The echo of shuffling footsteps reverberated through the silent, dark, and cold corridors of Hogwarts.
The new caretaker walked with a stiff posture, holding his oil lantern high. The faint amber light flickered across the stone walls as he moved, illuminating the ancient pictures and empty suits of armor. He examined every corner carefully, every crack and every stone, every sleeping portrait with the utmost care and attention; it seed as though he were morizing the very structure of the ancient castle.
After several minutes of silent walking down the third-floor corridor, the light from his lantern illuminated a tall figure coming in the opposite direction.
The person approaching was Professor Minerva McGonagall, who, being in charge of the castle in Headmaster Dumbledore's absence, was conducting her own night patrol to ensure everything was in order that night.
Upon seeing her, the caretaker stopped dead in his tracks. With a strangely chanical movent, he bowed deeply to greet the deputy headmistress.
"Good evening, Professor McGonagall," he greeted her in that raspy, emotionless voice.
Minerva paused, adjusting her tartan shawl over her shoulders.
"Good evening. How's the work going tonight? Any trouble in the hallways tonight?" the professor asked, maintaining her usual tone and cordiality.
The janitor looked up at her. His vacant eyes fixed on her as his thin lips slowly stretched into a smile. It was a gesture so devoid of warmth and so forced that the hairs on the back of Minerva's neck stood on end, and she felt a deep unease churning in her stomach.
"I've been keeping a close eye on everything, Deputy Headmistress," the man assured her, without looking away. "I can report that, for the mont, there have been absolutely no students wandering outside their common rooms. The only ones in the hallways were those invited to Professor Slughorn's dinner, and they have already returned safely to their respective dormitories."
Minerva blinked, looking away slightly from those bottomless eyes. She nodded, trying to shake off the strange chill that had crept over her body.
"I'm glad to hear it. Please continue your excellent work. Have a good night," the Deputy Headmistress said, resuming her walk.
"Good night, Professor," replied the caretaker, giving her another stiff bow before turning on his heel and disappearing into the darkness of the hallway, the flashlight swaying in his hand.
Minerva paused for a mont and let out a long sigh as she watched him pass and walk away. She rubbed her arms through the sleeves of her robes.
She still didn't know why she found that man so deeply unsettling. When Argus Filch was promoted to professor, the caretaker's position beca vacant. And Dumbledore and she had had no choice but to hire that man, simply because, for so strange and inexplicable reason, he had been the only person in all of Great Britain to apply for the job.
Minerva resud her walk toward her private quarters.
"Calm down, Minerva," she chided herself ntally. "As unsettling as he may seem, or as strange as his behavior is, he's doing his job very well. The castle is clean, and there haven't been any incidents."
The professor reminded herself that, as deputy headmistress, she shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Surely the man was just a loner, withdrawn, and a little… different from the others. That was all.
anwhile, deep within the castle, the caretaker descended a sowhat hidden stone staircase until he reached the small room that had been assigned to him, near the boilers.
The room was almost empty, devoid of any personal belongings or decorations, as if no one actually lived there. The man set the lantern on a small wooden table and walked over to the bed.
He slipped a hand under the pillow and pulled out an old leather-bound book, worn by ti and with no title on the cover.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, took a quill from his robe, and, by the light of his lantern, opened the book to a blank page. His hand began to move swiftly across the paper, writing in exquisite calligraphy, jotting down absolutely everything he had discovered about the castle's layout, the security asures, and the routines of the teachers and students that day.
His eyes, which had previously seed so empty and lifeless in front of the deputy headmistress, now shone with a new light in the dimness of the room.
"Today I've discovered several extrely interesting things…" thought the mysterious caretaker, as a huge, misshapen, and terrifying grin slowly spread across his pale face.
Aurelian Gaunt walked through the halls of Hogwarts, moving away from the bustle of the other students. Her destination was on the second floor, specifically the abandoned girls' bathroom. It was her final year at the castle, and there were crucial matters she needed to resolve before her inevitable departure. She needed to know the answer to the proposal she had made to Nythoros several years ago.
As she entered the gloomy bathroom, she heard a muffled sob. Moaning Myrtle was floating above one of the stalls, but the mont her eyes recognized Aurelian's figure, the ghost let out a shriek and, without saying a single word, plunged down the drain of a toilet, leaving Aurelian in complete solitude.
Aurelian walked toward the central sink. Fixing his gaze on the small snake carved into the faucet, he let the ancient magic of his lineage take control.
"Open up," he whispered, the hiss of Parseltongue echoing off the tiles.
