Rhys placed his forkful of Swedish meatballs back onto his plate and glanced at Harry.
"I'm not quite sure what you're talking about."
"That night—Halloween! You know what I mean!"
Harry glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to them, then lowered his voice.
"You must have heard something, Rhys."
Harry's tone was unwavering. "I heard something too… some strange words."
He stared intently at Rhys's face, trying to read his expression for any clues.
The experience of that night—the whispers he had faintly heard—had been haunting him ever since.
Harry had been desperate to talk to Rhys about it.
But between one of them always being surrounded by people, he had never gotten the chance.
Tonight, at the Christmas banquet, he had finally found a moment alone with him.
Of course, he had to ask.
Unfortunately for Harry, Rhys's expression remained unreadable.
On the surface, Rhys appeared unfazed, but deep down, he did feel a slight ripple of emotion.
The reason was simple: Harry's bluntness was so… Gryffindor.
To just charge in headfirst and ask him directly?
If Rhys had truly been the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets, the one responsible for the murders, then Harry had just walked straight into danger.
How very Gryffindor of him.
Seeing how incredibly Gryffindor Harry was being, Rhys decided to offer him a sliver of truth.
"You've already made up your mind, which leaves me with nothing to say. You only believe what you want to believe, don't you?"
"I—"
Harry opened his mouth, wanting to refute him.
But the more he thought about it, the more he realized Rhys had a point.
He had, in fact, jumped to conclusions.
"But that night—your wand, your lunchbox…"
Harry listed the oddities he had noticed.
Rhys: "….."
"All of those have perfectly reasonable explanations."
Rhys spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness.
"For example, my stomach really did hurt that night. Or maybe my robe pocket had a hole in it. These things happen. None of that proves I heard the 'strange voice' you're talking about."
Rhys looked at Harry, his tone exasperated.
"You're still letting your bias control you. You assume something is true first, then go looking for evidence to support it. That logic is flawed. Daphne told me that last year, you were convinced Professor Snape was the ultimate villain. And you found plenty of 'evidence' to support it, didn't you?"
Harry fell silent.
After a few seconds, he stiffened his neck and muttered, "That's different."
"No, it's exactly the same."
Rhys cut him off directly.
"That night, I simply missed dinner and went to the kitchens to get some food. That's all."
Rhys looked at Harry and continued, "But you—you're suspecting me the same way you suspected Professor Snape last year. That won't do. When you start reasoning, you shouldn't assume someone is the culprit right away. That messes with your judgment."
"I don't think you're the culprit—"
Rhys waved a hand dismissively.
"That doesn't matter. You know there are tons of talking paintings and enchanted suits of armor around the castle. What you heard could've easily been one of them."
"That…"
Harry thought that explanation sounded ridiculous.
But when he thought about it more carefully… It wasn't impossible.
Maybe it was an armor or a painting.
Or even one of Peeves' pranks?
"There's one more possibility."
Rhys' words instantly grabbed Harry's attention.
Harry looked up, waiting for Rhys to continue.
"Harry, when you were younger, did you ever talk to animals?"
Harry's eyes widened in shock.
He suddenly remembered something—Something that had happened when he was ten, just before his eleventh birthday.
That day, Uncle Vernon and his family had taken him to the zoo, and a python had actually talked to him!
"It really happened!" Harry's eyes lit up with excitement. "When I was ten, a python actually understood what I was saying! Yes! I really could talk to animals!"
Rhys gave him a knowing smile.
"See? Just as I thought. This is a special gift," Rhys explained.
"And it might just answer your question—That night, what you actually heard could have been the voice of a hungry snake hunting for food."
Everything suddenly clicked for Harry.
This explained everything.
He could talk to snakes—so of course, he had heard that voice.
Rhys and Ron didn't have this ability—so they hadn't heard anything at all.
But the realization made Harry feel a little uneasy.
He hated being "special."
He didn't want to be the one everyone whispered about.
"I suggest you talk to Ron about this before telling any other students," Rhys advised.
He knew how infamous Parseltongue was in the wizarding world—both in modern times and ancient history.
It wouldn't be wise for Harry to spread this around.
Rhys figured this was his way of looking out for a Gryffindor.
It wasn't often that someone this straightforward came up to him, determined to dig out the truth.
Harry nodded seriously.
He had already been thinking the same thing.
He didn't know why talking to snakes was such a big deal but he definitely didn't want another reason for people to see him as different.
"By the way, where are you headed after the banquet?" Rhys asked, curious about Harry's plans.
"You're not going straight back to Hogwarts, are you?"
"I'm going to the Burrow with Ron—That's the Weasley family home. I'll be staying there for a while, spending Christmas with them."
"Then let me wish you a Merry Christmas in advance!"
"You too."
With that, their conversation came to a natural close.
Harry had gotten the "answer" he was looking for, and Rhys had revealed a part of the truth to him.
As for why he didn't tell Harry everything…
Well, Rhys wasn't sure if the kid could handle it.
If he laid out the whole truth in just a few sentences and Harry ended up jumping into the Black Lake over it, Dumbledore would definitely come knocking.
And at that point, where would Hogwarts' dignity even be?
...
When the clock struck midnight, fireworks lit up the sky over the manor.
Guests from all across the country—and even from abroad—began to take their leave.
Harry left with the Weasleys, while Daphne and Astoria, visibly exhausted, finally made their way back to Rhys.
"Want something to eat?" Rhys asked, pulling out a few dishes. "I kept them warm with magic."
"Thank Merlin!" Daphne could no longer be bothered with appearances—she immediately grabbed some food and started eating.
Chatting with those ladies earlier had completely worn her out. It was as if they could survive on nothing but the vibrations of their own vocal cords—they had barely eaten anything throughout the entire banquet.
Watching Daphne devour her food, and Astoria—who ate a little more gracefully but just as quickly—Rhys couldn't help but smile wryly.
These two had it rough too.
And just like that, Christmas Eve quietly slipped away.
Unfortunately, Rhys couldn't sleep yet—he still had to prepare Christmas gifts for his friends.
_________
Read 12 Chapters ahead:
Patreon: HornyFBI