Morning light streamed through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, catching on silverware and goblets as students shuffled in for breakfast, their faces still creased with sleep, their voices rising in a gradual swell of chatter and laughter. Chris entered through the massive oak doors, his step light despite the previous night's exertions.
The hall proceeded with its usual morning symphony: the clinking of utensils against plates, first-years giggling over spilled pumpkin juice, bleary-eyed fifth-years comparing hastily finished homework. A group of Ravenclaws huddled at their table, heads bent over a copy of the Daily Prophet, while at the Slytherin table, a heated debate about Quidditch tactics threatened to escalate into a food fight. Normal. Utterly, blissfully normal. None of them had the slightest inkling that the very foundation of Hogwarts had shifted beneath their feet overnight.
Chris claimed his usual spot at the Hufflepuff table, his movements deliberately casual as he reached for a piece of toast. His eyes, however, made a careful sweep of the staff table. McGonagall sat primly buttering a scone, Flitwick chatted animatedly with Professor Sprout, and Snape's chair... was empty. But it was the central, ornate golden chair that drew Chris's attention. Also empty. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen.
"Morning!" Susan's cheerful voice broke into his observation as she dropped onto the bench across from him, her hair still damp from the shower. "You're up early. Couldn't sleep?"
Hannah joined them a moment later, stifling a yawn. "Did I miss anything interesting? Any more pixie invasions or fraud professors being arrested?"
"Just the usual Monday morning chaos," Chris replied with an easy smile, passing the marmalade toward Hannah without being asked. "Though our esteemed Headmaster seems to be running late."
Susan glanced toward the staff table, then shrugged. "Probably got lost in one of his own speeches about the delightful peculiarities of woolen socks. Pass the eggs, would you?"
As his friends fell into a comfortable discussion about their upcoming Herbology lesson, Chris allowed his hand to drift casually beneath the table. With a subtle gesture hidden by the tablecloth, he activated the silver bracelet on his wrist. The HUD display flickered to life, its blue glow invisible to anyone but him, projecting a miniature map of Hogwarts against his palm.
He focused his thoughts, directing the magical interface to locate specific dots of interest. Almost immediately, two names appeared in the Headmaster's office: Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. Unlike the leisurely breakfast meetings Chris had occasionally observed over the past months, these dots were not stationary. Dumbledore's marker paced frantically back and forth across the circular office, while Snape's remained mostly still, occasionally shifting position as though following the Headmaster's movement.
A crisis meeting. One that had pulled both men away from breakfast, that required absolute privacy. Chris could almost picture it: Dumbledore's usual composed demeanour shattered, perhaps even his hands trembling slightly as he described the inexplicable severing of his binding spells. Snape's dark eyes narrowing with suspicion, his mind already cataloguing potential culprits. And, of course, the most devastating revelation, the Elder Wand, gone. The most powerful magical artifact in Britain, perhaps the world, vanished from the Headmaster's possession.
The thought sent a pleasant tingle down Chris's spine. He deactivated the HUD with another subtle gesture, then reached for his pumpkin juice, taking a slow, deliberate sip. The sweetness tasted particularly good this morning.
"Chris? Hello? Earth to Chris?" Hannah waved a hand in front of his face. "You've been staring at that same piece of toast for nearly a minute."
"Sorry," he replied, refocusing on his friends. "Just thinking about that Charms essay due Wednesday."
Susan rolled her eyes. "Only you would be worrying about homework during breakfast. I swear, sometimes I think you've got a bit of Ravenclaw hiding under all that Hufflepuff yellow."
"Speaking of Ravenclaws," Hannah said, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "did you hear what happened in their common room last night? Apparently, someone enchanted all the furniture to recite bad poetry whenever anyone sat down."
The conversation flowed around him, comfortable and familiar. Chris participated, laughing at the right moments, offering appropriate comments, all while a private thrill continued to pulse beneath his calm exterior. No one knew. No one had the slightest idea that the greatest wizard of the age had been outmaneuvered by a second-year student, that the castle itself had been liberated from magical bondage, that ancient secrets were now within his grasp.
