Harry and Ron's attention snapped over instantly.
"I've never left anything behind with him," Cohen said, flipping open the book Dumbledore had handed him before leaving.
It was empty inside—a box disguised as a book.
"I knew it!" Harry said, thrilled.
Inside were four pairs of glasses. The extra pair was probably meant for Hermione.
Cohen recognized the alchemical runes on them at a glance. Dumbledore hadn't made glasses for the basilisk—he'd made them for the people who'd face it. Maybe this was an upgrade after realizing Cohen had an innocent "basilisk relative" hiding in the Chamber too. Otherwise, he could've just had Fawkes peck out the original basilisk's eyes and called it a day.
"What are these for?" Ron asked, picking up a pair. "Only Harry needs glasses."
"Forgetting already?" Cohen said. "A basilisk's stare kills anything alive. These glasses reflect the death gaze."
"This one's probably Harry's—it's got a prescription…" Ron tried on a pair but quickly took them off and handed them to Harry.
The other three pairs had no prescription, just plain lenses. Harry's, though, matched his nearsightedness perfectly. Cohen didn't buy for a second that Dumbledore hadn't snuck into the boys' dormitory to figure that out.
"There's a note too!" Harry pointed at a folded piece of parchment at the bottom of the box.
It was written in Dumbledore's signature loopy, swirling handwriting.
[The bathroom has the most pipes.]
"Seriously, a riddle at a time like this? Hagrid-Dumbledore, you absolute legend…" Cohen clicked his tongue.
"What's that supposed to mean? Do we check every bathroom?" Harry asked, confused.
"If only Hermione were here…" Ron said for the second time, sounding a little lost. That's what happens when you lose your external brain.
"Running around aimlessly isn't gonna work," Cohen said, steering them. "So, isn't there an obvious bathroom—one where someone died—that we should check out first?"
"Is there a bathroom like that… wait—" Harry's eyes lit up. "Moaning Myrtle!"
"Dumbledore told me Voldemort opened the Chamber when he was a student," Cohen said. "Myrtle probably died back then. She's wearing a school uniform, not some medieval ghost getup."
The Gryffindor point-deducting squad was ready to roll.
Under Harry's Invisibility Cloak, the three of them slipped back into the school.
"Myrtle!"
The second they stepped into the bathroom, Harry shouted her name.
"Oh, it's you lot…" Myrtle floated up from a toilet. "I heard the students got taken out of the castle. Some girl ended up in a mess like mine, but I haven't seen her come back here. I wouldn't mind sharing my toilet with her, though…"
"Because Hermione's not dead yet," Harry said urgently. "Myrtle, do you remember how you died?"
Myrtle's mood flipped from mopey to giddy in an instant.
"Ooh, you want to hear about that?"
She launched into her story with relish. "I was just hanging out in this stall—it's my spot, even Peeves can't take it from me. Back then, Olive Hornby was mocking me, saying my glasses made me look like a four-eyed dog…"
"I was crying in there when I heard someone come in. They were talking to someone else, but it sounded like a totally different language. I couldn't understand a word."
"Parseltongue…" Harry's heart was pounding.
Cohen, meanwhile, was plotting his pose for later—nothing too pathetic, but dramatic enough to convince Voldemort he'd tried his best.
"But then I realized it was a boy's voice, so I opened the door to shoo him out," Myrtle said. "And then…"
She puffed out her chest like it was some grand achievement.
"I died."
"How'd you die?" Harry asked.
"No clue," Myrtle said. "All I saw was a pair of huge, creepy yellow eyes…"
"Where?" Cohen asked.
"Right there." Myrtle pointed at the sink.
Cohen had opened it once before, so finding it was a breeze.
A tap with a little snake carved into it.
"Just say something in Parseltongue, right?" Cohen said.
"Open?" Harry tried, but it didn't work. The carved snake wasn't real—he could only talk to actual snakes passively.
"That's English. I understood it," Ron said, shaking his head.
"Hiss… (Open)…"
Cohen let out a raspy, low hiss from his throat.
A flash of white light later, the sink slid away, revealing a massive pipe underneath.
"I'm going down to find Hermione," Ron said, clenching his fists.
"Me too," Harry added.
"Then what are you standing around for? Waiting for someone to cast a Feather Fall spell on you?"
Cohen shoved them both in and jumped down after them.
"AAAAAHHHH!!!"
The sudden weightlessness sent Harry and Ron's screams echoing through the pipe. It felt like the whole of Hogwarts could hear them.
