This was probably the most unforgettable half hour of Ron Weasley's life—during which he watched in stunned silence as a spectacular display of spells unfolded:
Confringo (Blasting Curse), Diffindo (Severing Charm), Descendo (Descending Charm), Reducio (Shrinking Charm), Reducto (Reductor Curse), Reparo (Mending Charm)...
The pile of rubble is gradually decreasing.
"Your little stick is amazing! It can even produce sparks!" Lockhart exclaimed excitedly, whilst also asking with a puzzled look, "Are you magicians with extraordinary powers?"
"Shut up!" Ron said, finally losing his temper.
Lockhart seems to have completely forgotten who he is; he is now as excited and clueless as an annoying baby.
However, Lockhart was right about one thing: Draco—he is indeed highly skilled in magic.
"Are you really a second-year student?" Ron asked incredulously, genuinely admiring the Slytherin boy. "Now I understand why Hermione said you were the most talented wizard of your age. I thought she was exaggerating."
"Did she say that about me?" Draco asked breathlessly, a hint of a smile in his eyes.
He rallied his spirits, cast one last spell, and finally carved out a simple hole in the rubble wall.
"Yeah, except for when she had a fight with you a whilst ago and did not praise you, she always compares you to us in that praising tone, criticising us to the point of being worthless," Ron said resentfully. "What kind of potion did you give her?"
Draco shrugged at him and smiled.
"By the way, how exactly do you know so many spells?" Ron asked, clicking his tongue in amazement. "And how do you use them so skilfully?"
"Read more books, and you will know too. Practise more, and you will be able to use it freely. There is nothing to brag about, so please do not go around telling everyone." Draco said slowly. "I believe any Hogwarts professor could handle this quickly—except Lockhart—compared to that, I am far from it, and I have spent too much time."
He crossed the passage, his body exhausted from casting too many spells.
It is too much of a strain for this young body to cast so many spells.
Draco turned and looked at Ron through the hole. "You have to stay here and watch Lockhart. He is no different from a normal person now, and we cannot let him run around. Who knows what dangers might lurk in there?"
"What are you saying!" Ron said angrily. "My sister Ginny—"
"Where are you going? Can I come with you?" Lockhart asked excitedly as he heard their conversation, standing up abruptly.
Ron glared at Lockhart, exasperated, and snapped, "Draco, please, do you even know any spells that can knock someone out?"
"Get out of the way, Ron." Draco took his wand and, without any politeness, gave Lockhart's innocent, surprised face a "Stupefy."
Lockhart collapsed to the ground and remained motionless.
Draco smiled with satisfaction—he had wanted to do this for a long time.
Even before I saw Hermione's timetable covered in hearts, I—
"Well done!" Ron said gleefully. "They should all see Lockhart looking like an idiot right now!"
Draco quickly shushed Ron. "Do not tell anyone I attacked the professor."
Ron smiled nonchalantly and stepped across the passage.
"Fine. Same here, you are not the first person to raise a wand at him."
Things are often just that interesting.
When two friends who have had a falling out have a common enemy to deal with or a common goal to achieve, they are more likely to smile at each other and let their differences disappear during the process of working together.
Just as the two friends were about to go inside, a melodious and mysterious piece of music drifted in from afar.
Draco looked up and saw a crimson bird fly overhead and disappear into the depths of the Chamber. It clutched a tattered, package-like object in its claws.
"We need to hurry." A hint of anxiety flashed across Draco's face. "If I am not mistaken, this bird is Professor Dumbledore's pet phoenix—I saw it in the Headmaster's office last time. It seems Professor Dumbledore has sent helpers to assist Harry."
"This means—" Ron asked softly.
"This means the situation has become critical, and Harry needs help," Draco said gravely.
They hurried along the passage towards the Chamber, and gradually only their breathing could be heard in the damp and dark passage.
"The phoenix's song is getting fainter and fainter, and the phoenix is flying further and further away," Ron said uneasily.
"This means," Draco said, "that the Chamber is still quite a distance from where we are now."
"Yes," Ron said gravely, quickening his pace.
Draco followed behind Ron, his steps faltering. Draco was already quite tired, but he knew that even more dangerous situations awaited them ahead. He could not afford to be complacent now.
After a whilst, the phoenix's voice completely disappeared.
