Chapter 159: Unexpected Gains
The little wizards tilted their heads back, staring blankly at the coiled giant snake. This once extremely dangerous magical creature was now completely asleep.
Melvin took out the emerald from the box. The gem had a tiny hole, almost indistinguishable to the naked eye, but the moment it approached the basilisk, a vast spatial power enveloped the snake’s body. A suction force appeared out of nowhere and swallowed the basilisk. The mountain-like giant snake shrank rapidly and was soon drawn into the snake’s den gem.
“Professor, where are we hiding the gem? Inside the Slytherin statue?” Hermione watched the professor’s actions.
“By reason, I shouldn’t tell you, but the Chamber of Secrets will be sealed soon.” Melvin smiled. “The original spot isn’t safe. Hide it somewhere else, more concealed.”
He manipulated the emerald to rise into the air, ascending into the floating cloudy vapor and embedding into the ceiling. The emerald’s luster blended into the green cloudy vapor, like a star hidden in the clouds, faintly visible, if anything.
Hermione noticed that position was very special, exactly in the direction the Slytherin statue was gazing, as if the stone statue was guiding the snake’s den gem.
“Only the four of us know the basilisk’s location. Remember to keep it secret.” Melvin said with a smile.
Harry looked at that faintly visible green light, still somewhat dazed. Such a powerful basilisk had fallen into a deep sleep with just one sentence, without any struggle or delay.
“Let’s go. The adventure is over.”
Melvin patted Harry’s shoulder, picked up his fedora, and led the way outside.
The three students hurried after the professor. Before the stone door closed, they all turned back simultaneously, glancing at the dim Chamber of Secrets. They suddenly realized this room wasn’t as eerie as they’d imagined. The green light wasn’t eerie at all; instead, it had an indescribable solemnity.
Melvin led the little wizards out through the pipes, leaving the girls’ bathroom and ascending the staircase.
The Christmas banquet had ended late, and delaying another hour in the Chamber of Secrets made it early morning. The corridors and staircases were silent. The portraits in the frames slept with their eyes closed, always reminding them of the basilisk.
“Professor, why wouldn’t the basilisk wait until tomorrow to sleep?” Harry instinctively lowered his voice. “It hadn’t even eaten its fill…”
“It’s complicated to explain. Slytherin once left such a command, and it’s also the current headmaster’s will. If the basilisk is to remain at the school, it must obey that will.”
Melvin gently shook his fedora, interrupting the young snake’s movements inside. Yurm wriggled around, constantly trying to poke its head out from the hat, treating it like a game and fussing nonstop. The fedora even felt heavier.
He had to crumple the brim together, sealing the exit, to make Yurm settle down for a bit.
“Is it waiting for Slytherin?” Harry asked.
“Whatever it’s waiting for, it probably won’t arrive forever.”
“…”
Harry opened his mouth, suddenly feeling a bit sad.
Hermione silently watched the professor’s back, pondering what answer Harry had gotten from the basilisk and what role the professor had played in the whole affair.
Only Ron looked sorrowful, worrying about his rat Scabbers.
They parted at the staircase entrance. The students continued upstairs, while Melvin headed to his office.
“Oh right, the Chamber entrance will be modified tomorrow. Don’t come here again.” Melvin remembered and turned back to remind them.
“Got it. Good night, Professor.”
“…”
The office was quiet. Several letters had appeared on the desk—replies about Christmas gifts. Wright and the others were nearby, receiving gifts and greeting cards in the morning and replies that evening.
Lately, Wright had been getting impatient. The upgrades in Romania were complete, but small projection mirror sales weren’t high. They could only show outdated Quidditch matches. Britain hadn’t rolled out yet, and without Melvin’s arrangements and plans, the wait was agonizing.
So he often wrote urging letters, inquiring about progress on promoting the small projection mirrors.
Melvin knew Wright had ideas for animal world content. He wanted to promote it soon too, but Britain was the wizarding world’s center. Things were different here from Romania; they had to take it slow.
Wright’s letter was nagging. Old Tom and Old Will were also urging new programs. Even some audience members wrote in, disappointed there were no films during the Christmas holiday. The tavern owners and audience felt let down.
