Harry didn't have the Sorting Hat with him, nor could he use his Witcher techniques.
Those would be far too identifiable.
Instead, he raised his wand.
Chairs and tables twisted and transformed into brambles, forming a barrier before him. But they barely slowed his pursuers. A series of Blasting Curses reduced them to splinters in an instant.
That moment, however brief, was enough.
Harry cast another spell.
"Obscuro Nimbus!"
Thick fog rolled out, mixing with the dust from the explosions, cloaking his figure and enveloping the doorway in a shroud.
"He's trying to escape!" someone shouted.
Before the words had fully left their mouth, the door to the common room swung open, and Harry bolted through it.
The Slytherins followed close behind.
As they emerged from the fog, their view cleared, and they saw a figure darting into the bathrooms of the underground corridor.
Inside the restroom, the air was still.
Wary and on guard, the Slytherins checked each stall one by one.
All sixteen cubicles, from the outermost to the innermost.
What they found were a few panicked first- and second-years, who hadn't yet managed to pull up their trousers and now stared at them, pale and humiliated.
But of the intruder—nothing.
"He must have used a Disillusionment Charm!" one Slytherin suggested, raising their wand.
"Finite Incantatem!"
The others followed suit, chanting the same incantation.
The combined force of over a dozen Finite Charms swept through the bathroom, dissipating any magical concealment in its range.
Nothing.
"Where is he?!"
"Gone!"
The Slytherins' faces darkened in frustration.
The first one to shout the spell frowned and declared, "We'll tell Professor Snape. He'll find him for sure!"
But Harry had already donned his Invisibility Cloak and slipped through the crowd unnoticed.
Once safely away, he waited for the effects of the Polyjuice Potion to wear off. After about thirty minutes, his body returned to its normal form.
Calmly, he adjusted his Gryffindor robes and walked back to the tower.
The Gryffindor common room was lively and buzzing with excitement.
Students of all years crowded together, talking loudly.
"Harry, Professor McGonagall came by earlier," Hermione said, exhaling in relief when she saw him. "She took a group of people away for questioning. They're saying someone snuck into the Slytherin common room! I was so worried…"
"How did you get caught?" Ron whispered, astonished. "You used Polyjuice Potion!"
Harry said nothing.
Instead, he gestured for them to follow him to the dormitory.
Neville and the others were still in the common room, animatedly discussing the hero—or rather, the "outlaw"—who had dared to invade the Slytherin stronghold.
Harry locked the door with a Sealing Charm, then turned to the Sorting Hat resting on his bed.
"Well, care to explain yourself, Mr. Hat?" he asked, his tone calm but laced with danger.
The Sorting Hat tipped its brim slightly.
"There's no portrait of Salazar Slytherin," Harry began quietly, a menacing edge to his voice. "Who could've guessed that one of Hogwarts' symbols, a relic of Gryffindor himself, would resort to lying?"
"Harry, I didn't lie!" the Sorting Hat protested, its voice indignant. "There is a portrait of Salazar Slytherin in the Slytherin common room."
"Gryffindor's trials are bound to Hogwarts' castle contract," it continued.
"If that portrait had been removed, destroyed, or deliberately hidden, I would have sensed it. I'm the most important piece of this trial."
It paused for dramatic effect.
"The portrait is right there in the Slytherin common room, plain as day. Every Slytherin student can see it."
Hermione frowned.
She quickly deduced how Harry's cover had been blown:
The Slytherins didn't believe there was a portrait of their founder in their common room. Harry's claim, under the guise of a Snape errand, had instantly raised suspicion.
But if the Sorting Hat was so adamant…
The contradiction was glaring.
Harry pressed his wand against the hat.
"You've been around for over a thousand years. If I had to choose between believing you or the collective intelligence of Slytherins, I'd say you're the one with the problem."
"I do not!" the Sorting Hat growled, its brim trembling with frustration. "I'm one with Hogwarts. As long as this castle stands, I cannot be damaged."
