A massive snake with the terrifying ability to petrify living creatures.
Maurise distinctly recalled reading a very similar description in a dusty tome somewhere, but he simply could not remember the exact title or author off the top of his head.
The following night, Maurise slipped into the Restricted Section of the library and spent several hours meticulously pulling books off the shelves. He finally found the relevant passage buried inside a decrepit volume titled The Greatness of Herpo the Foul.
The book detailed the life and supposedly "glorious" achievements of the infamous Ancient Greek Dark Wizard, Herpo the Foul. Based on the fanatical tone, the author was clearly a deeply disturbed worshipper.
"...It was through his unparalleled genius that Herpo the Foul discovered the glorious truth: hatching a chicken's egg beneath a common toad will birth a terrifying, magnificent entity known as the Basilisk."
"The gaze of the Basilisk is absolute death. Any living creature that meets its eyes directly will perish instantly. Should one gaze upon it indirectly, they will not die, but rather suffer the terrible fate of permanent petrification."
"What an awe-inspiring creation! What a monument to Dark Magic!"
"Below, I shall detail the precise methodology for breeding a Basilisk..."
The evidence was conclusive. The massive snake Tin had encountered that night was undoubtedly a Basilisk.
Maurise snapped the book shut and shoved it back into its dusty slot. He tapped his head with his wand, casting the Disillusionment Charm, and silently slipped out of the library like a ghost.
With the monster's identity confirmed, the next logical step was figuring out the exact location of the Chamber of Secrets and unmasking the true Heir of Slytherin.
As he glided down the dark corridor just outside the library, Maurise unexpectedly stumbled into someone he really did not want to see.
Albus Dumbledore.
Reacting instantly, Maurise canceled his Disillusionment Charm and seamlessly transitioned into Shadow Concealment, melting perfectly into the deep shadows cast by a towering suit of armor.
However, just as the Headmaster passed the armor, Dumbledore paused. He turned his head and stared with absolute precision directly into the patch of darkness Maurise was currently occupying. The old wizard's lips moved slightly.
Maurise could not hear the whisper, but he easily read the movement of the lips.
Maurise.
Dumbledore was calling his name.
He had been entirely discovered.
Letting out a quiet sigh of exasperation, Maurise dispelled the Umral Walk. His physical form stepped smoothly out of the darkness.
"Good evening, Professor."
Dumbledore did not look even slightly surprised. He simply offered a polite nod. "Good evening to you too, Maurise."
"If you do not mind me asking, sir, exactly how did you spot me?" Maurise asked, his curiosity genuinely piqued.
Based on all his previous encounters and magical analysis, Dumbledore's standard magical detection methods should have been completely blind to the Umbral Walk spell, as it operated on entirely different principles from native magic.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "Just a bit of intuition, my boy."
"That sounds highly improbable, Professor," Maurise replied flatly.
"Very well," Dumbledore chuckled, gently stroking his long silver beard. "If you must know, I recently consulted Fawkes on the matter. He was kind enough to teach me how to perceive the subtle shifts in the air when someone utilizes shadow magic."
Fawkes?
Maurise felt a sudden chill. He remembered that Fawkes was Dumbledore's phoenix.
As expected of the most powerful wizard in the world. He truly cannot be underestimated.
"So," Dumbledore continued, smoothly shifting the conversation, "to return to the matter at hand. Maurise, why exactly are you wandering the corridors at this rather late hour?"
Ah. Right. Why am I here? He certainly could not admit he had just spent three hours browsing the Restricted Section for instructions on how to breed a Basilisk.
Maurise entirely ignored the question and elegantly pivoted. "Professor Dumbledore, I have successfully identified the creature that attacked my cat."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. "Is that so? And what creature might that be?"
"A Basilisk." Maurise saw absolutely no reason to hide the information.
Dumbledore's expression grew incredibly solemn. "Are you absolutely certain, Maurise?"
Maurise nodded confidently. "I would say I am ninety percent sure."
Dumbledore remained silent for a long moment, lost in thought. He finally spoke, his voice heavy. "The Basilisk is an incredibly dangerous, deeply dark creature. Its gaze does indeed possess the power to petrify those who do not meet its eyes directly. It certainly aligns with some of my own darker suspicions."
