The pipe was pitch black.
A black cat flowed into it.
As it slid, the cat's bright green eyes carefully watched the branch-tunnels that split off in all directions.
The main pipe under it twisted and turned, coiling endlessly downward. The slope was steep, always slanting deeper and deeper into the earth.
Sean knew he was already far beneath the school—lower than the underground classrooms, deeper than any place students were meant to go.
Until—thud. The cat hit bottom, rolling a few times across the stone.
Halfway through the tumble, he turned back into a bespectacled boy.
"—Don't knock them off."
Sean said abruptly.
Whitey, who was scrabbling at his glasses with one clawed foot, froze.
He moved along the tunnel, turning one corner after another.
Sean's expression stayed calm. From time to time he glanced at the Marauder's-like map—at Ginny in the Gryffindor tower and the three on the second floor pacing in circles.
At last, after one more careful turn, he came to a solid stone wall, carved with two intertwined serpents. Their eyes were set with large, gleaming emeralds.
"Hsssss (Open)."
Sean was always struck by how vast magic was. Parseltongue—a talent that wasn't even especially famous—had been enough to keep this Chamber hidden for a thousand years.
Just like the way phoenixes favored Dumbledore's bloodline—no one really knew what else lay buried in this magical land—
With a faint grinding sound, the two serpents slid apart, and the stone wall split down the middle, slowly retreating into the sides and vanishing.
Sean raised his glowing wand in his left hand, and in his right gripped the Sword of Gryffindor, then stepped inside.
Right now he felt like he'd become the melee-mage he remembered from another life.
Beyond the wall stretched a long, dimly lit hall.
Dozens of huge stone pillars carved with coiling snakes held up a ceiling lost in shadow. The greenish mist hanging in the air threw long, eerie shadows across the floor.
Sean was tense, just a little. He scanned every corner; the Alchemic Toads were not far ahead.
Those little devices had been watching the basilisk for a long time, waiting for him to come and deal with it.
Following the indicator on his planning map, he walked until he came level with the last pair of pillars.
There, pressed against the far black wall, loomed a statue as tall as the chamber itself.
Salazar Slytherin.
He had an ancient, monkey-like face and a stringy gray beard that fell almost to his waist.
Curled beneath the statue was the gigantic basilisk—its entire body a poisonous, shining green, its hide gleaming like a jewel, its trunk as thick as an oak.
It had been dozing.
Now it was awake.
One of the Alchemic Toads hopped up onto Sean's forearm. His wand flared, flooding the hall with harsh light, and in his other hand the Sword of Gryffindor shone razor-bright.
Up on the first floor corridor—
"I heard it! 'Kill… kill those who see…'"
Harry's face went dead white. He dropped to the floor, pressing his ear to the stone, catching the faintest hiss, unmistakably Parseltongue.
The night was so quiet he could hear nothing but that thin, slithering voice and his own heartbeat.
"Think, Harry—what kind of snake does Hogwarts have that's—dangerous—"
Hermione's voice shook with urgency, but she didn't dare move, afraid to disrupt his listening.
"We've got to tell Dumbledore—"
She blurted.
"Hermione, any snake is dangerous—and if Sean hasn't told us—"
Ron said, shivering.
The corridor was dim. About twenty spiders were scrambling frantically along the floor and up the wall, crowding toward a narrow crack in the window glass.
A single long strand of silvery web hung like a rope; it seemed they had scuttled up along it in their rush to flee outside.
"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?"
While Harry listened, Hermione asked.
Ron was standing way back, visibly forcing himself not to bolt.
"What are you doing?" she added, noticing his expression.
"I–I don't like—don't like spiders."
Ron muttered.
"I never heard that," Hermione said, surprised. "You've used spiders in Potions loads of times—"
"Dead spiders don't bother me," Ron said, carefully keeping his eyes away from the window. "I just don't like the way they move—"
Hermione couldn't help a little laugh.
"What's funny about that?" Ron snapped. "You know, when I was three, Fred turned my teddy into a giant disgusting spider because I broke his toy broom.
If that happened to you, you wouldn't like them either. Imagine hugging your teddy and suddenly it sprouts all these legs and—"
He shuddered, unable to go on.
Hermione's face changed. Suddenly very serious, she exclaimed, "To the library—Harry, I think I've read about this kind of snake!"
So Harry was dragged off the floor and hauled after her.
The library.
It had closed long ago; the stacks should've been empty. A book fell from a high shelf—except it didn't quite fall. It was plucked free by an invisible hand.
"Did you find it, Hermione?"
Harry whispered.
Hermione just stood there, staring at the open page, not saying a word.
"Hermione?"
Ron called anxiously.
Still no response.
Between them they pried her fingers off the cover and pulled the old library book down.
Harry flipped it open, Ron crowding in at his shoulder.
"In our country there roam many dangerous beasts and monsters, but none more strange and deadly than the basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents.
This snake may grow to an immense size and usually lives for several centuries. It is bred from a chicken's egg, hatched under a toad.
The basilisk kills in a most astonishing fashion; in addition to its venomous fangs, its gaze is instantly fatal to any who meet it.
