immaculate robe was wrinkled today, and there was a suspicious stain at the collar.
"Is that so?" Wesson said.
"Ah, I must be going," Lockhart suddenly said. "I have a few letters I need to send."
With that, Lockhart immediately turned and left.
That back looked a little bedraggled.
"What did you do to him?" Wesson couldn't help glancing at Severus Snape, asking in puzzlement.
Snape gave a short laugh. "I didn't do anything at all—merely told that fellow not to do anything unnecessary."
Wesson shrugged and didn't mind it. Likely Lockhart had done something else to make Snape angry.
Time kept passing, and the final exams drew ever closer.
One evening, Harry and Ron were in their dormitory playing Wizard's Chess.
As for revision, the two of them didn't seem to have it on their minds.
"You've lost again, Harry." After dropping the last piece, Ron said to Harry, "You made a wrong move on the seventeenth."
Harry ruffled his hair in annoyance; he hadn't the faintest idea how many moves he'd made.
It had to be said, Ron's level at Wizard's Chess was certainly respectable.
"Another round?" he said to Harry.
Harry waved a hand, climbed onto his bed, and picked up a book from his bedside to read. "Forget it. I've lost four in a row."
"Oh, don't be like that," Ron climbed onto the bed with Harry and looked at him in disbelief. "What are you reading?"
His roommate was actually reading a book?
This was a naked betrayal.
Harry showed him the cover—A Beginner's Guide to Ancient Runes.
"Let me see." Wearing a strange expression, Ron snatched the book from Harry's hands.
A moment later, he silently handed it back.
"What's wrong with you?" Harry asked, puzzled.
"My head hurts."
Harry shrugged and opened the book again.
In truth, he didn't like reading something this obscure and hard to understand either, but Wesson had once said that it would be very helpful for his future growth.
So he was forcing himself to study it.
Perhaps Hermione would like it—after all, she was the terrifying sort who treated A History of Magic as light reading to pass the time.
Thinking of this, Harry couldn't help feeling a little down.
How did Hermione manage it?
After a while.
"I'm going to sleep," Ron said.
Harry nodded. He was thinking the same; A Beginner's Guide to Ancient Runes was making him a bit drowsy.
As for their other three roommates, they had long since fallen into dreams.
Their beds were very close, so the two of them whispering wouldn't disturb anyone else.
"When will things get back to normal?" Lying on his bed, Ron couldn't help letting out a sigh. "This term is almost—"
"Don't make a sound!" Harry suddenly whispered.
"What is it?" Ron hurriedly sat up in bed.
By moonlight, he saw Harry also sitting up, brow tightly furrowed.
Harry didn't reply, holding that posture.
"Hun… hun… hungry…"
The strange voice stabbed into the eardrum like an ice pick; Harry's spine went rigid in an instant.
It was the Basilisk's voice!
Faint as it was, Harry was sure—that was the Basilisk's voice.
He'd heard it many times already; there was no way he'd be mistaken!
At once, Harry's drowsiness vanished completely.
He jumped out of bed and started pulling on his clothes.
Watching Harry fumbling with his jacket, Ron couldn't help asking, "Where are you going?"
"To find Professor Wesson," Harry said anxiously. "I heard that voice again—the monster's out again. I've got to hurry and warn Professor Wesson!"
"Are you sure you want to go out at this time?" Ron glanced out the window; the moon was already hanging high. "If we're caught, we're done for."
"There's no help for it," Harry said gravely. "Only I can hear that voice. If I go and warn Professor Wesson now, there'll be a chance to put an end to this."
"Oh, all right," Ron muttered, climbing out of bed too and hurriedly pulling on a jumper. "I'll go with you."
Harry thought for a moment, then took his Invisibility Cloak from under the bed.
With the cloak, it shouldn't be a big problem.
The two of them slipped out of the dormitory on tiptoe, and in the pitch-dark common room Ron knocked over a low table.
"Shh—" Harry looked back nervously.
Of course, there was no one; it was eleven o'clock at night.
"What is it? Oh, no—what time is it now!?"
A voice suddenly came from the sofa, and Harry and Ron froze on the spot.
But when they saw who had spoken, they both let out a breath.
"Hermione?" Ron whispered. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, I fell asleep by accident." Hermione rubbed her sleepy eyes for a while, a trace of embarrassment showing. "How awful. Why didn't anyone wake me?"
Harry couldn't shake the feeling the scene was familiar.
Something like this seemed to have happened in first year…
Back then Hermione had also waited for the two of them in the common room.
However, Hermione was already one of them now; there was nothing to worry about anymore.
"What are you two sneaking around to do this time?" Hermione looked at them in confusion, then sneezed.
Though it was already May, it was still quite cold at night—she might have a slight cold.
Harry explained why they were there.
"Then what are you waiting for?" Hermione said. "I'm going with you—or you'll definitely botch it."
The three of them quickly made their way into the corridor.
At night, the corridors were bitterly cold.
"We don't actually have to be so careful," Hermione whispered. "Even if we're discovered, it doesn't matter—we're going to alert a professor, not do anything else."
Although Harry felt Hermione had a point, he still shook his head. "We can't tip our hand. That monster's cunning as anything; it gets away every time. If we want to catch it, we have to take it by surprise."
Although the professors patrolled every night, the three were lucky—they didn't see even a shadow of anyone and arrived smoothly at Wesson's office door.
Harry knocked, then tried the handle; there was no response.
"Professor Wesson isn't in. It might just be his turn to patrol tonight," Hermione said.
Harry's expression sank. With a sigh he said, "That voice is still spinning around in my head. Since Professor Wesson isn't here, let's find another professor—anyone will do. Which office is the nearest to us?"
"Er…" Ron's expression went odd. "Nearest? Probably… Lockhart's office. Or we could go to Professor McGonagall."
"Lockhart is not a good choice," Harry frowned. "Let's go to Professor McGonagall."
Ron and Hermione both nodded in agreement.
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