"Have you managed to locate the entrance to the Chamber, Professor?" Maurise asked.
"That is the crux of our problem," Dumbledore sighed softly. "We cannot even confirm with absolute certainty that the Chamber of Secrets actually exists within the castle."
That answer genuinely surprised Maurise. "Well, that is rather terrible news."
"However, I believe this entire matter will be resolved in due time," Dumbledore smiled gently, stepping aside to clear the path. "It is late, Maurise. You should return to your dormitory. While nocturnal exploration is certainly thrilling, a full night of sleep is far more beneficial for a young, growing mind."
He paused, adding with a soft, meaningful tone, "Do be careful when walking the halls at night."
Maurise nodded respectfully and quickly disappeared down the corridor.
Dumbledore had not deducted a single House point, nor had he issued a detention. The Headmaster was surprisingly lenient.
---
While Maurise was entirely convinced the Chamber existed, attempting to find it within the massive, labyrinthine structure of Hogwarts was worse than looking for a needle in a haystack.
If no one had managed to find the room in a thousand years, he highly doubted he would stumble upon it by sheer luck. He was an incredibly talented wizard, but he was not the designated "Chosen One" of this universe.
The investigation would simply have to wait.
For the time being, Maurise fell back into his usual, comfortable routine. He practiced his spellwork, brewed complex potions, and continued slowly reassembling the buried dragon bones in the Forbidden Forest.
Saturday morning arrived, bringing with it the very first Quidditch match of the season. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. True to form for November, the match was played in a torrential, miserable downpour.
Maurise attended the match to enjoy the spectacle. Having spent over a year at Hogwarts, he finally understood the basic rules of Quidditch, so it was no longer completely boring.
Equipped with Lucius Malfoy's generous "donation" of Nimbus 2001s, the entire Slytherin team was noticeably faster and more agile than the Gryffindors.
Despite the sheer difference in equipment, Maurise still favored Gryffindor to win.
His reasoning was simple. Slytherin had an incredibly weak link: Draco Malfoy.
The boy was clearly unsuited for the Seeker position. His performance out on the pitch could best be described as sleepwalking.
"I genuinely believe putting Malfoy on the team was a catastrophic mistake for Slytherin," Cho Chang analyzed loudly over the roaring wind beside him. "He is far too nervous. Honestly, compared to Harry, he looks like he is just out for a leisurely Sunday stroll."
Maurise turned his attention back to the sky.
Suddenly, Harry was violently swerving and dodging in mid-air. One of the heavy iron Bludgers had seemingly gone completely rogue and was aggressively trying to batter him out of the sky.
"That Bludger is cursed," Cho said, peering through her Omnioculars. "Potter is in serious trouble."
Maurise suddenly recalled that Harry's broomstick had been jinxed during his first match last year. Was this genuinely going to be the exact same plot device repeating itself? That was incredibly lazy writing for the universe.
Gryffindor quickly called a timeout, but it was useless. When the match resumed, the rogue Bludger immediately locked back onto Harry.
In the chaotic final moments, Harry executed a suicidal dive, successfully catching the Golden Snitch right before violently crashing face-first into the muddy pitch.
The whistle blew, signaling Gryffindor's victory.
Maurise followed the rushing crowd down to the pitch. He found Harry lying in the mud. The boy had passed out from the pain, and his right arm was bent at a highly unnatural, sickening angle. It was clearly broken.
What an incredibly reckless boy, Maurise thought. It is just a school game. Is it really worth risking permanent injury?
As the crowd gathered, Gilderoy Lockhart aggressively shoved his way to the front, flashing his trademark, blinding smile.
"Stand back, everyone! Not to worry, I have got this completely under control!" Lockhart announced loudly, pulling out his wand. "I have vast, extensive experience dealing with simple injuries of this nature."
Seeing Lockhart actually draw his wand with the intent to cast, Maurise's curiosity spiked instantly.
He realized he had never actually seen the fraudulent professor attempt a genuine, practical piece of magic. This was bound to be entertaining.