"Apply it," Riddle said coldly.
Malfoy opened the bottle. The silvery liquid shimmered faintly, and the sacred aura of the unicorn's blood convinced Riddle of its authenticity.
"Lucius is truly loyal," Riddle remarked, a trace of satisfaction curling at the edge of his lips. "These things aren't cheap."
"Indeed, not cheap," Malfoy replied, his voice flat. Riddle didn't notice the fleeting gleam of black that rippled through the silver blood.
"Basilisk venom isn't cheap either," Malfoy added with a grimace—and suddenly shouted, "Run!"
Before Hermione could react, he drew a small knife from his robes and began slashing fiercely at the diary. In an instant the delicate black notebook was riddled with cuts, the pages torn and shredded. Unicorn blood mixed with venom splashed across its surface, seeping into the gouged cracks.
Everything happened in the blink of an eye.
Riddle, complacent and preparing to restore his perfect body, hadn't expected an attack from his own follower. He froze in disbelief, the smirk still half-formed on his face. Hermione, too, could only stare in shock, her mind unable to process what she was witnessing.
"Damn it—you can't even run for your life," Malfoy thought bitterly, glancing at the dazed girl.
"You actually betrayed me!" Riddle's once-solid form began to twist violently. His body convulsed, his arms flailing as the black mist that composed him started to dissipate. His voice, filled with both fury and disbelief, echoed through the chamber. "You dare betray me, after all this!"
He screamed in agony, his face contorting as he glared at the subordinate he had trusted most.
"Kill them!" he hissed, his voice now snakelike, filled with venomous hatred. The command rang out in Parseltongue. Then, with one last furious roar, he vanished—his body collapsing into smoke that drifted apart like ashes on the wind.
With a soft clack, Lockhart's wand dropped to the stone floor. No one moved to pick it up.
"Are you stupid?" Malfoy roared at Hermione. "Aren't you going to run?"
The rapid twists of fate defied all logic. Voldemort—arrogant, untouchable Voldemort—was gone, destroyed in mere moments. Hermione felt as though she were dreaming.
"Close your eyes!" Malfoy shouted suddenly. His gaze snapped toward the giant stone face of Salazar Slytherin. The enormous mouth was moving—slowly at first, then wider and wider, until it became a gaping black void.
A low, rustling sound came from deep within. Something enormous was slithering upward from the darkness.
"Go find Dumbledore! If we stay, we'll both die!"
Malfoy squeezed his eyes shut. The Basilisk was emerging.
People often assumed large creatures were slow; few realized how fast some could move. The Basilisk was one of those exceptions—massive, yet frighteningly swift.
From the statue's mouth erupted a colossal serpent, its scales gleaming emerald-green under the chamber's torchlight. The creature's body was as thick as an oak trunk, and its head—flat, broad, and ancient—swayed between the pillars with terrifying grace. Venom glistened at the corners of its fanged mouth, radiating a deadly aura.
Then a sound like an explosion cracked through the air. Malfoy instinctively rolled backward, barely avoiding the serpent's impact. Stone shattered where he had stood a heartbeat before.
"What are you still standing there for? Trying to get us both killed?" he shouted. Instinct told him Hermione hadn't moved—frozen by shock.
Another violent hiss echoed in his ears. Something massive slammed into a pillar, sending shards of stone flying.
"Damn it," he muttered, sprinting toward the noise. The Basilisk seemed to recognize him as the greater threat and shifted targets. "Why didn't I bother to learn a few words of Parseltongue?" he thought bitterly. "Could've at least told the blasted thing to calm down."
But regret was useless now.
The Basilisk's immense body lashed again, and Hermione finally snapped back to awareness. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to flee, but her foot caught on uneven stone and she stumbled. The serpent's hissing tongue flicked through the air, tasting her fear.
"He's not one of the Dark Lord's," she realized distantly. "That's… good."
It was her last coherent thought before terror drowned out everything else. The Basilisk was close now—so close she could smell the sickly, fishy stench of its breath. She braced herself for the killing strike, but the pain never came.
"Open your eyes!"
Malfoy's voice cut through the noise, urgent and sharp. Against all reason, she obeyed.
The moment her eyes opened, a stinging smack landed across her cheek. The shock of pain cleared the fog in her mind. She gasped—and saw the scene before her.
