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mickume
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alt_potterverse

Dataset card Data Studio Files
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Tom shook his head. "He went upstairs. The basilisk has difficulty with that. We should watch that entrance too!" He turned to Hermione, concern in his eyes. "Hermione... you do not need to fight. There are more than enough of us, plus the basilisk. Please don’t risk yourself. You have already done your part."
"Tom, they saw the basilisk!" Hermione exclaimed. Her eyes were wide as she grabbed the edges of his robes. "They saw it! They will come back with a rooster. I guarantee it!"
His face turned pale. "You’re right," he said. He turned to his allies. "Target it first. If you see one, kill it on sight." He gazed around the great hall, scowling as he realized that there was no room large enough to hide the basilisk. "I’m going to secure it in one of the rooms." He hissed a command at the basilisk and opened the door to the halls, the beast trailing behind him, as the others remained in the great hall to cast wards making it difficult for Malfoy, Lestrange, and others to enter.
Hermione turned to Caractacus Burke. "If you know anything else about secret entrances to this castle, now would be an excellent time to tell us!"
Burke shook his head. "I don’t, my lady. I swear I don’t."
"You know, we hold the castle," Regulus remarked. "It may not feel like it, since we did not have to fight much at all for it, but we do. We have the advantage when they return. Let us not forget that."
Tom emerged from the hallway quickly, entering the great hall. His sharp gaze flitted across the room. He noted the presence of three balconies that overlooked the place. "It’s safe," he said. "I put up a ward that opens only with Parseltongue, so that wretch who fled upstairs cannot sneak in and kill my basilisk. I don’t think he is here anymore, anyway. I think he left too." He breathed deeply, calming himself. "All right. Some of us need to stand guard outside, and kill any chickens that they may bring with them. Here is what we’ll do when they return...." He gathered his allies close and explained his plan to them.
The group of witches and wizards watching from the ramparts noticed the approach first, as expected. They studied the incoming attackers, counting and identifying them as well as they could from a distance. Fawley, who had been delegated to this task because he was small and thin, Apparated into the great hall and made his report to Tom, who sat in the high seat as a conqueror.
"They’re coming!" he said breathlessly. "Malfoy and Lestrange themselves are at the head of the group! I know it’s Malfoy; he has an unnatural eye. It’s the two of them, Crabbe, Goyle, Selwyn, the three knights we saw today, Lord Parkinson, and"—he glanced guiltily at Lady Druella—"Rosier."
The older woman’s lips thinned. "My brother has made his choice."
"Lord Lucius isn’t there?"
"We didn’t see him."
Tom found that interesting, but he dismissed the thought for now. "Any roosters?"
"It looks as though Rosier is carrying one," Fawley dutifully reported.
"Very well. You know what to do."
Fawley Disapparated at once, returning to his post.
Tom turned to his allies. "Scatter. They will break through the wards, enter the great hall, and then...." He smiled darkly.
As Hermione hurried away with him, she tried to banish the nagging worry. This seemed far too obvious a trap to her. She hoped she was wrong.
The defenders atop the roof shot spells down at the crowd, but they were not striking anyone. The attackers had quickly determined that they were being cursed from above and put up a collective shield charm to make it very difficult for any spell to pierce except the most powerful and lethal—and those took a lot of magical energy out of the caster.
The wards that Tom’s people had put on the castle walls were now visible in the light, appearing as blurs with burned edges as they weakened under the onslaught. On the ground, Lestrange hooted in delight as he and Malfoy shot spells together that made the entire ward dissolve before their eyes.
"We have them right where we want them!" Lestrange chortled. "From what Rookwood and the others said, the half-blood brought his entire "army’ with him! We can crush them with one stroke!"
Beside him, Armand Malfoy was less jubilant. His magical eye, a glass globe of solid red that did not even feign resemblance to a human eye, swiveled around in the socket, as if detecting something that ordinary vision could not. As the wizards—and they were all wizards—burst through the doors and rushed into the great hall, he held back.