It straightened proudly.
"I swear on Gryffindor's name, and on Hogwarts itself: the trial is intact."
Then, with a mischievous chuckle, it added, "This isn't Dumbledore's little prank from last year.
Over a thousand years, many have tried—brilliant, ambitious wizards who, like you, wielded Gryffindor's sword. They all failed."
"To be Gryffindor's successor, you must surpass Gryffindor himself, my dear Harry."
Harry's face was unreadable.
"So every Slytherin can see it, but none of them recognize it as Slytherin's portrait.
Does being in Slytherin mean having a rock for a brain?"
The Sorting Hat wiggled in annoyance and fell silent.
"Looks like we're heading back to the library," Harry muttered, lowering his wand. "Time to dig up more information about Slytherin.
And while we're at it, we should check on Gryffindor. Maybe he had a midlife crisis like Dumbledore and let someone dump rubbish in his brain."
Ron's brain stalled at the bizarre exchange.
He was still puzzling over the Sorting Hat's cryptic remarks about seeing something yet not seeing it.
The dormitory door swung open.
Standing outside were Seamus and Neville.
"See, I told you Granger was here too," Seamus teased, waggling his eyebrows at Neville, whose face turned bright red.
"Wait!" Seamus suddenly noticed Ron trailing behind Harry. "Ron? What're you doing in there?"
Ron gestured at his bed.
"This… is my dormitory."
"Anyway," Harry interrupted, "what's going on?"
"We're here to fetch you for a celebration," Seamus explained. "Apparently someone—rumored to be a Gryffindor—broke into the Slytherin common room. The twins brought a bunch of drinks."
"There's also cake!" Neville added. "And a whole roasted lamb. I don't know how they got it."
McGonagall had hauled nearly every sixth- and seventh-year student in for questioning, along with a few standout fifth-years.
Snape had nearly resorted to Veritaserum.
The humiliation of having someone infiltrate his house's common room—and then escape—was nearly unbearable.
The Lions didn't care who had done it.
To them, it was cause for celebration.
Harry wasn't in the mood to drink. After getting a few people tipsy, he called it a night, watching as the twins transformed Percy's arms into swan wings and coaxed him into dancing.
By the weekend, Harry, Hermione, and Ron had buried themselves in the library, researching Salazar Slytherin.
"Parseltongue?" Harry froze as he read the first line of a book. "Talking to snakes is a rare ability?"
"Of course!" Ron nodded. "Not everyone can do it. Only Slytherin's descendants…"
"I can."
Harry's tone was heavy.
Both Hermione and Ron stared at him.
"I've always been able to talk to snakes," Harry admitted.
Among Witchers, his ability had earned him the nickname "Snake-Talker," and many had mistakenly thought he was from the Viper School.
"Could I be Slytherin's descendant?" Harry wondered aloud.
He doubted it. The Potter family tree had no connections to Slytherin.
Was it because of the fragment of Voldemort's soul in his scar?
The thought left him uneasy.
Ron laughed nervously, but his grin faded as realization dawned.
"Harry, that's not funny…"
"I'm not the Sorting Hat," Harry replied grimly. "I'm not joking."
Ron's expression twisted.
"Oh… no…"
"Did Slytherin have an Animagus form?" Harry asked, flipping through pages faster.
Hermione began combing through books as well.
Over an hour later, Hermione shook her head. "Nothing."
Ron, however, found something peculiar.
"There's a rumor that the giant squid in the Black Lake… might be Gryffindor."
"That's absurd,"
Hermione dismissed.
"No wizard has lived for a thousand years."
Harry closed his book and posed a question:
"If Slytherin had an Animagus form, what do you think it would be?"
"A snake!"
Hermione and Ron answered in unison, without hesitation.
Hermione's eyes widened as realization struck.
"Are you saying…"
"That the so-called portrait in the Slytherin common room isn't a painting of him, but of his Animagus form?"
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Powerstones?
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