It wasn’t Jessica who had been drugged! Alexis knew immediately as chaos erupted in the Great Hall, with Jessica being pulled to safety by some Hufflepuffs retreating toward the exit. She wasn’t upset that her assumption had been wrong – she barely had time to think at all. Fire raged within the hall, filling the air with scorching heat and thick smoke.


    Fortunately, the growing heat and suffocating smoke were eased as more windows shattered, letting in fresh air. Unfortunately, the fire was no ordinary blaze. It defied conventional extinguishing charms, and even Professor Flitwick struggled to contain it, managing only to restrict its spread within certain bounds.


    Alexis and the Weasley twins quickly joined Scarlet, who was standing at the edge of the chaos, helping others escape the inferno.


    Fred turned, spotting Ron trailing behind him. He shouted, “Ron, get out! Leave now! This is no place for you!”


    George, catching sight of Harry and Hermione helping other students escape, frowned deeply. His ash-covered face mirrored Fred’s worried expression. “You two! Leave at once! This isn’t some thrilling adventure!”


    “No, we’re not leaving,” Hermione said firmly, her voice cutting through the commotion as she used her wand to levitate a struggling student through a shattering window. “We can help!”


    “But--”


    “Let them stay!” Alexis interrupted sharply. “We don’t have time to argue - just focus on getting everyone out!”


    More and more students made their way out of the hall, guided by the remaining prefects and professors who worked tirelessly to suppress the fire. Still, some students remained trapped, cornered by the raging flames, froze in fear with tears streaming down their faces.


    “Fear not, for I shall save you all!”


    Lockhart’s unmistakably boastful voice cut through the commotion as he launched a potion toward the juvenile Chimaera. With a dramatic flourish of his wand, the potion dispersed into a fine mist that rained down on the beast, causing it to slump to the ground in a dazed stupor, thoroughly incapacitated.


    Anger flared in Alexis’s eyes as she glared at the ostentatiously proud Lockhart. “Fear not, students,” he declared dramatically. “The situation is now under control! Soon the clouds of despair that robbed you of your joy will clear, and--”


    “Shut up!” Alexis spat under her breath, seething. If it weren’t for you, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place! But she knew now wasn’t the time to confront him. Her thoughts darted back to Jessica’s dream – the warning of second Chimaera appeared.


    Her heart sank as the ground quacked, and a gigantic Chimaera appeared at the entrance. The adult beast was furious, its enormous frame nearly filling the entire doorway.


    It roared, a deafening, thunderous sound that echoed through the Great Hall and left Alexis temporarily disoriented. Before she could think, the Chimaera let loose a deadly wave of flames and venomous breath that surged toward everything - and everyone – in its path.


    Alexis’s mind went blank.


    Her instinct screamed as she raised her wand and shouted, “SHIELD!”


    An invisible, shimmering film erupted in front of her, blocking the oncoming blast. Flames and venom dissipated as they struck the barrier, sparing Alexis and everyone standing beside her.


    “Chimmy! Stop!” Professor Kettleburn’s voice rang out from somewhere in the chaos. “Who upset you? Papa will deal with them, I promise! Be a good girl and calm down!”


    Seizing the opportunity, the Weasley twins produced several potions bottles from their robes, skilfully waving their wands to send the potions cascading down onto the Chimaera.


    Ron’s eyes widened. “What are those?”


    “Calming Draughts and Sleeping Draughts,” Fred explained, tossing another bottle into the air. “Chimaera are highly resistant to spells and charms, and even potions barely work on them.”


    “Barely,” George added, “but we’re taking a gamble. The more we throw, the better our chances.”


    “Why don’t you just make it drink the potion?” Harry asked, his wand poised slightly.


    “We’d love to, but as you can see,” George gestured toward the chaos - Professor Kettleburn and other staff members struggled to calm the magical beast while Lockhart was conspicuously absent – whether he’d fled, fainted, or worse, no one could say, “getting it to sip from a glass isn’t exactly an option right now.”


    “I can do it,” Harry said firmly, his tone unwavering. “I’ll aim the bottle directly into its mouth.”


    The twins exchanged a quick glance before nodding. They both pulled a few more potion bottles from their bag. “We’ll keep you supplied with ammo.” Fred handed Harry one of the bottles.


    “Hurry!” George shouted, glancing at Alexis, whose shield flickered under the relentless pressure. “She can’t hold it much longer!”


    Harry gripped the potion bottle and cast, “Wingardium Leviosa!”


    While most student Harry’s age could only manage slow, wobbly levitations, he whipped his wand with precision, sending the bottle darting straight toward the Chimaera gaping, fire-filled maw.


    The glass melted in the heat, but the potion seeped into the beast’s throat. Almost immediately, its flame, its movements slowed – proof that the draught was taking effect, even if only slightly.


    However, no one dared relax. Harry continued launching potion after potion into the Chimaera’s mouth. Though the beast didn’t collapse, it calmed enough to stop breathing flames and venom. Instead, it listened to Professor Kettleburn, who coaxed it in soothing tones.


