Chapter 89: Library Clues
Professor McGonagall's restrictions changed the rhythm of the castle by breakfast. Students left their common rooms in groups, prefects checked arrival at lessons, and several staircases near unused corridors were closed. The rules annoyed everyone. They also meant that Edward could not turn his curiosity into another midnight expedition without deliberately breaking an order.
That was probably useful.
He went to the library after classes instead.
Madam Pince had already placed several books about dangerous magical creatures on a reserved table for staff use. Edward asked before touching any of them. She allowed him two general references and refused access to a damaged seventeenth-century bestiary until a professor approved it.
"If the pages crumble because you are impatient," she said, "the monster will not repair them."
Edward accepted the point.
The useful material was thin. Basilisks were real, not merely nursery horrors, but reliable accounts agreed on only a few details. They were serpents bred through Dark magic, their venom was exceptionally dangerous, and direct eye contact was fatal. Older sources disagreed about size, lifespan, and whether any surviving wizard had observed one closely enough to justify the measurements being copied from book to book.
Nothing explained Mrs. Norris by itself.
Edward wrote two columns on parchment. Known: the cat was alive, rigid, found beneath a message about the Chamber. Unknown: attacker, method, route, reason she survived, whether the message and injury had the same author.
A third column was for hypotheses.
Hermione sat at the far end of the same table.
She had apparently reached the library before him and built a small fortress from creature guides, Hogwarts histories, and notes. For the first hour they ignored each other with impressive dedication. When Edward returned one volume, Hermione reached for it before his hand had left the shelf.
"You finished with that?"
"For now."
She opened immediately to the section on serpents. Edward returned to his seat.
The arrangement repeated the next day. Hermione worked from school history and legends. Edward compared magical injuries. Their notes approached the same question from different sides. Neither offered the other anything.
On the third afternoon, Madam Pince grew tired of watching them request the same books separately.
"Share the table or leave," she said. "I am not walking this aisle twice because Gryffindor and Slytherin have discovered parallel reading."
Hermione looked at Edward.
Edward moved his parchment to the center.
"My reliable sources say direct Basilisk sight kills," he said. "Mrs. Norris survived."
"Mine say the Chamber's monster was supposed to purge students Slytherin considered unworthy," Hermione replied. "That does not prove the monster was a Basilisk."
"Agreed."
She blinked, perhaps disappointed that the first exchange had not become an argument.
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They compared notes. Hermione had found references to roosters being dangerous to Basilisks and to spiders fleeing them, though the sources varied in quality. Edward had found several accounts where reflected or obstructed magical effects produced injuries different from direct exposure. None specifically described a Basilisk victim surviving through a reflection, so he marked the idea as possible rather than established.
"The attack location matters," Hermione said. "Mrs. Norris was found in a corridor, not a hidden chamber. A large creature would need a route."
Edward thought of maintenance passages, old ducts, enchanted spaces, and the castle's habit of being larger inside than its walls suggested. "We should ask a professor what routes staff consider plausible."
"We?"
"You are already going to keep investigating. I would rather the question reach an adult before either of us decides to crawl into a wall."
Hermione colored slightly. "I was not planning to crawl into a wall."
"Good. Then the rule costs you nothing."
She made a small annoyed sound and wrote it down.
Their cooperation remained narrow. Hermione did not trust Edward's friends, and Edward had not forgotten how quickly she judged Slytherin as a group when Draco gave her reason. But the notes improved when another person challenged them.
That evening, Draco found Edward in the common room with the shared list of facts copied onto fresh parchment.
"You worked with Granger?"
"We read books at the same table. Hogwarts survives."
Draco dropped into the chair opposite him. "I have something more useful."
He produced a list of names: Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Daphne Greengrass.
Edward recognized the purpose immediately. Draco had continued evaluating possible members for their planned group.
"Theodore keeps his head when everyone else panics," Draco said. "Blaise notices things. Pansy got the younger students organized after curfew. Daphne has been keeping first-years from taking empty corridors."
Those observations were reasonable. The conclusion Draco wanted to draw from them was less so.
"You called them useful," Edward said.
"They are."
"That cannot be the only standard."
Draco frowned. "We need competent people."
"We also need people who can disagree with us and leave if they decide the group is wrong. Otherwise we are not choosing allies. We are collecting tools."
Draco leaned back. "You have been reading with Granger too long."
Edward ignored that. "Ask them whether they want to discuss the idea. Do not tell them they were selected because we judged them better than everyone else."
"But we did."
"Then our method needs correction."
Pansy, sitting near the fire, looked over. "You do realize people can hear you deciding whether people are people?"
Edward felt heat rise into his face.
"Apparently not quickly enough."
She came closer and took Draco's list without asking. "You wrote that I am good at calming frightened first-years. True. You also wrote 'loyal when given direction.' That sounds like a dog."
Draco reached for the parchment. Pansy moved it out of range.
Edward almost laughed, then noticed how neatly the phrase matched his own earlier notes.
"Cross it out," he said.
Pansy handed him the quill instead. "You cross it out."
He did.
The conversation became less comfortable and more useful. Theodore joined long enough to say he would attend one meeting but promised nothing. Daphne wanted to know who could end the group if it became dangerous. Blaise asked whether membership required agreeing with Edward about politics. Pansy wanted a rule against using private family information as leverage.
Draco had expected enthusiasm. Edward had expected to screen candidates.
Instead, the candidates began screening the plan.
By curfew, Edward had more revisions than commitments.
He returned the list to his trunk beside the library notes. The two sets of parchment now taught similar lessons. A hypothesis was not a conclusion because it looked elegant. A person was not an ally because Edward had found desirable traits.
Both required evidence. Both required room to be wrong.
The next day, Pansy returned the crossed-out list with a second sheet attached. She had written questions instead of judgments. What does the group expect from a member? What can a member refuse? Who handles a complaint against Edward or Draco? What happens when family interests conflict?
Draco read the page twice. "This is becoming paperwork."
"That may be a sign we are finally discussing a real organization," Theodore said.
Edward placed the questions with the draft charter. He still wanted capable people. Pretending otherwise would be dishonest. The correction was that ability did not purchase obedience, and friendship did not erase the right to object.
That evening, he copied the same principle into his Chamber notes in different words: a useful clue did not earn permission to ignore conflicting evidence.
The comparison was almost embarrassingly obvious once he saw it.
The next morning, a scream from the corridor outside the Great Hall made every careful distinction suddenly urgent.