World Hopping With Gacha

The Ministry's incompetence always astounds me, but if there's one thing they do well, it's panicking under public scrutiny. The moment Rita's article hit the shelves and fingers started pointing their way, they scrambled into action like their lives depended on it. While we were fast asleep in our dorms, the Ministry had swooped in, arrested Lockhart, and even managed to conduct a trial overnight. Efficient, for once.

I wouldn't have known about any of this if not for my avian spy network. The Ministry Owl that dropped off the Daily Prophet carried the details of Lockhart's trial, and oh, it was juicy. Fraud, identity theft, and magical assault charges, all neatly listed. Looks like the Ministry finally decided to do its job, and Rita Skeeter's spicy exposé ensured that everyone would be talking about it for weeks.

With Lockhart gone, the Defense Against the Dark Arts position fell to a temporary tag team of Professor Flitwick and Snape. Flitwick's classes were incredible—he brought a duelist's flair to the subject, making every spell feel practical and precise. Snape, on the other hand, used the opportunity to sharpen his tongue further. Poor Harry now had to endure Snape's acidic remarks in both Potions and DADA. If I didn't know better, I'd think the man was trying to set a record for Most Creative Insults Directed at a Gryffindor.

Despite all this, life at Hogwarts carried on. The end of October was fast approaching, and with it, the Halloween feast—an event everyone except Harry seemed to be looking forward to. The date held too much sorrow for him, marking the anniversary of his parents' deaths.

Seeing Harry moping around the common room tugged at something I didn't know I had—a sense of empathy. It was then that I decided to give him the Dream Catcher pendant I'd won in the Gacha. I wasn't sure if it was the best time or the worst time, but if it could bring him some comfort, it was worth the gamble.

"Harry," I said, pulling him aside before he could disappear into the dorms. "I have something for you."

He looked at me, puzzled. "What is it?"

I held out the octagonal pendant. "This is a Dream Catcher. It's… well, it's enchanted. It allows you to talk to people who've passed away—through your memories of them, at least. It's not really them, but it might feel close enough."

Harry stared at the pendant like it was a lifeline. His hands trembled slightly as he took it from me. "You mean… I could talk to my mum and dad?"

"Yeah," I said softly. "It's not perfect, but it's something."

His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he whispered, "Thank you, Arthur."

I gave him a small smile. "You deserve it, Harry. Just… don't lose it, okay? And don't go telling everyone about it. The last thing we need is Filch trying to confiscate it."

Harry let out a watery chuckle, and for the first time in days, he didn't look quite so burdened.

After leaving Harry to explore the pendant's magic, I made my way to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast. The decorations were as grand as ever—enchanted pumpkins floated overhead, casting a warm, flickering light, while bats swooped around the ceiling. The food, of course, was a mixture of Halloween sweetness.

But my mind wasn't entirely on the festivities. I knew what was coming. The first attack.

True to the timeline, the feast was interrupted by a scream that echoed through the halls. The hall fell silent, every head turning toward the source of the noise. Dumbledore was already on his feet, his face grave as he motioned for the Prefects to escort the younger students back to their common rooms.

Curiosity got the better of me, so I slipped away from the Gryffindor crowd, blending into the shadows as I made my way toward the commotion. When I arrived, I found Filch kneeling on the floor, wailing over his cat. Mrs. Norris was petrified, stiff as a board, hanging from a torch bracket.

On the wall behind her, scrawled in what looked like blood, were the words:

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware."

The sight was both surreal and unnerving. The Basilisk had struck, just as I'd anticipated, but seeing the evidence with my own eyes was a stark reminder that this wasn't just a story anymore.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape arrived shortly after, their expressions a mix of concern and suspicion. Harry, Ron, and Hermione weren't far behind, their faces pale as they took in the scene.

"What happened here?" Dumbledore asked, his voice calm but firm.

Filch was inconsolable, muttering about how someone had done this to his precious cat. And Harry being the closest to the cat became the supposed culprit.

"This is clearly Dark Magic," he exclaimed. "And it occurred on a night when this boy was conveniently absent from the feast. Surely he is the one who has done this to her..."

Harry stammered, clearly caught off guard, but before things could escalate, Dumbledore intervened. "Enough. This is not the time for accusations."

The Headmaster examined Mrs. Norris carefully before announcing, "She is not dead, merely petrified. A Mandrake Restorative Draught will revive her in time."

The teachers quickly cleared the area, leaving behind a sense of unease that lingered long after the feast resumed.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, I found Harry sitting by the fire, the Dream Catcher pendant clenched tightly in his hand. He looked up as I approached.

"Do you think it's true?" he asked quietly. "The Chamber of Secrets?"

I hesitated. "I think… there's always some truth to legends, Harry. But don't worry. We'll figure it out."

---Note

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