Harry Potter with Technology System

Ch297- Stupid Mistake

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Harry’s mind raced, sifting through the connections. A part of him registered the room’s ancient aura pressing down, as if the Chamber itself was watching his every move, testing him. But he wasn’t about to let a few stones and symbols intimidate him. He’d gotten this far, and he wasn’t going to back down now.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he caught a break. One of the streams isolated a set of runes near the entrance, etched faintly into the stone and barely visible. It was a binding charm, a sort of magical seal woven into the Chamber’s walls. The spell was complex, its layers stacked like a tower. He let out a low breath. This was no ordinary enchantment.

As he continued, a pattern emerged. The symbols weren’t just forming words; they were crafting a message only a Parselmouth could understand. The sequence played out like a puzzle, challenging him to find the right combination to unlock its secrets. He adjusted his mental streams, honing in on the exact configuration needed.

Harry smirked to himself. Slytherin, as expected, was paranoid enough to weave riddles into his own creations. But this wasn’t just a riddle—it was a test of intent, one that guarded the Chamber’s innermost secrets. The old man had hidden more here than anyone had ever guessed. He pushed through the strain, riding the momentum as he worked through the remaining runes.

He isolated key phrases, piecing together the meanings like fragments of a broken mirror. The runes spoke of a hidden passage, something even deeper than the Chamber itself. He scanned the room for the path the runes hinted at, a faint pattern just barely visible along the floor’s edge.

Once he pinpointed it, Harry shifted out of the Virtual Room, blinking against the sudden rush of the Chamber around him. His body ached, his head pounding, but he didn’t slow down. He crouched next to the marked edge, running his fingers over the stone, feeling for any slight difference in texture. His touch revealed a subtle groove, barely there, but enough for him to trace out an outline with his wand.

“Open,” he hissed in Parseltongue, directing his intent at the hidden groove.

The stone shuddered, then ground open, revealing a narrow, spiraling staircase descending further into the depths of Hogwarts. He felt the heavy pulse of ancient magic rising from below, a dense energy that seemed to recognize him, almost as if it were welcoming him back.

Harry was elated, but he couldn’t even celebrate. Suddenly, blood started to pour from his nose, ears, and eyes, as if his brain was trying to push its way out. The pain was brutal, and his head throbbed like it was caught in a vice. He couldn’t think straight. His vision blurred, and he barely managed to rasp out,"Bas—" his voice a mere croak. “Drop me near… medi—” The world around him swayed, spinning out of control, and then darkness claimed him, and he collapsed onto the cold stone floor.

Before he passed out, Harry managed to confirm two things: first, the chamber wasn’t ordinary—it would only open for Heirs, not just any Parselmouth. Second, he’d found the true Slytherin’s secret. If he could make it down those stairs, he’d claim his full heritage and complete the system quest. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was the hulking shape of Basi, who was looking between him and the hole in the ground.

"Finally, Heir… no, Master," Basi hissed softly.

The giant serpent then dipped his head and carefully lifted Harry, positioning him with a gentleness that seemed at odds with his massive size. With Harry balanced on his head, Basi began the slow, steady journey out of the Chamber, slithering up toward the infirmary.

Moving quietly through the hidden passageways, Basi carried Harry with an uncharacteristic reverence. The castle around them was silent. Only the faint sound of scales sliding across stone broke the silence, as Basi made his way up toward the hospital wing.

Once there, he stopped at a hidden entrance near the medical wing and gently lowered Harry onto the ground, his massive head nudging the boy forward until he lay comfortably on the stone floor. Satisfied, Basi backed away and disappeared into the shadows, slipping silently back into the depths of the castle. With Harry safely delivered, he would rest until called upon again.

Inside the wing, the quiet buzz of healing magic hummed softly in the air. Harry lay still, breathing shallow but steady, while Madame Pomfrey bustled in and out, checking his vitals and casting spells to hasten his recovery. 

She worked quickly, wrapping bandages around Harry's head, her movements brisk and efficient. Madame Pomfrey muttered to herself, clearly irritated. "I knew you would show up eventually soon enough, Mr. Potter, but this?” she huffed. Her hands didn’t stop. Despite being unconscious, Harry shivered, as if her frustration reached him even in his state.

The hospital wing doors creaked open, and in walked Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall. Madame Pomfrey shot them a look that was half-irritated, half-accusatory, but she didn’t kick them out. She kept working, tying off the last of the bandages, barely glancing up.

“Headmaster,” she said tightly, her gaze flicking toward the Headmaster. “He’s taken quite the hit. I’ve no idea how he even got here. Though, with Mr. Potter, I suppose I should’ve expected this.”

Dumbledore, his face calm but clearly interested, took a step closer. “How is he?”

“Unconscious,” she replied bluntly. “Exhausted. His mind was overloaded—no idea how. It’s like someone crammed piles of information into his brain, burning out his nerves with overwork. But he’ll live—lucky for him.” She shook her head, muttering to herself as she checked Harry's pulse.

Dumbledore, looking at Harry with a touch of concern, nodded thoughtfully. “Do you think he’ll be up anytime soon, Poppy?”

“Give him a day or two,” Madame Pomfrey answered, busy rearranging her tools. “He’s put himself through a ridiculous amount of strain. Should be able to walk out of here, though, as soon as he wakes up.”

McGonagall, arms crossed tightly, shot a glance at Snape, then back to Dumbledore. “Headmaster, this isn’t normal. Even for Mr. Potter.” She lowered her voice slightly, her expression stern. “Should we be concerned?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed as he considered Harry, though his face gave nothing away. “Potter never does things halfway. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s tangled himself in something far beyond his years—again,” he murmured, his tone clipped.

Dumbledore’s gaze remained on Harry, thoughtful as ever. “Indeed, Severus. I suspect there’s more to this than meets the eye.” He turned to Madame Pomfrey. “Poppy, if anything changes, please let me know immediately.”

Pomfrey waved a hand dismissively, already turning her attention to the next patient. “Of course, Headmaster. But he’ll be just fine, so long as he doesn’t try anything reckless for a while.”

With that, Dumbledore motioned for the other two professors to follow him out of the infirmary. As they reached the corridor, McGonagall stopped, glancing back towards Harry.

“Headmaster, what could he have been doing that caused this?” she asked, a bit more urgently now. “I fear this won’t be the last time we see him in this state.”

“Minerva, whatever Potter was up to, it’s clear he’s capable of more than we know,” Dumbledore said softly. “It’s likely his natural abilities and some unique methods of study.” He paused, then added, “We’ll keep a closer eye on him, for his own sake.”

Snape let out a small, barely perceptible sigh. “The boy is meddlesome, yes, but intelligent. Let’s not overlook the fact that he manages to get into situations that would confound others his age.”

McGonagall nodded, the worry in her eyes only partially hidden. “Very well, Albus. I just hope we’re not encouraging him to take more risks.”

“Rest assured, Minerva,” Dumbledore replied, “we’ll keep him on the right path.”

As they disappeared down the hallway, Madame Pomfrey returned to Harry’s bedside, setting up a few additional potions on the table beside him. She muttered as she worked, mixing the antidotes with practiced efficiency. “One of these days, Mr. Potter, you’ll push too far,” she said quietly, shaking her head again.

Back in the bed, Harry stirred slightly, a faint frown crossing his face even as he slept.

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