"Harry Potter- Ravenclaw"Chapter 192: The Heir Revealed
Just as Fred and George claimed, they really did know the Hufflepuffs inside and out.
A few chocolate balls later, both Hannah and Neville had found their rhythm—at least far better than when they'd started, just about managing to meet Fred and George's expectations.
After finishing another crate of Coolic, the group settled around the table in a circle. One sip, and a rosy flush crept up their cheeks.
"I want to introduce this…" Hannah shook her Coolic bottle, "to my great-great-uncle. I think he'd like it."
"Great-great-uncle?" Fred asked, intrigued.
Hannah nodded. "Yes… Have you ever thought about selling Coolic outside of school?"
"Selling it outside?" Fred and George's eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Do you have connections? Could you help us get the word out—" Fred started.
"—so we can rake in more Galleons!" George finished, grinning.
"Absolutely! I can vouch for it with Hufflepuff integrity!" Hannah's cheeks turned bright red. "If we sell it at the Leaky Cauldron, it'll be a hit!"
"The Leaky Cauldron?" Wyzett mused. "Wait… you mean Mr. Tom?"
"Old Tom? Seriously?" Fred's eyes widened. "That hair…"
George eyed Hannah's thick blonde locks. "If you hadn't told us, who'd have guessed?"
Wyzett nodded in silent surprise. The regulars at the Leaky Cauldron always called the owner "Tom" or "Old Tom"—who could have imagined he was Hannah's great-great-uncle?
George's curiosity was ablaze. "What about you, Neville? Any legendary relatives in your family?"
Fred jumped in, "Or maybe some secret identity? Like Wyzett here—probably the youngest Potioneer in all of England!"
Hannah looked astonished. "Wyzett, you're already a Potioneer? I thought—"
"How else could we make Coolic?" George replied with a mischievous burp. "It's all perfectly legal, according to the Ministry of Magic…"
Neville scratched his head, a hint of pride flickering on his face. "My mum and dad! They're both Aurors—brave ones."
Fred let out a low whistle. "Wicked! Aurors! That's top-tier wizard stuff!"
"Aurors… Longbottom… Longbottom…" George rubbed his chin. "Neville, are your parents Frank Longbottom and Alice Longbottom?"
"Dad's mentioned them before!" Fred piped up. "Didn't they get hurt badly? Are they all right now?"
A shadow of pain crossed Neville's eyes, but he forced a smile. "They're doing fine."
Just then, Wyzett felt a sudden twinge of magic. He quickly pulled out his notebook and found the bookmark tucked inside. A single, urgent line had appeared:
[Come to the Chamber entrance.]
It was a message from Dumbledore. The "Heir" wasn't about to give up so easily—another attack had triggered the magical alarm set in the abandoned bathroom.
At last—it was coming to an end!
A flicker of anticipation stirred in Wyzett's chest: the Petrification Commandment, the final step of his Animagus transformation, a trip to the Forbidden Forest with Luna…
So many plans, all put on hold by the shadowy "Heir."
As he stood, Luna rose as well.
He mouthed, "It's safe. Headmaster Dumbledore and the others are there."
Luna nodded, curled her pinky, and waved it at Wyzett.
He smiled, hooked her pinky with his own, and mouthed back, "Don't worry! I'll be back soon!"
Luna mouthed, "Madam Pomfrey told me to keep an eye on you!"
"Got it!" he mouthed. "I promise I won't end up in the hospital wing… at least, not me."
Luna nodded earnestly, fist clenched in a silent gesture of encouragement.
…
Watching Wyzett go, Fred protested, "Could you two please talk out loud? You're killing me here—what did you say?"
George chimed in, "I think I need some of Snape's remedies—maybe a bit of dragonscale, or honeysuckle… Hannah, Neville, want any?"
"Why would we eat that?" Neville scratched his head. "Dragonscale… is that for fevers? Can you catch a cold from drinking Coolic?"
Luna couldn't help but laugh, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.
Fred gave Neville a look. "That sounds awfully familiar… Are you taking lessons from Wyzett?"
Neville nodded, honest as ever. "He told me to understand other magic through Herbology."
"So I've memorized loads of things. It actually helps—I learn faster than before… except in Potions."
Hannah agreed, "I feel the same way…"
Wyzett slipped out of the corridor and hurried toward the abandoned bathroom.
A tabby cat appeared at his side, quickly shifting into Professor McGonagall.
They moved swiftly through the halls, Filch's gruff voice echoing nearby: "What are you lot doing here? Let's see… which rule have you broken now?"
Panicked shouts from students rang out: "Filch is coming! Run!"
Clearly, Dumbledore had orchestrated this—using Filch to clear the way and keep curious students away.
The path was clear. They soon reached the abandoned bathroom, where Dumbledore stood waiting by the sinks.
Floating before him was a notebook, its shape traced in shimmering golden powder—a tracking spell revealing its presence.
"Albus, are you sure we should bring Wyzett?" Professor McGonagall asked, worry in her voice. "The Basilisk is far too dangerous for a student!"
Dumbledore waved his wand, dissolving the golden powder. "Minerva, you remember last year, before Christmas—the Transfiguration spell?"
McGonagall leaned in, "You mean he can transform into Devil's Snare and use its senses?"
"Yes, Professor." Wyzett nodded. "I won't face the Basilisk's stare directly… and I have my reasons for needing to find it."
"We can add extra protection… perhaps a pair of spectacles?" Dumbledore conjured a pair of half-moon glasses. "That should make things even safer."
Wyzett put on the glasses, but something felt odd. He touched the lenses with his finger.
"Lenses made of flowing water…" His finger passed right through the seemingly solid glass. "Headmaster, I understand!"
"The water flowing out of here… Mrs. Norris saw the Basilisk's reflection in the water—that's why she was petrified…"
"See?" Dumbledore turned to McGonagall. "With these glasses, there's no need for a coffin—just a dose of Mandrake Restorative Draught."
Wyzett approached the sinks, quickly finding the tap marked with a snake. He hissed, "Open!"
The sinks vanished, replaced by the gaping mouth of a massive pipe…
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