Malfoy's hand was pinned inside the Basilisk's mouth, impaled completely by a gleaming fang. Bright blood streamed down his wrist, splattering the serpent's scales. Yet its jaws were frozen wide open, held apart by something wedged between its teeth.
"Next time," Malfoy hissed through gritted teeth, "I'll buy Ollivander dinner and compliment his wand-making skills." Even through the agony, he forced a crooked grin, trying to steady Hermione's panic.
Only then did she notice it—his wand, jammed between the Basilisk's fangs, keeping its mouth from closing.
"How was that slap?" he rasped. "If it wasn't enough, I can try again. Otherwise—hurry and get help!"
He was trembling, his voice wavering despite his effort to sound composed.
"You'll die! There's not enough time!" Hermione cried, horrified by the sight of his blood pooling beneath them.
"Don't talk nonsense," Malfoy said firmly. "Dumbledore will have a way."
His face had gone pale, but determination blazed in his eyes.
"If you don't leave, I will die," he added weakly, lifting his uninjured hand as though ready to slap her again just to make her move.
"O-okay! I'll go!" Hermione choked out. Tears blurred her vision as she turned and sprinted toward the exit.
Watching her retreating back, Malfoy exhaled shakily. "Good girl," he muttered, relief flickering across his face.
Then he reached into his robe with his free hand and pulled out the third vial he'd brought that day. His injured arm hung uselessly, blood dripping steadily onto the stone. Balancing awkwardly, he uncorked the bottle and poured its contents over the wound. Much of it spilled, splattering across his robes, but he didn't care.
"It's a real bloodbath today," he said to no one, forcing a wry chuckle.
The humor lasted only a second.
A sharp crack echoed through the chamber.
Malfoy's head snapped up just in time to see his wand—his only weapon—splinter cleanly in two.
"I take back that dinner invitation," he muttered darkly. His voice trembled. He could feel the wand's magic fading, like a living thing crying out before death.
The Basilisk thrashed violently, its massive body smashing into pillars and walls. Dust and debris rained from the ceiling. Malfoy's wounded arm screamed with pain as the serpent tried to snap its jaws shut, the broken wand barely keeping them apart.
The pressure on his hand intensified. He gritted his teeth, his entire body shaking.
"Is this really how it ends?" he whispered, a wry smile tugging at his blood-spattered lips.
The Basilisk's tail whipped through the air. He threw himself aside, barely dodging the blow. The serpent's sheer force shattered the ground where he had stood, sending shards flying.
He stumbled, half-blind from blood and dust. The venom on the fang was already burning through his flesh, spreading like fire. His thoughts began to blur.
"Not… yet," he murmured, forcing himself upright. "Not until she's safe."
He pressed his good hand against the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. The potion stung viciously, but at least it dulled the throbbing pain.
The Basilisk reared back, hissing angrily, its golden eyes blazing through the gloom. It lunged again, jaws snapping. Malfoy ducked under the strike, the gust of air from its lunge nearly throwing him off balance.
He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Every breath came ragged and shallow.
Somewhere above, a section of the ceiling gave way, crashing down between him and the serpent. For a moment, both man and monster froze amid the haze of dust and rubble.
Malfoy's mind drifted, the world narrowing to the faint echo of Hermione's footsteps fading into the distance.
"Dumbledore… better hurry," he muttered faintly. "I'm not holding this thing off forever."
The Basilisk hissed again, furious that its prey had escaped. It thrashed violently, the chamber trembling with every strike. Its tail caught Malfoy's shoulder and sent him sprawling.
He hit the ground hard, coughing blood, vision swimming. His wand—what was left of it—clattered a few feet away.
For a long moment he simply lay there, every muscle screaming in pain. The sound of the serpent's movements echoed distantly, like waves pounding against rock.
Then, slowly, he pushed himself up on one elbow.
"Still alive," he said hoarsely, half-laughing at the absurdity of it. "Guess the Dark Lord isn't the only one who refuses to die."
The Basilisk turned toward him, its tongue flickering, searching for the heartbeat that still defied it.
Malfoy took one shaky breath and whispered, "Come on, Dumbledore… make it quick."
The chamber rumbled again, louder this time—somewhere far above, the faint sound of footsteps and a distant cry echoed down the tunnel.
Malfoy smiled faintly through the blood on his lips. "Good timing… Hermione."
He closed his eyes as the serpent lunged once more.
(End of Chapter 51)
For more chapters
patreon.com/Jackssparrow