Hermione and Tom had retreated to the room where he had the basilisk. It was very unsettling to be this close to the monster that had Petrified her, but it was blindfolded, and Tom had it firmly under his command. She told herself that over and over as she waited.
Peering through the cracked door, Hermione watched in disbelief as almost everyone burst into the castle, suspecting nothing. There was Lestrange, lurking just behind Rosier, who held a chicken in hand. Were they really this stupid? Evidently they are, she thought. She glanced around, looking for Malfoy. Where was he?
"But where are they?" said one of the attackers, mirroring Hermione’s thoughts. With that, the possibility collectively dawned on them that they had walked into a trap. Several of them exchanged uneasy glances and drew their wands nervously.
Tom gave Hermione a nod. She knew what that meant. Drawing back, she looked determinedly at the floor.
From the balconies two levels above the ground floor, Tom’s allies—including those from the rooftops, who had retreated and joined their friends when the wards went down—emerged, drew their wands, and began to send curses into the crowd below. The great doors creaked shut, trapping the invaders—all but Armand Malfoy.
Screams pierced the air, and two of the attackers fell immediately. The ones who remained standing attempted to fight back, but Tom’s people had the high ground and could easily slip back to the guard rooms that ended in the balconies on which they stood.
"Fools!" Lestrange exclaimed, furious. "You told me that he had brought a basilisk!"
"I saw it!" whined one of the knights. "I know it was that!"
"Then it’s lurking somewhere! Rosier"—he glared at the wizard holding the rooster—"you find it! Get that thing crowing now. Repeatedly."
"Yes, my lord," he blubbered as he attempted to charm the animal to crow.
In the room, Tom swore under his breath and cast a spell to block out sounds—but he needn’t have. From one of the balconies, Harry Potter cast a spell that struck the rooster dead.
"Chicken for supper?" he called out gleefully.
Rosier snarled in outrage, dropping the rooster. He sent a curse back at the balcony. Harry and his companions—Sirius, Regulus, and Druella—backed away, avoiding the spell.
A sudden urge took her. "Brother!" Druella called out. "Lay down your wand and we will let you live!"
Rosier took one look at Rodolphus Lestrange, whose face was contorted in fury that his castle was overrun, that his quick-and-easy weapon against the basilisk was gone, and that two of his people had already fallen. He thought about the Carrows, who had been thrown to the wolves—or the snakes and dogs, he thought—by the man they had sworn to serve.
There was no choice. He dropped his wand and raised his hands. Coldly satisfied, Lady Druella cast a spell to petrify her brother. He dropped to the floor.
"Try not to let them kill him," she muttered. "I realize they might do it anyway."
"Surely they have better things to do," Harry remarked.
"Here it comes!" Sirius suddenly exclaimed. "Everyone, look down!"
The doors leading to the main hallway creaked open. From the darkness, two pairs of eyes gleamed, one pair set at the height of a man’s eyes, small and flashing red, the other much higher, large, bulbous, and yellow.
Two people were dead before they hit the ground. The rest seemed to realize at once what was happening. Pops of Disapparition rent the air as Lestrange’s backups fled.
"Wretched bastard cowards!" he roared, spittle flying from his mouth. He turned to the nearest wizard, Yaxley, and snarled. "Fire-Eye Jinx—now!"
As the basilisk approached, the two wizards kept their eyes fixed upon the ground. They raised their wands and cast the curse.
An unearthly, unnatural reptilian shriek tore through the air as the curses struck the basilisk’s eyes. It opened its jaws, flailing about, knocking its master to the ground by accident as its eyes swelled shut. The creature continued to thrash.
Tom’s breath was knocked out of him. He gasped, daring to glance up—if he looked into an eye, it wouldn’t be a permanent death—and saw what had happened, much to his dismay.
"You can still hear and smell them!" he hissed at the basilisk. "I will fix your eyes—but you must kill them before they kill you first!"