Their steps became increasingly hurried and disorderly.
They turned one bend after another, seemingly without ever finding an end.
"Tell me, so much time has passed, can Harry still hold on?" Ron asked breathlessly, his voice filled with worry.
"I do not know. That Basilisk is not easy to deal with. I cannot think of any way to deal with it," Draco said wearily. "I am hoping that Harry's Parseltongue can help, and that the Basilisk can be reasonable, at least not against reasoning, because we can understand each other."
No sooner had he finished speaking than they heard a series of loud bangs, as if the Basilisk had awakened and was fighting with someone.
"I reckon—" Ron said in a trembling voice, "that Basilisk probably does not want to reason."
"Agreed. We have to hurry!" Draco said urgently. "I wager it is not far off."
They exchanged a glance and started running forward.
Finally, Draco and Ron arrived, panting, at the doorway carved with two intertwined snakes. They heard the sounds of fierce fighting coming from inside; the Basilisk seemed to have gone mad.
Draco took a deep breath, raised his wand, and shouted, "Alohomora!"
The door remained completely still.
"What happened?" Ron asked in despair.
"Aberto...Portaberto..." Draco ignored him and tried to continue casting the spell until he ran out of options.
"No!" Draco stared into the eyes of the two snakes—the two emeralds gleaming in the darkness—and suddenly realised the problem. "That old reptile Salazar must need Parseltongue to open this damned door!"
"Then how are we going to get in?" Ron asked, his eyes wide with surprise, his voice trembling with tears. "We are not Parselmouths!"
Then he lunged at the door, trying to call out, "Harry, Harry! Harry, are you all right?"
There was no response from Harry on the other side of the door.
"Save your breath, he cannot hear you. Expecting him to teach you Parseltongue to open doors right away is wishful thinking," Draco said, his face already deathly pale.
It was very noisy inside, and Harry could barely hear their faint knocking or shouting.
Ron pounded on the door for a whilst, and finally had to admit that Draco was right—pounding on the door was completely futile.
So he pressed his ear against the door, trying to hear more clearly what was happening inside.
He wanted to hear if Harry's voice was still there.
Draco remained silent, leaning against the wall, once again experiencing a sense of powerlessness he had not felt in a long time.
A sense of hopelessness that he could only watch from the sidelines and had no influence whatsoever.
After an unknown amount of time, Ron stopped listening intently.
He sat pale-faced on a stone slab in front of the door and said to Draco, who was resting with his eyes closed against the wall, "Did you hear that? The Chamber of Secrets—it is quiet now."
"I noticed." Draco opened his eyes, walked to the door, and looked at it hesitantly.
Quiet.
A deathly silence.
"Do you think Harry is still alive?" Ron asked in a trembling voice.
"I do not know," Draco said, his tone as stiff as the surrounding stone walls. "I reckon we will find out soon enough."
Not long after, there was a slight noise coming from the door.
Ron leaped into the air, and Draco gripped his wand tightly.
"Stand behind me, hurry up! You do not have a wand," Draco urged Ron.
He tried his best to remain calm, the tip of his wand trembling slightly as it pointed towards the door.
"No! I do not want to be a coward and hide behind you! Not having a wand does not mean I cannot fight!" Ron picked up a large rock from the ground, held it above his head, and said through gritted teeth, "If it is a Basilisk, I will smash its head in with this rock."
"Not bad." Draco was surprised for a moment, then chuckled softly. "Brave yet foolish Gryffindors, let us do it this way."
Ron blushed and glanced at him, only to find that his once indifferent grey eyes did not show any mockery, but rather a glint of approval.
So he smiled at Draco, then turned away, holding the stone, and stared intently at the door.
The door opened.
The phoenix flew out first, followed by Harry. He helped the unsteady Ginny Weasley out as well.
He was also holding a bunch of odds and ends in his hands—a wand, a diary with holes burnt through it, the tattered Sorting Hat, and a bloodstained silver sword.
"Ginny!" Ron breathed a sigh of relief, wobbled as he put the stone down, rushed over, and took his sister from him.
He exclaimed to Ginny with overwhelming joy, "You are alive! I cannot believe it! How did this happen?"
He tried to hug Ginny, but the little girl cried and would not let him near her. Ron had no choice but to lead her aside and sit down, gently comforting his little sister.