Harry Potter and the Dovahkiin

Ron tugged off the Invisibility Cloak, looking pale. Hermione looked grim. Harry's jaw was tight.

Ben blinked slowly. "Forgot this was a group project."

He hadn't needed to look—Dumbledore had left a parting glance aimed right at the seemingly empty corner. Not exactly subtle, but subtlety's overrated when you're the world's most powerful wizard and pushing a billion years old.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed. "Two Ravenclaw girls are missing."

Ben stilled. He already had a sinking feeling which two.

Ron rubbed his face. "We thought you might know something. Like—where the Chamber is."

Ben didn't answer right away. He wasn't supposed to know that.

Hermione hesitated. "We were hoping you could help us figure it out. We think it might be connected to the attack fifty years ago."

"And Hagrid said something about following spiders," Harry added. Ron visibly shuddered.

Ben raised an eyebrow and stretched where he lay on the bed. "Brilliant. Let's get moving already."

"Where? I'm not following no spiders," Ron said, voice trembling.

"Relax, Ronald. You think I wanna go knocking on Aragog's nest after slaughtering half his children?" Ben muttered, throwing off the blankets. "Come on."

Ron blinked. "What—?"

Ben was already moving. "You wanted to find the Chamber, yeah? Let's go."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a quick look before scrambling after him.

Harry fell into step beside him. "You know where it is?"

"Why didn't you tell anyone before?" said Hermione.

Ben didn't look at them. "I only just got told myself, Hermione."

"By who?"

"Dream Ben, obviously." He paused, just long enough to pretend it didn't hurt. "He's more helpful than the real one."

Ben only got weird looks and silence for that one, but he didn't mind. The sooner this was over, the better.

The four of them moved quickly through the empty halls, beneath the cloak, careful to keep their voices down. Ron still looked uneasy, but his feet followed anyway.

They turned the corner—and nearly tripped over Professor Lockhart, who was dragging a trunk twice his size, frantically stuffing wigs into it.

The professor yelped and dropped the suitcase on his foot, sending framed photographs scattering across the floor.

"Who's there?! Show yourselves! I— I'm armed!"

Ben pulled off the cloak.

"Professor Lockhart?" Hermione blinked.

Lockhart jumped, nearly falling over. "Ah—Miss Granger! Boys!—what an unexpected pleasure!"

He straightened his hair with trembling hands, glancing nervously behind them.

"Packing up already?" Ben said, picking up a framed photo of Lockhart winking and tossing it aside like trash.

Lockhart cleared his throat, straightening. "Well, it is traditional for professors to—er—see to their own safety first. Wouldn't want anyone else to get hurt while I'm in the crossfire, eh?"

"You mean run away," said Ron, scowling.

Hermione stepped forward uncertainly. "But sir… you said you'd handled Banshees. Defeated the Wagga Wagga Werewolf. Surely you're not afraid of a Basilisk?"

Lockhart chuckled nervously. "Oh well, Miss Granger, I wouldn't say afraid. Just—cautious! Sensible! The kind of instincts that have kept me alive all these years."

Ben tilted his head. "And the kind of instincts that left all those other people memory-wiped in your wake."

Lockhart's smile slid off like butter in summer. He stared at Ben, blinking too much.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Ben stepped closer. "I've read your books. Compared the stories. Found the holes. All those people conveniently unable to tell their tales? Either they're dead… or they forgot."

Lockhart swallowed. "I—I never—"

"Oh, you did." Ben turned to the others. "He's not a fraud. He's worse. He steals real magic and sells it with a fake smile."

Hermione looked crushed, like someone had hexed the glitter off her favourite book.

Harry stepped in now, eyes hard. "We know about the Chamber. We're going in. And you're coming with us."

Lockhart stared. Then laughed shrilly.

"Surely you jest."

"I'm not joking," Harry said, drawing his wand. "You're the Defence professor. Time to earn the title."

Lockhart looked faint. "But—but I'm terribly unsuited—I'm a celebrity, not a spelunker!"

Ron marched over and started helping himself to Lockhart's wand. "Brilliant. Then you'll fit right in. We've already got someone good at brooding, someone good at worrying, and someone good at lying."

"Hey," Ben said mildly, "I can do all three."

Lockhart looked around in horror as the kids herded him forward. Ben glanced at him sideways.

"I'm sorry, mate. But this… is your call to adventure."

"I—I'm not equipped—"

"Oh, don't worry," Ben said, grabbing Lockhart by the back of his robes and dragging him along like a sack of laundry. "We'll make sure you go in wand first."

They marched him through the corridors. Lockhart tried to stall—babbling about his books, feigning confusion, stopping to ask if he'd left the iron on. Ben kept walking, wand casually drawn.

When they reached the second-floor girls' bathroom, Ron finally said what they were all thinking.

"Er… are we making a stop? You need the loo or something?" he asked uncertainly.

Ben ignored him and strode straight inside, dragging Lockhart. The others followed with varying degrees of hesitation.

Moaning Myrtle moaned from her stall. "Oh, brilliant. More visitors. Don't mind me. Just floating here in eternal torment."

The place smelled as unpleasant as ever. Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"This place?" she said. "The entrance was here all along?"

Ben gave her a look. "Honestly, did none of you ever question why this place is always flooded?"

"I thought Myrtle just cried a lot," Ron mumbled.

Moaning Myrtle floated out of a cubicle and frowned. "Oh, it's you. Hoping to out-mope me this time?"

"Sorry, not in the mood," Ben said. "Got any snakes lying around?"

Myrtle huffed. "Rude! And yes. Over there, that tap never worked. I always thought it was just plumbing, but then I died, so…"

The trio moved in closer. Hermione gasped, tracing her fingers over the tiny carved serpent at the base of the tap.

"Blimey," Ron breathed. "It's been here all along?"

Ben just leaned against the sinks, arms folded, looking at Harry.

"Say something snakey."

Harry stepped forward and took a breath.

"You alright?" Hermione whispered.

He nodded. "Yeah. Just… gimme a second."

He leaned in close to the tap. Concentrated. Then hissed a word in Parseltongue.

The moment the sound left his mouth, the sink rumbled. The tap slid aside, and the basin sank into the floor, revealing a wide, dark pipe.

They all stared.

"Oh my God…" Hermione gasped.

"Wow," Ron said faintly. "This is it, then?"

"No," Ben said dryly. "This is the girls' bathroom. Chamber's two floors down."

"Not how I imagined a legendary entrance," Ron muttered. "Where's the red carpet?"

"Right there," Ben said, and shoved Lockhart in.

Lockhart flailed with a startled "Wha—!" before vanishing down the slide, his voice fading fast.

There was a thunk. Then silence.

Ron blinked. "Did you just—"

"Yep," Ben said. "Next?"

Harry gave a low whistle. "You don't mess around."

"I mess around plenty," Ben muttered, climbing into the pipe. "Just not with cowards."

Harry followed next, then Ron. Hermione lingered a moment, biting her lip.

"You sure about this?" she asked the empty bathroom.

Myrtle floated closer. "You'll probably all die. But if you see Olive Hornby, tell her I said hello."

Hermione gave her a look, then climbed in.

-To be Continued..

Supporting me on P!treon doesn't just help me write—it protects innocent side characters from spontaneous villainy. Every time you pledge, one Lockhart gets gently punted into irrelevance. Save a life. /DreamyApe