He didn’t reply immediately. He went through the letters one by one, sorted them, and stored some separately in his space pocket.
The communication book had a message from Kristin:
「Merry Christmas.」
The magic communication book wasn’t as convenient as phones or email—no timestamp. He didn’t know when this blessing was sent.
Melvin looked at the portrait on the communication book and the simple message below. After a brief pause, he replied with the same blessing.
After waiting a moment, no reply came, as expected. Romania and Hogsmeade had a time difference. It was 1 a.m. here—3 a.m. there.
At that moment, the fedora on the desk started moving.
“Hiss…” Yurm’s voice came from inside.
The young snake’s little head poked out from the folded hat, staring straight at the young professor and flicking its tongue at him.
Even without understanding Parseltongue, Melvin knew it was complaining. He poked its head and comforted it: “We were busy with serious business in the Chamber earlier. No time to play.”
The young snake tilted its head slightly, dodging his finger, wagged its tail, pushed aside the fedora’s brim, and revealed what was inside—
A rat!
Honestly, this rat was really ugly—stiff all over, aged, bald in patches, with dry, hardened rat skin. Scabbers’ limbs were frozen in a terrified fleeing pose, missing a toe on one leg.
If not for the faint residual warmth, it would seem like a dead rat.
Looking at the rat’s rigid body, Melvin could imagine its actions then: clinging to Ron’s wizard robe pocket, trying to escape alone, only to meet the basilisk’s gaze and instantly petrify.
It must have fallen out of Ron’s pocket while moving the injured later, undiscovered until Yurm found it today.
“You stayed in the hat the whole time. How did you find it?” Melvin asked, surprised.
“Hiss…”
Yurm raised its neck, its movements carrying a hint of pride.
…
The next morning.
Melvin pushed open the Hospital Wing door and glanced at the medicine cabinet area—no sign of Madam Pomfrey. He raised his voice slightly: “Madam Pomfrey, are you there?”
“Turn right in the corridor, first consulting room.” A woman’s voice came from nearby.
Melvin followed the voice, pushed open the door to a simple, clean consulting room. Wall-side storage cabinets held large and small bottles of potions, bandages, gauze, and oddly shaped medical apparatus.
A cauldron stood in the room’s center, brown-green liquid bubbling inside. The rising steam carried a muddy, herbal scent.
“Professor Levent, what do you need?” The school healer Madam Pomfrey controlled the cauldron’s heat while applying medicine to a patient in the room. “If you’re not in a hurry, come back later.”
The patient was Moaning Myrtle, petrified by the basilisk’s gaze. Ghosts couldn’t be treated conventionally due to their transparent, ethereal bodies, and the evaporated potion vapor absorbed slowly. The petrification hadn’t lifted yet.
“Do you have any extra Mandrake restorative potion? I’d like a bottle for backup.” Melvin asked straightforwardly.
“Third shelf in the storage cabinet. Help yourself.” Madam Pomfrey didn’t look back.
This batch of Mandrake was procured by Professor Levent anyway. Him taking a bottle was fine—it wasn’t a controlled substance, non-toxic. He could even spread it on bread like jam without worry.
“Thank you very much, Madam!”
Melvin left the healer in a good mood.
He hadn’t asked for the potion to spread on bread slices, but to treat the rat Scabbers—poor little Peter Pettigrew. Petrified and left in the Chamber of Secrets with the basilisk, he must have been terrified. Without Yurm finding him, he’d likely become an ordinary skeleton on the Chamber floor.
The young professor had saved the poor rat. Once healed, doing something in repayment seemed only right, didn’t it?
…
The cooling potion dripped into the rat’s eyes, making them spin wildly.
Melvin and Yurm watched the toe-less rat on the desk. The shrunken, stiff rat skin relaxed; the dry, wilted fur softened a bit. Its chest rose and fell slightly as its heart pumped blood through its body. The petrified rat gradually came back to life.
Scabbers opened its eyes to see Yurm’s snake face, jolting its rat body in fright, squeaking in terror and trying to flee.
