57 Anticlimactic Demise

The castle lay silent and still with its ancient stones cloaked in the inky darkness of the night. Lucas moved through the shadowed corridors while the rooster floated behind him, invisible and mute, its frantic struggles quelled by the grip of Lucas's magic.

As he walked, his expanded pouch drifted away from his body, and a cascade of items began to pour forth, hovering in the air around him like a bizarre constellation. Small vials clinked softly as they attached themselves to his body, their glass cool against his skin. Each one held a measure of blood, imbued with an array of spells—some for healing, others for makeshift elemental grenades.

A set of plain clothes drifted before him, the fabric whispering softly as it moved. To the untrained eye, they appeared ordinary, but Lucas knew better. Threads of spell-infused blood ran through the garments like veins, ready to blunt the force of any blow.

Ducking into an abandoned classroom near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, Lucas quickly changed into the enchanted clothes. The fabric was soft against his skin, the fit perfect, as the garments had been tailored specifically for him. He tugged on the boots, feeling the magic within them stir to life, ready to swallow any sound his feet might make. The gloves came next, sliding over his fingers like a second skin. With a thought, he could make them cling to any surface, defying gravity with ease.

Around his neck, he clasped the Necklace of Protection, the metal warm against his skin. It would be his shield against any projectiles, a silent guardian always watching his back. The Wristband of Air Purification encircled his wrist, a slender band of silver that would ensure the air he breathed remained pure, no matter how foul the depths of the Chamber might be. On his finger, the Ring of Poison Absorption glinted in the dim light, a last line of defense against the Basilisk's lethal venom. Lucas hoped he wouldn't need to test its limits, but it was better to have it and not need it than the other way around.

Finally, the Elemental Sphere floated from his pouch, settling into his waiting palm like a loyal pet.

Lucas cast a critical eye over his preparations, running through a mental checklist. He was as ready as he could be, armed and armored against the beast that lurked below. But there was one final precaution to take.

With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a bubble of air around the captive rooster, sealing away any scent that might betray its presence to the Basilisk's keen senses. The bird's beady eyes stared at him, wide and uncomprehending, as it hung suspended in its invisible prison.

Satisfied, Lucas turned and strode towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets lay within.

The bathroom was empty, Myrtle's mournful presence absent for once. Lucas approached the sinks as his eyes roved over the porcelain until they snagged on the tiny snake etched into the tap. A hiss escaped his lips, the sibilant words of Parseltongue strange and alien in the stillness.

"Open."

The tap shuddered, then began to glow with an eerie white light. The sink shuddered, then sank out of sight, revealing a wide, gaping pipe. It was easily wide enough for a man, a dark, dank throat waiting to swallow him whole.

Lucas eyed the opening, a wry twist to his lips. He remembered reading something online, back in his old life, about a hidden staircase. Supposedly, all you had to do was say "stairs" in Parseltongue, and a set of steps would appear, leading you down into the depths in comfort and safety.

"Stairs," he hissed.

Nothing happened. The pipe remained, dark and foreboding, waiting for him to take the plunge.

Lucas sighed, shaking his head. It had been a long shot, anyway. He'd have to do this the hard way.

But first, a few precautions. He reached out with his magic, casting the Thermal Currents of the Vast Sea and Glow of the Depths, his sensory visualization spells. They would allow him to sense life through the heat it gave off and the way it disturbed the light. If anything was waiting for him down there, he'd know about it.

Next, he raised the Elemental Sphere, focusing his will. A jet of water blasted from the orb, surging into the pipe with the force of a firehose. Grime and filth were scoured away, leaving the stone clean and slick.

Balls of light followed, dozens of them, pouring from Lucas's hands like a swarm of fireflies. They zipped down the pipe, their glow banishing the darkness and illuminating every crack and crevice.

Nodding to himself, Lucas took a deep breath. He wrapped himself in a paper-thin shield of air, a second skin to keep the damp and the dirt at bay. Then, with a final glance around the bathroom, he leapt into the pipe.

The descent was dizzying, a twisting, turning plunge into the bowels of the castle. Smaller pipes branched off in all directions, a labyrinth of stone and metal. Lucas kept his eyes fixed ahead, his breath steady and even within his cocoon of air.

At last, the pipe leveled out, and he was spat out onto a damp stone floor. The rooster tumbled after him, still trapped in its bubble of silence.

Lucas rose to his feet, brushing himself off more out of habit than necessity. His clothes were pristine, protected by his magic. With a casual wave of his hand, he boiled the moisture from the floor, filling the tunnel with a thin, wispy mist.

More balls of light burst from his body, shooting off down the tunnel like comets. They lit up the darkness, revealing a passage of rough-hewn stone, the floor littered with the bones of small animals.

Lucas started forward and the crunch of bones beneath his feet was muffled by his enchanted boots.

As he rounded a bend, a glint of color caught his eye. There, lying in a twisted coil, was a massive snake skin. It shimmered a poisonous green in the magical light, the scales still bright and glossy despite the passage of time.

Lucas eyed the skin curiously. Twenty feet long, at least. Impressive, but not the gargantuan monster of the movies. The Basilisk of the Chamber was smaller, more compact. But no less deadly for it.

With a flick of his wrist, he levitated the skin, guiding it into his expanded pouch. It moved easily, offering no resistance. Perhaps the magic that had once suffused it had faded with the passing years. Or maybe it was tied to the life of the creature itself. Either way, it was his now.

Lucas pressed on and the tunnel stretched out before him, seeming to go on forever. But at last, he found himself standing before a solid wall. Two serpents were carved into the stone with their emerald eyes glinting in the light of his hovering spheres.