The basilisk was still in pain, but it understood Tom’s logic. Tom propped himself up, attempting to ignore the broken rib that he was pretty sure he had suffered in the fall. The basilisk, its eyes sealed shut from the swelling and the pus that the curse caused the eyes to produce, raised its head, its jaws opening wide.
It lunged for Yaxley. He Apparated away to the other side of the great hall with a pop.
"Get Lestrange!" Tom commanded.
The basilisk turned its head and struck at Lestrange. He ducked aside, narrowly missing its fangs, which dripped with lethal venom.
"Damn you!" the wizard bawled. He flicked his wand. To Tom’s dismay, a cruelly sharp dagger appeared out of nothing and shot toward the basilisk in a gleam of silver. It lodged in the creature’s left nostril, provoking another reptilian shriek. Blood trickled from the wound.
"Kill him!" screamed Tom in Parseltongue.
Lestrange bared his teeth, preparing for another curse, certain that the basilisk’s injuries and pain gave him the advantage.
In the next half-second, the basilisk of Slytherin lunged forward, fangs exposed. The wizard attempted to dart aside—but did not make it in time. The fangs of the creature sank deeply into his chest. A piercing, horrified, disbelieving scream rent the air. Tom roared in delight. In the corner, Yaxley gaped in horror, then Disapparated at once.
The basilisk drew away, preparing for another strike.
Lestrange gasped, his wand clattering to the floor, blood pouring from the mortal wounds. He was quickly losing color. He spat blood onto the stone ground and glared at the basilisk in a final defiance as it lunged for him again.
From the safety of the room, Hermione winced and looked away as the basilisk swallowed the dying wizard whole. If anyone deserves it, he did, she thought, but I do not want to see it.
Clutching his throbbing ribs, Tom emerged into the great hall, where four of his enemies lay dead on the floor. He sneered at Rosier, who lay facedown. He would leave that to Lady Druella, but he would not permit the wizard to go free.
The basilisk coiled up as its master approached. Tom waved his wand, summoning the blindfold he had brought. He covered the creature’s injured eyes before casting the spells to reverse the damage that the Fire-Eye Jinx had wrought, then put the basilisk into its usual magical sleep.
It’s common for animals to sleep after a meal, he thought smugly. Stepping over the bodies, he turned back to the hallway, from which Hermione and his allies were emerging.
"Malfoy is still out there!" exclaimed Fawley.
"What?" Tom said sharply. "How do you know that?"
"He didn’t come inside with the others. I saw him—he’s still there!"
Tom scowled. "Then he is a fool. Very well. I will take care of this. He won’t be happy to learn that his right-hand man is my basilisk’s dinner!"
He stormed toward the great doors, casting a spell to cause them to open quickly. They scraped against the stone floor, hinges creaking, and finally banged against the walls loudly. Keeping his wand out, Tom glanced quickly from left to right, looking for the old wizard.
"At last we meet face-to-face again," drawled an old, thin, but deathly cold voice. Tom whipped his head around.
Garbed in his signature white, Armand Malfoy emerged from a side room next to the doors. Tom was now outside the keep while Malfoy stood between him and his allies.
Tom noted this and snorted in contempt. "You are surrounded, old man."
Malfoy peered back at him, the red glass orb that served as an eye swiveling. The other, natural eye gleamed scarlet too. "Then I have the audience I desired," he replied.
Tom did not hesitate. He cast a violent, murderous curse in Malfoy’s direction—but the wizard dodged it. It struck a banner hanging inside the castle, setting it aflame. Tom’s people rushed to extinguish the fire.
The effort to cast the spell had exhausted Tom’s magical reserve. His chest was throbbing now from the broken rib. He bent slightly, grimacing in pain. Malfoy smirked and flicked his wand at Tom.
Hermione shouted in dismay as a jet of green light struck him. His eyes widened in shock, and he toppled to the ground.
