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Basi hissed in what might have been laughter, the sound unsettling in the empty Chamber. "The Minister knew little," he rumbled. "It was likely an act of desperation. No one from the Ministry has reached these depths. But if they bring a Parselmouth, they will seek me."
Harry nodded, crossing his arms as he considered this. "Right. They're probably assuming you'd be guarding something connected to Voldemort, seeing as he was also a Parselmouth. They have no idea what's really down here."
"Correct. They suspect much, but know little," Basi confirmed, coiling himself around a nearby column. "What do you plan to do about this?"
"They're not getting in here," he said firmly. "I'll handle any Parselmouth they throw at us."
Basi tilted his head, his gaze steady. "Then I shall await your instructions, Heir," he replied, bowing his massive head slightly.
Harry nodded in acknowledgment. "Good. I'll be back soon with more. Stay hidden until then."
Basi nodded, slithering back into the shadows, his massive body blending seamlessly into the Chamber's walls.
Harry watched as Basi slithered away into the dark corners of the Chamber. Once alone, he moved closer to the walls, his eyes tracing over the ancient carvings. They were runes, or rather something Harry had come to call Parselrunes. They resembled the snake-like script from the old book Slytherin left, the one he was studying for months now.
Harry was still figuring out the Parselrunes, but he made progress. To reveal them, he had to string together certain words—a combination of intent and command. It was likely why he hadn't noticed them before. When he changed Tom Riddle's slide to a elevator last year, it was clear the Chamber was far more responsive to his intentions than he realized, similar to Ravenclaw's chamber that seemed to respond to one's purpose. All four founders apparently knew about "Intentus Revelio" magic. Harry knew right away that this type of Intentus Revelio magic wasn't anything secret in the Founders' era.
After all, Helga Hufflepuff's Map of Hogwarts had a certain connection to the Intentus Revelio spell. Harry had dug into Gryffindor's history as well, learning that his battle sword could appear in his hand even when far away. He didn't know if it was the same spell or an altered version, but it was clear all four Founders had their own spin on Intentus Revelio.
Harry studied the ancient carvings on the walls, his gaze tracing the snake-like script with a growing sense of unease. The Parselrunes had fascinated him since he first stumbled across them, though figuring out what they meant was like piecing together a long-forgotten puzzle. He had a theory—one that suggested the Chamber could only be accessed by Parseltongues directly tied to Hogwarts or those who bore the title of Serpent of the Crown. But that was just a guess, and Harry wasn't about to rely on assumptions. He needed to be certain that no one else could poke into his domain.
The chamber around him was dark and cool, with the faint smell of damp stone. He shifted his weight, reaching up to touch one of the runes as he murmured a few words in Parseltongue. The carvings shimmered for a moment, but then settled back into their usual silent state. Harry let out a slow breath. This magic was trickier than he thought. It was clear that the Chamber had been set up with more than a little forethought; the runes seemed to hold back, revealing just enough to keep him curious but never quite enough to satisfy. Typical Slytherin.
Moving along the wall, he kept experimenting, testing different phrases, combinations of intent and command. Some reacted faintly, a soft glow here, a slight shift there, but nothing gave him what he was looking for. He was sure that somewhere in this ancient script lay the key to unlocking what the Founder had hidden. He wouldn't make it easy, of course. There were probably layers of enchantments designed to confuse or distract anyone who tried to understand Salazar's secrets. But Harry was nothing if not persistent.
After another failed attempt and a few hours later, he stepped back and let his eyes wander over the entire wall. This wasn't the only way to approach the problem. If the script itself wouldn't give, there might be other elements at play here—something woven into the Chamber that wasn't quite as obvious.
But before he could try another tack, a soft hiss caught his attention. Harry turned just in time to see Basi's massive form re-emerging from the shadows. The basilisk's yellow eyes, veiled behind a protective charm, glimmered with an unreadable expression.
"Still poking around, Heir?" Basi's voice was low, almost amused.
Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead as he scanned the ancient runes on the wall. "I have no clue where these even start, let alone where they end," he muttered, irritation creeping into his voice. Despite his frustration, he kept inspecting the inscriptions closely. He knew he wasn't going to unravel centuries of knowledge in a single day, but that wasn't the goal. He was just trying to make sure that no other Parselmouth could waltz in here uninvited.
"This has to be one of Slytherin's last creations," he mused, running his fingers along the rough stone. He'd only been learning Parselrunes for a few months—there was no way he'd decipher a master stroke with his meager knowledge now.
The runes stayed stubbornly silent, as if mocking him. It was like trying to read a book with missing pages, with bits of information just beyond reach. He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting Basi to comment, but the basilisk stayed quiet, watching with those yellow eyes.
"Alright, enough with the hide-and-seek," Harry said, addressing the runes directly.
Basi's massive head shifted, eyes tracking Harry's movements. "The Heir is frustrated," Basi noted, his voice carrying a low, rumbling amusement.
"Nothing gets past you, does it?" Harry replied, rolling his eyes.
Sitting on the cold stone floor, Harry steeled himself for what was bound to be a grueling task. He needed to analyze every last rune on the walls of the Chamber, and he needed to do it quickly. With a Parselmouth on the way, he had no choice but to push his limits.
Harry closed his eyes, inhaling deeply before plunging himself into the Virtual Room. He split his consciousness into fifty distinct streams, each one set to focus on different segments of the ancient Parselrunes. The overload was instant, hitting him like a hammer to the skull, but he forced himself through the searing discomfort. He'd learned how to handle intense mental strain over the years. This would be no different.
The fifty parts of his consciousness scanned the runes, tracing over the curves and jagged lines in relentless, determined succession. The ancient script was as twisted as the Chamber itself, coiling back on itself, full of traps and hidden meanings. Deciphering them felt like wading through a swamp of old secrets, but he knew he couldn't afford to miss a single detail.
Harry grit his teeth as a pounding headache threatened to break his focus. He pushed it aside, training each stream of thought to process the runes separately. Parsing each line, he began to pick up patterns, connections between the symbols that he hadn't noticed before. He could feel his concentration waning, but he held steady, refusing to let himself slip.
In the recesses of his mind, the system's database worked alongside him, collating the information he was gathering. He let it handle the logistics, while he focused on reading the actual runes. Slowly, pieces of a larger picture began to form. It wasn't just a language—it was a layered code. The phrases held more than one meaning, each symbol carrying a weight that depended on its context and positioning.
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