[31] What Lurks Beneath

The stench hit them again before they could answer. Ron and Harry clamped their hands over their mouths and noses, voices muffled.

"So those snake tracks were Helena's?" Ron's reaction was unusually sharp.

"Should we hand them over to the Headmaster?" Harry frowned.

Hall held up the Philosopher's Stone. "This is stolen goods. It doesn't count. Pay again. It has to be yours or your master's."

Helena's mouth opened wide, her forked tongue flicking near Hall's cheek.

"Helena says Hogwarts Castle belongs to her master, so everything inside belongs to him too," Harry translated.

"Right now you're relying on me to find your master. I set the price, not you."

Helena went pitiful. She shrank back into herself, coiling slowly into a tiny snake no bigger than a chopstick. She curled up on her master's pillow, looking thoroughly pathetic.

"We could tell Dumbledore," Ron said. "He'd help find her master."

Helena's emerald eyes brightened at that. She lifted her head.

"Do you think anyone would want to find someone from a thousand years ago? Especially someone like Salazar Slytherin?"

Ron wanted to argue, but he knew the truth. Not everyone would welcome Slytherin back.

Helena seemed to understand. Her eyes dimmed.

"Henry..." Harry's voice softened. He could hear her calling her master's name again and again, voice threaded with longing.

Hall walked around the pile of junk on the floor, went to the bedside, lifted Helena, and pulled up the pillow.

Underneath — a fortune in gems. Neatly arranged. More than a dozen.

He lifted the sheet too. A carpet of them. Dazzling. Hall closed his eyes against the brilliance; the entire room seemed to glow.

He'd guessed there was something hidden, but this was ridiculous.

He loved it.

The gems were large, vibrant, substantial. Holding one, he could feel the magic pulsing in it. These weren't jewelry stones. They were tied to the magic circle on the floor.

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Hall weighed the stone in his hand, then tossed Helena toward Ron and Harry.

Her scream was piercing. Hall ignored it and stuffed the entire bed — hundreds of gems — into his storage bag.

"Henry, Henry, she says she's going to get angry..." Harry covered his ears. Her screams were deadly.

Hall patted his pocket. "Don't worry. I'll find your owner. Small fee, big result."

The screams stopped. Soft, aggrieved sobs replaced them.

Hall pulled out two identical gems — the smallest ones — and reluctantly handed them over.

They looked at him, puzzled.

"Hush money."

Ron grabbed his eagerly. Hall's going to love this.

Harry pushed the gem back. "I can't help Helena."

"You translate for me. That's your payment."

"I refuse."

Harry wouldn't take it. Hall shrugged. Fine. Harry didn't like gems. He'd pick something else.

Hall thought it over. Harry was wealthy — he had a vault at Gringotts. Big one. Held money and whatever else you wanted to store.

The Weasleys had a vault too. An inherited one. About the size of a person, on the top floor. Annual premium: one bronze Knut.

Problem was, the Weasleys spent everything they had. Arthur's father was lucky, always winning contests, but the money went as fast as it came.

The Weasley vault was always pitifully empty.

A small, round figure surfaced in Hall's mind. Peter Pettigrew.

Right. He'd need a different test subject.

Since Harry didn't want gems, Hall would give him something he couldn't refuse. A family. A family that loved him.

Before they could dwell on it, Hall set to work scrubbing the magic circle and gathering their belongings.

Before leaving, Hall scrubbed the magic circle and collected Helena. She kept trying to cling to Ron, which was odd.

"Taking a snake back to Gryffindor? The whole house would assassinate me," Ron said.

Hall wrapped Helena around his own arm. "Helena is a secret. If anyone finds out, she'll be executed."

They both nodded, reaching out to touch her, promising to keep quiet. Helena clung to Hall's arm shyly, squeezing until his wrist turned red.

He flicked her. She let go.

"You should write home," Hall told Ron. "Ask if there's any record of a marriage between the Weasleys and Slytherins."

Ron's face went green.

He made Harry and Hall promise not to tell anyone he might be a Slytherin descendant. "Otherwise I'd get transferred."

Hall filed that away. He and Ron were twins. Why did Ron's blood open the door and his didn't?

He couldn't exactly use the Disguise Mage to change his blood.

Not that Hall doubted he was adopted. His face was nearly identical to Ron's.

Helena had said the door required concentration on the destination. Hall went first, imagined the sink in Myrtle's bathroom, and pulled.

The door clicked open. A slide led straight down to the open pipe.

Harry Summoned a broom and they flew up, the door shutting behind them.

Hall's mind was spinning. The Chamber of Secrets' surprises were bigger than the Philosopher's Stone. This — a door that could go anywhere — this changed everything.

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