After what seemed like forever, they slid to a stop at the bottom of the main pipe.
"Don't do that out of nowhere next time…" Harry grumbled, rubbing his backside as he got up from the stone floor.
"Free rollercoaster ride—pretty decent, right?" Cohen said. "Just a bit messy."
Last time, Cohen had flown in, so he'd avoided the grime. This time, his clothes were caked in sewer sludge. It'd take eight Scouring Charms to make them wearable again.
"Put on the glasses," Ron said. "It's so dark down here…"
All three slipped on the glasses Dumbledore had given them. Harry swapped out his usual pair. If Dumbledore hadn't made him a special prescription set, he'd have to stack two pairs—talk about looking ridiculous.
"Lumos."
Cohen took the lead, wand raised, lighting the way.
The last time he'd been here, the basilisk hadn't shed yet, so the middle corridor felt empty.
Not this time. There were two shed skins now.
"Two snakes down here?!" Ron whispered, alarmed.
"It's shed skin," Harry said, inspecting the pair of shiny green husks. "They're different sizes—probably from different ages…"
"Or two different snakes," Cohen said. "There's only two here, which means basilisk skin rots. And these both look fresh."
They navigated twist after twist through the underground tunnels until they reached the Chamber's entrance.
*The latest novels are first released on 69 Book Bar!*
Two stone snakes coiled across the wall, waiting for Parseltongue to unlock it.
"Hiss… (Open)…"
This time, Harry and Cohen said it together.
The door swung open, revealing a brightly lit chamber with a massive old man's statue at the far end.
A Slytherin student stood in front of it, looking nervous—
"Theodore Nott?" Harry said, shocked.
Hermione and Lockhart were lying nearby.
"I-I'm sorry…" Theodore stammered, his face pale. "I… I didn't want to kill anyone…"
"You're the one helping You-Know-Who?" Ron snapped.
"He threatened me…" Theodore's voice shook, all traces of his old smugness—back when he'd mocked the Weasleys—gone. "He said if I didn't do what he wanted, it wouldn't just be me who'd die… my family too…"
"It's okay. He's not here now. We'll get out together," Harry said cautiously, inching toward Hermione.
"There's no time…" Theodore swallowed hard. "He's here… and so's that snake…"
"What—"
"Hiss… (Kill Harry Potter!)"
Voldemort's face emerged from the Slytherin statue—he'd latched onto the stone, hissing orders at the basilisk.
*Crash!*
A giant snake head burst out of a pool nearby.
Theodore squeezed his eyes shut and crouched, hugging his head like he was trying to turn into a rock.
"Ron, Cohen, grab Hermione and run! I'll hold it off!" Harry shouted.
Voldemort only wanted Harry—that much clicked for him all of a sudden.
The basilisk had only heard the command to "kill Harry Potter."
Voldemort let out a cold laugh. "Touching. Just like what your dad said before he died… So, how'll you handle a basilisk? With your courage? Or that little stick in your hand?"
"You'll never win," Harry growled.
Ron had already hoisted Hermione onto his back—but Lockhart was left where he lay.
"I'll get Hermione out and come back to help—hold on!" Ron called, torn between rushing off and staying.
That left Lockhart, and Cohen was the only one with free hands.
"No way. I'm not carrying him," Cohen said flat-out. "I'd rather fight the basilisk with Harry than lug him around—"
"I'll back you up!"
Cohen raised his wand and swung into action alongside Harry.
Voldemort wasn't fazed—he knew Cohen was his inside guy.
Harry was touched—he knew Cohen was his loyal friend.
The old basilisk stayed calm too—its brother's kid wouldn't turn on it.
Dumbledore and Fawkes, who'd just appeared unnoticed in a corner, were pleased. They saw Cohen stepping up, risking his life for his friends—a true hero… or, well, a true Dementor.
Cohen looked like he was charging in hot-headed, but he was cool as ice. He'd already spotted Sisoko's soul lurking in the pool beside him.
Which meant…
"Stupef—"
Cohen's spell cut off mid-word.
*Splash!*
Another basilisk erupted from the pool, stunning everyone.
It opened its massive jaws and swallowed Cohen whole in one gulp.
"COHEN!!!" Harry's eyes went wide.
"Bloody hell…"
Ron, who'd just turned back, froze mid-step, forgetting to keep running with Hermione. His eyes nearly popped out of his head.
*Huh?*
Even Voldemort paused.
What's with the second one?
(End of Chapter)