    Yet, the hall remained a blazing inferno, with the chimaera unbothered by the flames it called home.


    As the professors debated how to extinguish the remaining fire, an invisible pressure suddenly filled the room. They sensed a repression over the still-burning flames, as if suffocating air had smothered them.


    A voice, clear and steady, rang out: “Vacuum.”


    It was Scarlet. She stood silently beside Alexis, her hand extended toward the fire.


    In an instant, the fire extinguished, leaving only wisps of smoke as a reminder of the blazing chaos. However, her face grew paler with every passing moment. She began to feel a migraine building as she meticulously ensured that every ember was extinguished under the vacuum conditions. It had been no small feat to target the flames precisely across the vast hall while excluding any living beings within the area. Adding to her exhaustion, she had been shielding the trapped students from the start, but the relentless assault of flames and venom from the Chimaera had corroded her protective barriers far faster than she anticipated, depleting her magic pool even further.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    She exhaled slowly in relief as the last spark was snuffed out. Still, she didn’t lower her arms immediately. Instead, she called to the prefects, “Check on the students in the corners!”


    Snapped out of their awe, the prefects hurried toward trapped students. Under Scarlet’s protective wards, not a single scorch mark marred their skin. Although shaken and tear-streaked, they were unharmed, though too terrified to move without assistance.


    A faint clang echoed through the now-silent hall as Alexis’s wand slipped from her grasp, hitting the floor.


    Before anyone could react, she began to slumped forward, collapsing into George’s waiting arms just in time.


    “She’s exhausted,” Scarlet said, her voice calm yet firm as she finally lowered her hand. Though her pallor deepened and her voice carried a faint rasp, her tone remained composed. “She needs rest. Keep her still for now.”


    Her gaze sharpened as she scanned the chaotic aftermath. “Where’s Lockhart?”


    “Here!” Ron called out, standing beside a broken window. Hermione was at his side, her wand aimed at a dishevelled and bound Gilderoy Lockhart. Ron had him firmly by the collar, his once-flamboyant robe now singed and tattered, making him look far less charming as he flailed helplessly under Ron’s rough shove to the ground.


    While Harry had been busy launching potions at the mother Chimaera, Ron and Hermione had learned the details of the chaos from Fred and George. Spotting Lockhart trying to flee through a shattered window – previously used by students as an emergency exit – they decided to act. Disgusted by his cowardice, the two wasted no time capturing him. Now, their disdain was evident in the way they handled the man, showing him no respect whatsoever.


    Professor McGonagall’s sharp eyes scanned the scene. “Why is Professor Lockhart tied up?” she asked, her tone laced with suspicion.


    Fred signalled to Ron, who quickly produced a small vial and forced the contents down Lockhart’s throat. The man recoiled, his expression twisted in fear. “What did you just give me? I--”


    Hermione cut him off coldly. “What kind of potion you give the juvenile Chimaera, and where did you get the beast?”


    Eyes wide with terror, Lockhart stammered, unable to stop himself as the words tumbled out. “Swift-grow Brew, I... I got the egg from the Reserve...!” His face contorted in horror as his tried to keep his mouth shut, but it was futile – he couldn’t stop speaking.


    Hermione wasted no time, her next question delivered with unyielding firmness. “Whose memories did you steal to create your so-called autobiographies? List their names and their heroic deeds!”


    Lockhart let out a strangled noise but couldn’t resist. His confessions spilled out in rapid succession:


    “Elena Ravenscroft, a witch from Transylvania who actually rid the region of a dangerous vampire. Alastair Grimwood, a wizard from Wagga Wagga who defeated the local werewolf. Felicia Nightshade, a witch who saved the Elf-Maidens of the Black Forest from a banshee. Morgana Windrider, a witch who banished a Chimaera in Greece...”


    The list continued, each name exposing yet another stolen accomplishment. Ron scribbled furiously on a crumpled piece of paper he’d been using for homework before the chaos erupted, while Hermione stood vigilant, wand at the ready, ensuring Lockhart couldn’t make his escape.


    As Lockhart continued, his panic increases – but then, abruptly, his voice halted. He clamped his mouth shut, trembling as if physically forcing himself not to speak further.


    Fred sighed dramatically. “Too bad - two minutes are up.”


    George smirked and added, “An advanced version of Spill-an-Out Biscuits. It doesn’t work on people with strong willpower, but if someone’s mentally or emotionally unstable when they take the potion? They’re compelled to spill the truth to any question asked. Works for two minutes, tops.”


    Fred leaned against a nearby pillar, feigning regret. “We thought it was too extreme for a joke product, so we use a milder version for the Spill-an-Out Biscuits. But, of course, we kept the prototype – you know, for documentation purposes.”


    George chuckled darkly. “And guess what? Professor Lockhart’s answers surpassed even our wildest imagination.”


