Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

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That early morning encounter with Harry left Cassandra feeling unsettled. Her sixth sense warned her that the meeting wasn't a simple coincidence. For some time now, she had felt as though someone was watching her, but no matter what methods she tried, she couldn't detect the source of the gaze.

Even back in her dormitory, after drawing her bed curtains shut and wrapping herself in blankets, that subtle feeling of being watched persisted.

Cassandra was an exceptionally sensitive person. This sensitivity wasn't just due to her mysterious sixth sense but also to the instinct she inherited from serpents—creatures that prefer lurking in the shadows, readying for a lethal strike.

To describe her merely as human was incomplete. For Nagini, who wore the name Cassandra as a disguise, the time she had spent as a serpent far exceeded the time she had spent as a human.

As evening fell and young witches and wizards idled in the common room after dinner, Cassandra grew increasingly annoyed by those who tried to strike up a conversation with her. Her aloof demeanor wasn't a mask—she genuinely never spared those irritating flies a glance.

Quietly, she slipped out of the Slytherin common room. Her footsteps were so light that even Mrs. Norris, the half-Kneazle cat, would struggle to hear her as she passed through the corridors. But it wasn't yet time for Hogwarts' curfew, so Filch and his unlikable cat were likely still holed up in their office.

Upon reaching the familiar third-floor corridor, Cassandra gripped the heavy MR73 revolver concealed beneath her sleeve. She stopped at the corner of the hallway, separated by a wall from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Slowly, she raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

There was no incantation, no burst of magic or flash of light—just a faint, nearly imperceptible click. This level of silent spellcasting exceeded that of a sixth-year student. Even Harry, at his current level, had yet to master it. Achieving silent casting required a deep familiarity with spells.

But Cassandra did it with ease. It was one of the reasons she had left the Duelling Club this year. She hadn't joined out of a love for dueling but to receive guidance from Professor Flitwick and reclaim the "feeling" she once had.

This body still felt somewhat unfamiliar, and the memories in her mind were faint and fragmented. Yet, despite forgetting much about her past, she knew one thing: she had once been a witch. Magic was not foreign to her. All she needed was to follow that innate feeling, and she could achieve what others saw as astonishing progress.

This feeling extended beyond spellcasting. Even during her first visit to Hogwarts, she had a strange sense of familiarity—as though she had been here before, yet everything was still unfamiliar.

As the silent spell spread, disturbing noises erupted from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom: an irritated woman's voice, shrieks, and the sound of water spraying violently as though in the midst of a tantrum.

Less than thirty seconds later, a pearly-white, semi-transparent figure passed through the wall before vanishing without a trace. Cassandra knew that Myrtle wouldn't be back until midnight. The Ghost-Banishment Charm forced ghosts to relive their most painful memories, which were usually far from pleasant and rarely left them in a good mood.

In his quest for immortality, Tom Riddle had conducted extensive research on ghosts. Though becoming a ghost after death was a miserable fate, if it brought him even one step closer to eternal life, he was willing to invest his time and effort. Surviving for ten years as a frail spirit owed much to this very research.

Cassandra pushed open the bathroom door, which bore a "Under Repair" sign, creating just enough space to slip through. Her long, slender legs passed easily, though she had to widen the gap slightly for her chest to fit through.

But Cassandra didn't find this bothersome. It was part of what made her proud—another piece of that "past self" she sought to reclaim. Though her memories remained hazy, she felt that this was how she was meant to be. Even now, she believed she had not yet reached her full potential. She would become even better.

The empty bathroom floor was soaked in water, a result of Myrtle's earlier tantrum. Ghosts were peculiar beings. Though they couldn't interact directly with physical objects, they always found indirect ways to make their presence felt. After all, ghosts were formed from souls and magic. Every ghost had once been a witch, wizard, or a creature with a certain level of magic. When they died, their strong attachments kept them from passing into the afterlife, leaving them trapped—pathetically lingering between life and death with no place to go.

Cassandra approached the sink and stopped in front of a tap that didn't work. Hidden in its design was an intricately carved snake. She bent forward slightly, parting her lips to utter a chilling hiss.

It was Parseltongue. Yet, when she spoke it, there wasn't the slightest hint of unfamiliarity. The words flowed as fluently as a native language.

Moments later, the sink began to transform. Hundreds of years ago, Hogwarts had constructed bathrooms on every floor for the convenience of students and staff, laying out an extensive network of pipes. Back then, the Gaunt family—Salazar Slytherin's descendants—had not yet fallen into complete madness. Some among them were still capable and talented wizards.

They ensured that the entrance to Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets remained hidden during the construction of the massive plumbing system. Someone had intervened in the project, relocating the entrance to this spot and concealing it behind a seemingly ordinary sink.

The ancient sewer pipes, long unused, did not appear particularly dirty. However, since parts of the pipes connected to other drainage systems, a faintly unpleasant odor lingered. It was subtle—only someone with a nose as keen as a dog's would notice it.

Cassandra stuck out her tongue—a little longer and more agile than the average person's. It quivered slightly, though her non-forked tongue lacked the ability to taste scents. Despite being human once again, some instinctive behaviors from her time as a serpent were etched deep into her soul.

She glanced into the abyss of the dark pipe. Before leaping down, she pulled the trigger once more, and a bubble-like charm enveloped her body. Cassandra possessed a commendable trait: she listened to advice. If she ran into Harry again, he wouldn't have the chance to complain about her smelling strange.

Once her figure disappeared into the tunnel, the sink above returned to its original form. The descent lasted several minutes. Even the sudden sensation of weightlessness did not cause Cassandra the slightest panic. She landed lightly, crushing the brittle bones of creatures that had long since perished in the sewers.

Ahead, not far from her, lay a massive shed snakeskin. Even after fifty years, the basilisk's cast-off skin remained perfectly preserved, free of rot or damage.

The sound of Parseltongue echoed once more. The sealed stone door groaned open, revealing a vast, empty chamber. At the far end stood the colossal statue of Salazar Slytherin. He was not a handsome wizard—his wrinkled, sagging face made him look more like an ancient monkey.

None of this distracted Cassandra. Her eyes were fixed on the enormous creature curled up in the middle of the chamber. A basilisk nearly fifty meters long lay coiled upon itself, its massive head resting weakly on the ground. Its yellow eyes were half-open, faintly glowing with a strange light.

The deathly gaze that could kill instantly wasn't avoided. The girl, clad in Hogwarts robes, calmly met the giant basilisk's eyes. Step by step, she advanced, while the mighty serpent shrank back, unable to flee from the seemingly frail girl before it.

Its massive body was pinned to the ground. Silver spikes, sharp and unyielding, pierced its thick scales and anchored it to the stone floor. Fresh blood trickled from the wounds, tracing intricate crimson magical runes across the floor like a macabre carpet.

Cassandra drew closer, tilting her head upward to gaze at the serpent. Two pairs of yellow, serpent-like eyes—one large, one small—met in a silent exchange.

A strange, haunting melody of hisses began to echo through the chamber. The sound was unsettling yet tender, like a lullaby gently coaxing the massive serpent to relax.

One pair of yellow eyes would close forever tonight, while another pair, fully awakened, would blaze with a cold, deadly light.

(End of Chapter)