Chapter 12: chapter 11
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Chapter 11: The Secrets Beneath
The echoing footsteps of students faded as Harry slipped unnoticed through the castle's lower levels, shrouded in the silvery folds of the invisibility cloak he had taken from his father's room. He moved with practiced stealth, each step precise and deliberate. Hogwarts was alive with its usual hum of magic, but Harry's purpose tonight was anything but ordinary.
His hand traced the edge of the cold, damp stone wall as he approached the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets in the second-floor girls' bathroom. The faint sound of running water greeted him as he entered, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across the broken sinks and cracked tiles.
Harry's emerald eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light, landed on the faucet adorned with a tiny snake engraving. He leaned closer, whispering softly in Parseltongue, the language slipping from his tongue like a melody.
"Open."
The sink shifted, stone grinding against stone as the passageway revealed itself, spiraling downward into darkness. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and mildew, but Harry didn't hesitate. He climbed down, his wand illuminating the way as he descended into the depths of the school.
The Chamber was much as he remembered from his childhood stories, though it had long been sealed and undisturbed. Towering serpentine statues lined the walls, their empty eyes watching his every step. Water trickled along the floor, pooling in uneven stone depressions.
At the far end of the chamber lay the enormous serpent. Its body, even in slumber, radiated an oppressive weight of power. The basilisk, the legendary monster of Salazar Slytherin, lay coiled in a massive heap. Its scales shimmered faintly in the wand light, a deep green mottled with black.
Harry stopped several paces away, his breath catching at the sight. He felt no fear—only a strange, aching sadness.
"Hello, old friend," he whispered in Parseltongue.
The serpent stirred, its massive body shifting slightly. Its head rose, golden eyes glowing faintly in the dark. The basilisk's gaze could kill, but the weariness in its movements told Harry the creature was no longer the unstoppable force it once was.
"I am not here to harm you," Harry said softly, his voice steady. "I know what they did to you. What he did to you."
The serpent tilted its head, a low rumble vibrating through the chamber. Its mind was fragmented, torn between loyalty to its master and the guilt of its actions. Harry could feel the confusion and pain radiating from the creature like waves.
"You were meant to protect this place," Harry continued, his voice laced with quiet sorrow. "Not to kill. Never to kill. He twisted you, just as he twists everything he touches."
The basilisk's gaze seemed to waver, and it lowered its head slightly, as though understanding his words.
Harry tightened his grip on his wand, his heart heavy. "I'll free you from this. I promise it will be quick."
The basilisk let out a low hiss, almost a sigh, as it closed its eyes and rested its head on the stone floor.
Harry raised his wand, channeling the raw power of lightning. Sparks crackled along the length of the wood as the air around him charged with energy. He whispered a single incantation, his voice firm and unwavering.
A bolt of pure white lightning shot forth, striking the serpent with a deafening crack. The chamber lit up as the magic-resistant scales were pierced, the electricity coursing through the basilisk's massive body. It didn't have time to react. Its death was swift, its body falling still as the light faded.
Harry lowered his wand, his chest heaving. He approached the serpent's lifeless form, placing a hand gently on its massive head.
"Rest now," he murmured.
The work that followed required precision and care. Harry conjured tools to extract the basilisk's venom, careful not to spill even a single drop. The venom was potent, one of the few substances capable of destroying a Horcrux.
Once the task was done, he sealed the venom in a glass vial and tucked it securely into his robes. His mind was already calculating the next steps, the ritual he would need to prepare. The basilisk's remains would provide him with everything he needed: its fangs for breaking curses, its venom for destroying fragments of a soul, and its magical essence for fueling the spell.
Harry looked around the chamber one last time. This place, a symbol of both Slytherin's legacy and Voldemort's corruption, now felt hollow. He left it as he had found it—silent and still, a grave for a creature that had suffered too much.
As he climbed back toward the surface, his thoughts churned. The next phase of his plan required careful execution. Time was not on his side, and the shadows of the past were closing in.
For now, he carried with him the tools to fight a battle that had spanned decades, a battle he was determined to end on his terms.