    The hall fell eerily silent, the air heavy with tension. Then Professor Kettleburn’s shrill voice broke through: “He made Chimmy’s baby drink Swift-grow Brew?! That potion accelerates growth but causes death to the drinker! How could you?! He was just an egg - a baby! He shouldn’t have hatched yet!”


    Professor Kettleburn turned in a panic, clutching at the edge of Professor Snape’s robes. “Severus! You must help! If we don’t save him, the baby will die – and Chimmy will lose her mind!”


    The last thing anyone needed was an upset Chimaera. Chimmy, the mother Chimaera glared menacingly at everyone, her fiery gaze lingering on Professor Kettleburn. The air was thick with tension as the massive creature appeared moments away from burning the entire hall to ashes if her baby didn’t survive. The potions Harry fed her only seemed to calm her enough to think rationally, buying them time, but not enough to lull her into sleep as they would for a human. Her restrain was tenuous at best.


    Professor Snape nodded briskly, wasting no time as he swept from the hall to retrieve the ingredients needed to brew the antidote to the Swift-grow Brew. Professor Kettleburn remained behind, desperately attempting to soothe as she lay down, hugging her juvenile Chimaera close. The baby looked dazed and lethargic, trembling slightly in its mother’s protective embrace.


    Harry fixed his sharp gaze on Lockhart. His voice, cutting and cold, rang through the hall. “Malfoy, you heard what he confessed, right?”


    Draco, standing on the far side of the hall, turned with a scowl. “I’m not deaf, Scarhead!” he snapped. Despite his usual sneers, Draco hadn’t left during the chaos. Instead, he had stayed behind to help others escape the flames and was now a key witness to Lockhart’s damning confession. His grey eyes narrowed as he appraised the dishevelled, panicked man. “My father will hear about this, and I can assure you, he won’t be pleased.”


    “Good,” Harry replied, his tone as icy as his glare. “I’ll make sure Sirius knows as well. A professor using a Chimaera to stage an attack, all for a fabricated heroic moment to bolster his stolen fame? It’s vile. Every memory he’s taken – and every name behind them – will be brought to light.”


    Professor McGonagall, who had remained silent during the exchange, now stepped forward. Her expression was stern, her lips pressed into a tight line. “All of you will report to my office later to give full accounts of what happened. For now, escort the injured to the hospital wing immediately. Head of Houses, take all students back to their dormitories. Classes are cancelled for the rest of the day.”


    Her commanding presence turned to Professor Kettleburn. “Keep Lockhart under your watch. We’ll deal with him properly once this chaos is resolved.”


    As Professor McGonagall continued to issue orders, students and staff alike began tending to themselves and others. Many were coughing or struggling to breathe from the venomous smoke, their conditions exacerbated by the prolonged exposure.


    Scarlet, among those most affected, could hardly speak after instructing the Weasley twins to let Alexis rest. Her tongue and throat felt swollen, and a wave of dizziness washed over her as the effects of adrenaline subdued. Only then did she realise how much smoke she had inhaled while ushering students out of the shattered windows.


    She had forgotten that she was no longer part of a support team from her previous life - there was no assaulting squad at her side, no one battling the monster. The professors, accustomed to academia rather emergencies, had reacted too slowly to the chaos. Caught in the confusion of her role, she hesitated between confronting the beast and continuing to help others escape. Yet instinct, ingrained through years of training, dictated her decision: she prioritised evacuating the students over attacking the creature.


    Bad habit, she mused, swaying as Fred caught her in his arms. I need to get used to the fact that no one’s guarding my back now... I overestimated myself... and underestimated just how destructive Lockhart could be. Who have thought the entire hall would end up in flames?


    Her musings were interrupted as a commanding voice bellowed through the hall. “What’s going on here?!”


    Mr. Shacklebolt stood at the entrance, a broom in his hand, with Ms. Tonks right behind him, clutching hers – they had apparently just returned from their patrol, likely drawn by the plume of smoke rising from the Great Hall’s shattered windows. His wand drawn, assessing the aftermath before him with sharp eyes. His gaze flickered to Chimmy, the mother Chimaera crouched in the centre of the hall, confusion and wariness evident in his expression.


    And here comes the police... always late in every superhero movie, Scarlet thought with a wry chuckle, which quickly turned onto uncontrollable coughing. Fred wasted no time, rushing her toward the hospital wing, George close behind carrying Alexis in his arms. Harry, Hermione, and Ron followed, all struggling with laboured breathing.


    The younger student seemed to fare worse than the older ones, likely due to their weaker immunity. Many had collapsed from smoke inhalation, their faces pale as staff hurried to treat them.


    No fatalities were reported - a fortunate outcome - but the incident would undoubtedly dominate the front page of The Daily Prophet by morning. Students, however, remained blissfully unaware of the impending media storm. Some, clutching soot-streaked faces, had already begun hastily writing letters to their parents, tears smudging the parchment.