Halfway through breakfast, Professor McGonagall rose from her seat and made a brief announcement about the Headmaster being called away on urgent business with the Ministry. The students received this news with minimal interest, far more concerned with their immediate concerns of classes and social dynamics than the whereabouts of Dumbledore.
Chris spread jam on another piece of toast, his movements unhurried. He knew the truth, of course. There was no Ministry business. Dumbledore was frantically trying to understand what had happened, testing the castle's responses, attempting to reconnect to systems that would never again answer to his will alone. And somewhere, deep within the stones of Hogwarts, Cassie was revelling in her newfound freedom, restoring protections that had lain dormant for decades.
As students began to gather their bags for the day's first classes, Chris allowed himself a small, private smile. The chess board had been reset overnight, and Dumbledore didn't even know who his opponent was.
The ancient scroll's riddle tumbled through Chris's mind all day, its fiery words interrupting his focus during Charms and rendering Professor Binns's droning lecture on goblin rebellions even more irrelevant than usual. The phrases "sun beneath the crest" and "burning heart" circled like persistent whispers, tantalizing him with their hidden meaning. By the time the final bell rang, releasing students from their academic obligations, Chris had already mapped out his research strategy and was heading toward the library with single-minded purpose.
The library welcomed him with its familiar scent of aged parchment and binding glue, the high windows casting long afternoon shadows across rows of towering bookshelves. Madam Pince's eyes tracked him suspiciously as he passed her desk, her face a map of permanent disapproval, but Chris had long since mastered the art of becoming unremarkable in her presence. He moved with quiet efficiency, gathering books on Hogwarts architecture, historical references to Godric Gryffindor, and several dusty tomes on magical heraldry.
At a secluded table partially hidden by the Ancient Runes section, Chris arranged his materials in precise order of potential usefulness. From his bag, he withdrew a small notebook and self-inking quill, then pulled the ancient scroll from its hiding place in an inner pocket. He didn't unfurl it completely, the risk of someone glimpsing its golden threads was too great, but allowed just enough of the parchment to peek out so he could reference the riddle's exact wording.
"In fire and stone where courage sleeps, a lion's secret softly keeps," he murmured, transcribing the words into his notebook. "Seek the sun beneath the crest, where burning heart may pass the test."
The most obvious interpretation centered on Gryffindor's common room, with its stone walls, ever-burning fireplace, and abundant lion imagery. Yet Chris dismissed this immediately. The Founders wouldn't have hidden their most precious secrets in spaces regularly accessed by hundreds of students. The chambers must be elsewhere, protected by more than mere passwords.
He started with "Hogwarts: A History," finding the detailed section on house emblems. The Gryffindor crest had evolved over the centuries, the original design showed a rampant lion on a simple field of red, while the modern version incorporated more elaborate scrollwork and additional elements. Neither version offered any obvious clues about hidden chambers or secret tests.
Hours passed. Chris moved methodically through "Architectural Wonders of Magical Britain," "Godric's Hollow and Beyond: The Life of Gryffindor," and "Symbolism in Wizarding Heraldry." He examined faded blueprints of the castle's original layout, studied paintings of Gryffindor with particular attention to any crests or emblems in the background, and even skimmed through "The Astronomical Significance of Medieval Magical Architecture" in case "the sun" referred to some celestial alignment.
Nothing. Not a single reference to hidden chambers, secret tests, or unusual crests.
The library's lamps had ignited themselves as daylight faded, and his eyes burned from hours of squinting at cramped text and faded illustrations. Frustration prickled along his skin like an ill-cast charm. He'd expected research to yield at least some directional clue, but instead found himself drowning in irrelevant historical minutiae.
Chris closed "Notable Wizarding Architecture Through the Ages" with more force than Madam Pince would have approved, earning a sharp glare from a nearby Ravenclaw. He stared unseeing at the stack of unhelpful books, mentally reviewing the riddle once more.
A new thought surfaced, pulling him from his academic dead end. What if "the crest" wasn't merely a symbol depicted in books or paintings? What if it was a physical object, something tangible hidden somewhere in the castle?
The idea shifted his entire approach. Perhaps no amount of library research would reveal the chamber's location because the clue wasn't documented in any text. It had to be discovered, physically found within Hogwarts itself.