The sink glowed faintly and began to sink, giving way to a massive, dark pipe leading to the Chamber of Secrets. Without missing a beat, Aurelian spoke again in the tongue of serpents.
"Stairs."
With a harsh sound of stone scraping against stone, the interior of the pipe transford. The walls reconfigured, and a series of stone steps ford one by one, spiraling downward into the bowels of the earth.
Aurelian slowly descended the stairs until his boots touched the damp floor of the chamber.
He had barely taken a few steps when the sound of sothing slithering echoed through the vastness of the chamber. The basilisk, an imposing beast of monstrous proportions, quickly approached him, stopping right in front of him and lowering its enormous head.
Aurelian smiled at the sight. He raised a hand and began stroking the thick scales beneath the creature's jaw.
"How are you, Nythoros?" Aurelian asked him in Parsel.
"Very well, little talker…" Nythoros replied, his hissing vibrating through Aurelian's body. "I thank you for the abundant food you always send my way. But you haven't co down to see in a long ti."
Aurelian scratched the back of his neck slightly, feeling a twinge of guilt for leaving him alone.
"I've been too busy up there to co down," he apologized.
The basilisk let out a hiss in understanding, closing its yellow eyes to enjoy the caresses.
"If the heir is busy, that ans everything is going more than well in the world above, and that Salazar's blood is shining once again with the glory it deserves," Nythoros hissed proudly. "Tell then, what is the reason for your visit today?"
Aurelian's smile widened with conviction.
"This is my final school year at the castle, Nythoros," he inford him. "I'll be leaving Hogwarts soon. And I was wondering if you already had an answer to my offer."
Nythoros slowly turned his head and opened his eyes—now covered by the mbrane that allowed him to look at Aurelian without killing him—to observe the young man with absolute scrutiny. The beast noticed how the boy's aura, posture, and power had beco overwhelmingly greater compared to that child who had first visited him years ago.
"Do you an for to go with you and abandon the foundations of this castle forever?" asked the basilisk, his deep voice echoing off the walls.
Aurelian nodded firmly.
"Yes. If you accept my offer, of course."
Nythoros closed his eyes for a mont. In the darkness of his mind, mories of his forr master, Salazar Slytherin, began to surface. When he opened his eyes again, he had made a decision.
"If that is what my master's heir desires… then I will do it," Nythoros declared.
A wave of happiness washed over Aurelian. Having a beast of his caliber on his side would be a huge help… besides, he couldn't leave him here alone; he was his friend.
However, the basilisk continued speaking.
"But there is sothing you must know. Salazar was my forr companion, and before he left, he ordered to look after this castle and its beloved students. For to break that ancient order and leave these walls, you, Aurelian Gaunt, must beco my new master."
Aurelian narrowed his eyes, processing the implications of those words.
"Does that an I must make you my familiar?" he asked, knowing that the bond of a creature's familiar was not sothing to be taken lightly.
Nythoros nodded.
"That is correct. We will be bound to one another until one of us perishes."
Aurelian didn't hesitate for a single second.
"How do we do it?"
"Since I have already accepted you as my new master, you only need to fuse your magic directly into my being," explained the Serpent King.
Nythoros lowered his head until it almost touched the ground, offering it in total submission. Aurelian stepped forward and placed both hands firmly on the cold, hard scales of the basilisk's forehead. He closed his eyes and channeled his magic into the creature.
Almost imdiately, Aurelian felt the change. A new connection ignited within his core, binding his soul to the beast's essence. He felt Nythoros's loyalty, strength, and wisdom flowing toward him.
Opening his eyes, which now glowed with an intense green light, Aurelian spoke aloud, letting the Parsel and the magic seal the pact.
"In the na of Magic, I, Aurelian Gaunt, accept you, Nythoros, as my familiar, my friend, and my companion."
The mont the words left his lips, a blinding green light burst forth from the point where his hands touched the scales. The light swirled around them both like a whirlwind, illuminating every dark corner of the Chamber of Secrets.
When the whirlwind subsided and the light faded gently, the connection in Aurelian's chest settled, beating in ti with the basilisk's own.
"It's done," Nythoros hissed, lifting his head. "Now we are bound by magic, Aurelian."
Aurelian looked at him, feeling deep affection and imnse satisfaction toward his new familiar.
"And I assure you that there is not, nor ever will be, a better companion than you, Nythoros," Aurelian told him, smiling from ear to ear.
The enormous basilisk let out the equivalent of a laugh in the language of serpents. For the first ti in nearly a thousand years, the king of serpents was truly happy to finally have a new companion with whom to conquer the world.
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