Spider populations flee its presence, for it is the natural enemy of spiders—"
"So there is a basilisk at Hogwarts… that's the danger Dobby meant—and the voice I've been hearing—"
Harry was horrified by his own conclusion; Ron looked no better. He had to clamp down on his own mouth to keep from screaming.
"Where did it come from? What was that 'open' Sean asked about? And how are we supposed to help?"
Harry's questions poured out in a rush, his brain blank and buzzing.
No one here could answer him.
"Listen, Harry—if Sean's found the basilisk, he's not going to ignore it. He always insists on facing danger alone," Hermione said, her voice trembling on the edge of tears. "We have to tell the Headmaster—"
The basilisk.
The King of Serpents.
Eyes that turned victims to stone, fangs that dripped poison, a colossal body—every part of it screamed danger.
And Sean simply stood there, looking it in the eye, calm behind his refracting goggles—while six Alchemic Toads around the Chamber flared to life.
The basilisk was enraged.
Its massive body scraped slowly across the dusty floor. Then it reared up.
It didn't get all the way upright before dropping down a full yard—because the ground under it had sunk away.
[You practice Material Transfiguration once at a journeyman standard within the master's domain; master XP +10]
The snake thrashed, more furious still. It lunged forward—and stalled again.
Two huge dogs had clamped their jaws into its body.
Two dogs, six heads, all wearing goggles. An absurd sight.
The basilisk twisted, the impact of its skull against the cavern roof echoing like distant thunder.
Sean's eyes fixed on the stone overhead. Fine cracks were spreading.
Chunks of rock tore free under gravity and slammed onto the basilisk's head. It bucked and thrashed, but the barrage left it dazed.
Sean didn't pause. As the debris hit the floor, he was already at the creature's side, sword in hand.
The Sword of Gryffindor was spotless, gleaming silver.
The basilisk shook itself clear at last. It was far larger than any Cerberus, so it shrugged off Whitey and Tila with ease.
Sean stepped back, breath growing ragged, and wove another journeyman-level transfiguration.
The basilisk's counter-attack faltered yet again as the floor beneath it dipped away.
Sean was reaching his limits. His wand moved in tight circles; the stone crawled up, creeping over the snake's coils and locking them in place.
With a downward slash, he cast—and two three-headed dogs leapt for the basilisk again, as stone spikes dropped from the ceiling toward its skull.
"Time for black magic…"
Sean's eyes hardened.
"Impedimenta!"
The basilisk's struggles slowed. Its blood-slick body, battered by falling rock and stone spikes, grew sluggish.
Only its head jerked aside, narrowly dodging the sharpest spikes.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Two full-body bind curses, both cast silently and instantly, layered atop his transfiguration. The basilisk went completely still.
The Cerberi tore at it without resistance.
Sean was exhausted. Three master-level transfigurations had hollowed him out; his hand shook around the sword hilt.
"It's still a bit much…"
He stepped up to the basilisk's massive head. Through the refracting lenses, he could see the strange, alien pupils.
Even with the glasses, meeting its gaze made his mind go blank for a heartbeat.
The Sword of Gryffindor cut deep, slicing into its body—but he didn't go for a killing blow.
He sheathed the weapon and gulped down potion, only to hear his status panel chime.
[You gain the affection of the magical creature Basilisk at master standard; affinity +300]
Sean: "…"
He'd thought he was only here to observe the basilisk long enough to design a ritual.
He hadn't expected a bonus prize.
The sword seemed to carry some strange power. After that cut across the tail, the basilisk's strength went out of it, its whole body sagging.
Sean followed up with a string of Stunners, and had Whitey—currently a transfigured rooster—perch on its head, just in case, before finally relaxing a little.
Killing a basilisk was easy.
Taming one—
Also not all that hard.
With Voldemort's soul weakened by the soul artifact, Sean had a precious window of time to develop a basilisk cookie.
What puzzled him was how fast the affinity had climbed after he beat it.
He'd never seen a creature's affection go up so quickly.
He briefly wondered if he'd been hissing Parseltongue without noticing.
Then another possibility came to him. He dug out a book from his bag:
"The basilisk is an artificial creation. The first recorded basilisk was bred by 'Herpo the Foul,' a Parselmouth and Greek Dark wizard.
After many experiments, he discovered that a chicken's egg, hatched under a toad, would produce a dangerously powerful serpent."
A dark wizard—
Which meant the basilisk itself was likely a product of Dark magic.
He opened his panel:
[Wizard: Sean. Dark magic talent: Gold (enhanced by Dark Saint title). Note: most wizards are Green.]
[Assessment: You are a historically rare genius in the field of Dark magic; Dark magic reaches toward you of its own accord. You are a born King of Dark Arts.]
[Impedimenta: Master (1000 / ? )]
[Petrificus Totalus: Expert (1000 / 9000)]
[Reducto: Expert (2000 / 9000)]
For the first time, Sean had to admit that letting the Dark Arts "hug him back" was…
He shook his head hard.
No. Bad idea.
In the Chamber, the basilisk lay utterly still. Only the Sword of Gryffindor glinted in the dim light. A massive fang loosened and dropped to the floor.
Sean picked up the fang, his eyes as deep and unreadable as the sea.
~~~
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