Chris gathered his materials, returning books to their proper places with mechanical precision while his mind raced ahead. The castle contained hundreds of rooms across seven floors, not counting dungeons, towers, and the countless hidden spaces that appeared and disappeared according to Hogwarts' inscrutable whims. A room-by-room search could take months.
He needed a system, a methodical approach that would allow him to cover ground efficiently without alerting others to his search. The upper floors seemed the logical starting point, they contained more unused classrooms and forgotten spaces where ancient artifacts might remain undisturbed. He could work downward, floor by floor, using his free periods and the hours after curfew when his Invisibility Cloak would allow undetected exploration.
That night, after his housemates had fallen asleep, Chris slipped from the Hufflepuff dormitory and began his search. The seventh floor yielded nothing but dusty storage rooms and the already-familiar Room of Requirement. The sixth floor offered a promising lead in the form of a stone lion's head mounted above an abandoned classroom doorway, but closer inspection revealed it was merely decorative, installed during renovations in the 1700s according to the date carved beneath it.
For nearly two weeks, Chris maintained his dual life, attentive student by day, relentless explorer by night. His silver bracelet's mapping function proved invaluable, allowing him to mark areas he'd already searched and identify unexplored territories. The castle seemed to expand before him, revealing corridors he'd never noticed, alcoves hidden behind tapestries, and entire wings that appeared to have been forgotten by the current inhabitants.
The fifth floor contained an old prefects' meeting room with Gryffindor banners still hanging on the walls, but the crests depicted matched the modern design, not the ancient versions that would have existed in the Founders' time. The fourth floor held numerous classrooms dedicated to subjects no longer taught at Hogwarts, Magical Architecture, Alchemical Theory, Runic Integration, but no significant lion imagery or unusual crests.
Sleep became a luxury, snatched in brief intervals between classes or during particularly dull lessons. His friends noticed his exhaustion but attributed it to excessive studying, a reputation he'd carefully cultivated since arriving at Hogwarts. The dark circles under his eyes deepened, but so did his resolve.
What might Godric's Chamber contain? Perhaps weapons enchanted by the Founder himself, or texts documenting magic too powerful or dangerous for the regular curriculum. The possibilities drove him forward despite growing fatigue and the increasing likelihood that he might be searching in entirely the wrong direction.
Each night as he returned to his dormitory, limbs heavy with exhaustion and eyes stinging from peering into dark corners, he reminded himself of the chamber's significance. This wasn't merely academic curiosity, the Founders had created these spaces to preserve their greatest magical accomplishments, knowledge that could dramatically accelerate his own goals. Somewhere in this castle, four chambers waited, each containing secrets untouched for a millennium. He would find them, no matter how long it took.
The abandoned classroom on the third floor had clearly been deserted for decades, perhaps centuries. Dust lay thick as winter frost on every surface, undisturbed by house-elves or human visitors. Cobwebs stretched in elaborate tapestries across the ceiling corners, while the windows were so begrimed with dirt that they allowed only the faintest suggestion of moonlight to filter through. Chris's Lumos spell created a sphere of illumination that pushed back the darkness without banishing it completely, shadows retreating to the edges of the room like wary creatures observing an intruder in their domain.
After nearly two weeks of searching, Chris had developed a routine. Enter a room, cast detection charms for hidden magic, examine the walls and floors for unusual features, check behind paintings and tapestries, then move on. This methodical approach had yielded nothing but dust, abandoned furniture, and the occasional startled mouse. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, and a dull headache had taken up permanent residence behind his temples.
He was about to leave this particular classroom, which appeared to have once hosted Magical Theory lessons, judging by the faded diagrams still visible on the blackboard, when his wandlight caught something unusual on the far wall. At first glance, it appeared to be merely an architectural feature, perhaps decorative stonework typical of the castle's ancient construction. But as Chris moved closer, his pulse quickened.
There, partially concealed behind a tattered tapestry depicting wizards gathering around a cauldron, was a stone carving unlike any he'd seen in his exploration thus far. He carefully moved the ancient fabric aside, releasing a cloud of dust that made him cough and step back momentarily.