Lucas hissed the command, the Parseltongue flowing from his lips like a snake's whisper. "Open."

With a grating sound of stone on stone, the wall cracked down the middle. The two halves slid apart, revealing a long, dimly lit chamber beyond.

Lucas stepped through the opening and his eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight. Towering pillars lined the room, carved with entwined serpents that seemed to writhe in the flickering light. The ceiling was lost in shadow, vaulted and vast.

At the far end of the Chamber stood a statue, ancient and monkeyish. It depicted an aged wizard, his beard long and thin, his stone robes flowing about him. Salazar Slytherin, 'greatest' of the Hogwarts Four.

Lucas paused and his heart hammered a little bit in his chest. This was it. The moment of truth.

He sent forth his light balls, a veritable army of them. They soared through the Chamber, banishing the gloom and throwing every detail into sharp relief.

Then, steeling himself, Lucas closed his eyes. The words came to his lips, the Parseltongue rasping and sibilant.

"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."

The sound of grinding stone filled the Chamber, loud and grating. Lucas could sense the Basilisk stirring as its heat signature bloomed to life behind the statue. It was moving, slithering up from some hidden depth, making its way towards the statue's gaping mouth.

Lucas took a deep breath and centered himself. He cast his Wind's Gale and Water's Swell, feeling the elemental magic surrounding him and enhancing his speed.

Then, opening a tiny tunnel in his air shield, he called out to the Basilisk as his voice echoed in the cavernous space.

"Great serpent of Slytherin, I come to talk. I mean you no harm."

There was a pause, a moment of stillness. Then, a hissing voice filled the Chamber, ancient and cold.

"You are not my master. You are not of Slytherin's blood. Why should I not kill you where you stand, little human?"

Lucas shook his head in resignation. "I am a Speaker, like your master. I seek only to learn, to understand. Surely we can come to an arrangement."

A low, rasping sound filled the air, like the scrape of scales on stone. Laughter, cold and mirthless.

"You are bold, little Speaker. But boldness alone will not save you. My master left me here to guard his secrets, to purge this school of those he deemed unworthy. And that is what I shall do."

Lucas felt a surge of movement as he sensed the Basilisk lunging towards him. He leapt aside and his magically-enhanced speed carried him to safety just as the massive serpent struck the spot where he'd been standing.

The Basilisk reared back as its head weaved from side to side while it tried to locate its prey. But Lucas was invisible, wrapped in his spells, hidden from sight, sound, and scent.

"Where are you, little Speaker?" the Basilisk hissed, its voice dripping with malice.

Lucas didn't respond. Instead, he began to climb, scaling one of the carved pillars with the aid of his enchanted gloves. Higher and higher he went, until he was perched atop the pillar, looking down at the Basilisk below.

He opened another hole in his air shield that was connected with a wind tunnel that exited near the serpent, just big enough to let his voice through. "I do not wish to fight you, great serpent. Is there nothing I can do to prove my good intentions?"

The Basilisk whipped around as its eyes fixed on the source of the sound. It lunged, its massive body uncoiling like a spring. But once again, it found only empty air.

Lucas sighed, shaking his head. The Basilisk was beyond reason, beyond negotiation. There was only one way this could end.

He reached out with his magic, molding one of his light balls into the shape of a man. The glowing figure stepped out from behind a pillar with its luminous hand extended in a gesture of peace.

The Basilisk struck, its fangs sinking deep into the construct's chest. But it was only light, insubstantial and immaterial. The serpent's momentum carried it forward, and its head smashed into the stone pillar with a sickening crunch.

Lucas seized his chance. The Elemental Sphere pulsed in his hand, and a volley of sharp stone spikes erupted from its surface. They hurtled through the air, finding their mark in the Basilisk's open maw.

The great serpent convulsed as its body thrashed in its death throes. Lucas waited, his face grim, as the heat began to fade from the Basilisk's form.

Minutes passed, the Chamber silent save for the rasp of the serpent's final breaths. At last, Lucas descended from his perch, floating gently to the ground on a cushion of air.

He approached the fallen Basilisk cautiously while his pouch opened at his command. Containers floated out and arranged themselves in a neat row.

With a flick of his wrist, Lucas conjured a razor-sharp blade of earth. Carefully, almost gently, he began to carve out the Basilisk's eyes, placing each one in a separate container. The deadly gaze was potentially still potent, even in death. He couldn't risk exposure.

Task complete, he banished the containers back into his pouch. Only then did he allow himself to look upon his vanquished foe.

It was a magnificent creature, even in death. Sleek and powerful as its scales shimmered in the magical light. Lucas ran a hand along its flank, slightly surprised at the smoothness of the scales.

On a whim, he sent a beam of pure cold at the Basilisk's tail, expecting to see the scales frost over, to crack and shatter under the onslaught.

But nothing happened. The scales remained pristine, unblemished.

Frowning, Lucas tried again, this time with a Frostfire Beam, a spell capable of piercing magical resistance slightly. Still, the scales held firm, unscathed by the attack.

It was only when he channeled the spell through the Elemental Sphere, pouring all his power into the strike, that he saw a result. A single scale cracked, a hairline fracture marring its surface.

Lucas stepped back with his brow furrowed in thought. The Basilisk's hide was resistant to magic, incredibly so. Even in death, it retained its power. Though whether this resistance would last as it bled out was still a question. Regardless, he would have to harvest this Basilisk pretty soon, otherwise it could spoil.

His gaze then drifted to the statue of Salazar Slytherin, looming over the Chamber like a watchful sentinel. The Basilisk had slithered out from its mouth, and he wondered if there was anything useful back there.

Well, he had enough time tonight to go through everything…