Melvin pinned its tail, leaving it to flail its claws futilely in place. The panicked rat turned to bite the finger, only to get smacked on the head by Yurm’s tail, blacking out its vision and leaving it dizzy.
Unfed for days while petrified, weakened, and tossed about like this, Peter was exhausted body and soul, collapsing on the desk, twitching like a normal rat in fear.
But the rat’s eyes darted around, realizing this snake wasn’t the basilisk, and the wizard applying medicine was the school’s young professor.
“Don’t be afraid. Eat something.” Melvin said with a faint smile, pushing over a cream cake.
Scabbers smelled the sweet cream, its nose twitching. It glanced at the young professor, then the young snake beside him, but couldn’t resist the temptation and pounced on the cake, devouring it.
This professor seems friendly…
A thought flashed in Peter’s mind. Living long-term in Ron’s pocket in the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory and Weasley home, he’d heard others mention Professor Levent many times—a kind-hearted foreign wizard.
“No rush. There’s plenty more cake.”
Melvin said softly, “Poor little Pettigrew, you must be starving.”
“Squeak…”
Scabbers squeaked habitually in response—a pet habit from over a decade—but then froze, realizing, and turned back with terrified eyes.
He knows my real name!?
Overwhelming panic surged. Ignoring the cake in its mouth, the rat bolted, scrambling toward the wall-side bookshelf.
Peter clung to a sliver of hope: leveraging Animagus size advantage, he might hide in some nook or cranny, wait out the crisis, and escape.
But that hope shattered quickly.
Two faint whooshes sounded by its ears.
Two spells hit the rat in succession: the first, a Repelling Charm with mild but irresistible force, slamming it onto the chair opposite the desk; the second, a Revealing Charm, abruptly ending over a decade as an Animagus and stripping away the rat disguise.
Yurm poked its head out, eyeing this short, scrawny middle-aged man—graying hair, messy and sparse; small rat-like eyes flashing with fear; a cowardly expression.
Ragged clothes, sickly pale skin, slightly hunched body, as if trying to curl up and avoid their gaze.
“Melvin Levent, professor at Hogwarts. Pleased to meet you…” Melvin gave a polite greeting, pushing the unfinished cake toward him and adding a cup of pumpkin juice. “Little Pettigrew Peter.”
The young professor openly named him, filling Peter with extreme dread:
“You… you… I…”
His voice was shrill, stammering incomplete words.
“Don’t worry. This is Hogwarts. It’s safe here.” Melvin comforted softly, showing friendliness.
Aside from the two escape attempts—getting tail-smacked by the snake and hit by the disguise-revealing spells—everything else was indeed friendly. The sweet cream cake and steaming pumpkin juice proved it.
Peter’s terror eased slightly: “You… how did you…”
“How did I discover your disguise?”
Melvin took the words, patiently explaining, “The reason is special and can’t be revealed for now. You can think of it as me being very familiar with Animagi—I can see the true face beneath the rat skin.”
“You know my identity?”
“Well… let’s say I saw it in the newspaper.”
“…”
The young professor’s kindness made Peter face reality, gradually lowering his guard. His small rat-like eyes darted, showing cunning.
Per the newspapers, little Pettigrew Peter was a total good guy—actively fought Death Eaters during the war, died pursuing Death Eater Sirius Black, posthumously awarded Order of Merlin, Second Class.
Such a professor would probably wonder why he disguised as the Weasley family’s pet.
As long as he bluffed it off, no danger.
Peter thought silently, sipped pumpkin juice, and said in his shrill voice: “Yes, the newspaper. I hid because of those reports. After the Dark Lord fell, many Death Eaters were still active. I caused Death Eater Black’s capture, making me their enemy. To evade pursuit, I disguised as a rat.”
Peter thought this explanation perfect.
Only four knew the truth back then. Voldemort wouldn’t tell; James and Lily were dead; as for that fool Sirius, he was probably in Azkaban, nearly soulless from Dementors.
“Actually, I don’t care why you hid.” Melvin said leisurely. “I just want to do business with you.”
“What?” Peter was stunned.