"No!" exclaimed several voices from inside the castle, Harry’s and Sirius’s among them. Hermione closed her eyes. Tom would be all right—more or less—but now every one of their allies would know his secret.
"That was embarrassingly simple," Malfoy chortled to the group, taking an ironic bow. "I am so sorry to spoil your ill-gotten "victory.’" He smirked at Hermione. "You’d best hurry back to your Muggle cousin now, poor Mudblood widow. You have no place among us."
"No, you have no place among us!" shouted Harry, his voice thick. Hermione was surprised. She had not known he felt anything for Tom at all....
Tom was stirring. Hermione noticed his movement first, and then several of the others gasped, raising their hands to cover their open mouths.
Tom heaved his breath and got to his feet, wobbling, his eyes flashing bright red. He glared at Malfoy. "Is that all you have, usurper?" he choked out, clutching his chest.
Malfoy gaped at Tom with his one natural eye, taking in the truth. He glanced warily at the occupied castle and the many faces, variously jubilant, grimly satisfied, and enraged.
"I must admit, you have genuinely impressed me, half-blood," Malfoy bit out, though it plainly infuriated him to have to speak the words. "You are smarter than I thought. Perhaps you should take on a new title," he mocked. "Flight from death,’ perhaps... though it is more elegant in my tongue."
"I don’t want to hear anything in your foul tongue!" Tom snarled. He attempted to catch Malfoy’s eye so that he could perform Legilimency. Malfoy understood exactly what he was attempting and made a point of evading Tom’s gaze.
"What do you want?" Tom growled.
"You are not going to attempt to kill me?"
"It’s pointless. I know what you have done, you filthy accursed robber lord." Hate dripped from his words. "You will have to find another lackey now, though."
Malfoy sneered back. "Lestrange had all but outlived his usefulness, fool that he was. I am better off keeping my own counsel anyway."
"Is that what you think?" Tom said. His chest was throbbing in pain. He really needed to heal it... but if he could keep Malfoy talking for long enough, perhaps he could regenerate his magical power enough to cast something very violent, something that would destroy Malfoy’s body....
Malfoy was enjoying the young wizard’s suffering. "I have had one truly useful confidant in my life, Riddle."
"Oh?" Tom snarled. "Who? Not your late wife, of course. I know what your kind think of witches. Not Lord Abraxas, and apparently not Lestrange—"
"Salazar Slytherin."
Tom’s mouth fell open, but he instantly shut it. His eyes flashed red. "You liar," he roared, though it hurt his lungs to do it. "How dare you!"
"Oh no, it is quite true," said Malfoy, grinning maliciously. "You have heard of how Castle Draconis was stormed eighty years ago? You know that Slytherin designed it, correct?"
Tom’s breath hitched in his chest. His eyes widened. "No—"
Malfoy was enjoying this. "Yes," he said repressively. "Slytherin vanished from the British Isles after his fight with the other Founders of Hogwarts. No one from his native land knew where he went... but I do."
"No." Tom seemed to realize what Malfoy was going to say before he said it.
"How do you think I learned of the secret entrance to Gryffindor’s castle? Slytherin came to Normandy because we had the proper attitudes about Mudbloods and half-bloods."
"No!" Tom crumpled to the ground, falling on his knees, unable to support his weight.
Inside the castle, everyone gasped. Harry covered his mouth with his hand. Hermione cried out.
"Salazar Slytherin was my one true friend and ally," Malfoy said, his one eye gleaming. "Slytherin urged us to travel to Britain with the Muggle William and told us exactly how to take control of this barbarous population. Think on that as you sit in this castle, half-blood!" He turned, and in a whirl of white robes, Disapparated.
Tom trudged inside the castle, his gaze cast miserably at the ground. His chest was throbbing in pain and his breaths were short. No one knew quite what to say. What had been a joyous, triumphant victory free of any casualties on their side was now dreadfully hollow.