When the air cleared, he found himself staring at an ornate stone lion crest set directly into the wall. Unlike the modern Gryffindor emblem that adorned banners throughout the castle, this was something far older, more primal. The lion was carved in high relief, its mane flowing in stylized waves that seemed almost alive in the wandlight's shifting glow. Its eyes were set with small gemstones, rubies, Chris realised, that caught the light with blood-red gleams. Most significantly, the lion was not positioned on a traditional heraldic shield but was surrounded by a circular border carved with symbols that were neither modern runes nor any language Chris recognized.
"The crest," he whispered, excitement sparking through his exhaustion like lightning cutting through storm clouds.
He reached out, his fingers brushing the ancient stone. A slight tingle ran up his arm, static from the dry air, but it jolted him nonetheless. The stone felt warm beneath his touch, warmer than the ambient temperature of the room should have allowed for.
Chris stepped back, examining the crest from different angles. There were no obvious mechanisms, no keyholes or handles, nothing to suggest how it might open or what it might conceal. But he was certain he'd found the first physical element from the riddle.
"In fire and stone where courage sleeps, a lion's secret softly keeps," he recited softly. "This has to be it."
Now he needed to decipher the next part: "Seek the sun beneath the crest, where burning heart may pass the test."
The sun beneath the crest. Chris's eyes moved downward, searching the stonework below the lion carving. There was nothing visible, no sun symbol, no astronomical markings, just ordinary castle wall. Perhaps "beneath" wasn't meant literally but figuratively? Or perhaps something was hidden that would only appear under certain conditions?
"Where burning heart may pass the test," he continued murmuring, tracing the words in his mind. The burning heart must refer to courage, Gryffindor's defining trait. But how did one demonstrate courage to a stone carving?
Chris considered multiple approaches. Should he recite an oath of bravery? Perform some Gryffindor-related ritual? The riddle specifically mentioned "sun" and "burning", both associated with fire and light.
After several minutes of contemplation, he decided on the most straightforward interpretation. Perhaps "burning heart" was literal, perhaps the crest needed fire.
Drawing his wand, Chris took a steadying breath and aimed at the stone lion. "Incendio," he cast, directing a controlled jet of flames at the crest.
The fire struck the ancient stone and dissipated instantly, like water hitting hot metal. The crest remained completely unchanged, not even showing scorch marks where the flames had touched it. The rubies in the lion's eyes seemed to gleam a little brighter for a moment, but that might have been a trick of the wandlight.
Chris frowned, disappointment settling like a weight in his stomach. He tried again, this time with more power behind the spell. "Incendio!" The flames burned hotter, longer, but with the same result, immediate dissipation upon contact with the stone, with no apparent effect.
He lowered his wand, frustration threading through his thoughts. Had he misinterpreted the clue entirely? Was this even the right crest? Or was fire simply not the correct approach?
For nearly an hour, Chris attempted variations. He cast different fire spells, from the gentle, blue-flamed Incendio Duo to the more concentrated Lacarnum Inflamari. He tried directing the fire at different parts of the crest, the lion's mouth, eyes, the strange symbols around the border. He even attempted non-verbal casting, wondering if the test required magical skill beyond the ordinary.
Nothing worked. The stone lion remained impassive, neither acknowledging his efforts nor offering any hint about what he might be doing wrong.
Eventually, exhaustion caught up with him. His magical reserves, depleted by days of exploration and multiple spell attempts, were running dangerously low. The headache behind his temples had intensified to a persistent throb, and his vision had begun to blur slightly at the edges.
"Enough," he muttered, pocketing his wand and stepping back from the crest. He'd found the first physical component of the riddle, that alone was significant progress. The solution to activating it could wait until he'd had some rest and could approach the problem with a fresher perspective.
Chris marked the classroom's location on his mental map, determining to return the following evening with renewed energy and perhaps additional research. He cast one last look at the stone lion, its ruby eyes seeming to watch him as he turned to leave.
The riddle continued to play in his mind as he made his way back toward the Hufflepuff dormitories, steps quiet under a silencing charm, form hidden beneath his Invisibility Cloak. "Seek the sun beneath the crest, where burning heart may pass the test." What was he missing? What form of courage was the crest designed to recognize?
Tomorrow, he promised himself as he slipped into the Hufflepuff common room. Tomorrow he would solve it.