Chapter 143: The Restored Blank Pages

Silven regretted it—he shouldn’t have told Hagrid that Fang was in danger, or perhaps he shouldn’t have said it while standing beside Fang.

As a result, Fang panicked immediately, scenting Hagrid’s odor, and bolted toward him.

That wasn’t the problem—after all, Silven had intended for Fang to help Hagrid—but he hadn’t expected Fang to drag him along.

There was no time to react; Silven felt his body grow light, then was snatched up and flung onto Fang’s back.

Then Fang began sprinting full speed; to avoid being thrown off, Silven kept his head down and clung tightly to the coarse fur along the three-headed dog’s back.

As for whether he’d soon face the Basilisk face-to-face, honestly, Silven couldn’t think about it anymore.

After all, he was twenty feet up, and with Fang’s current speed, a fall might be no better than being stared at by the Basilisk.

The howling wind whipped past his ears, making it hard to open his eyes.

But soon he heard other sounds—Hagrid’s roars and Riddle’s furious curses.

For some reason, Riddle’s voice this time sounded different—less rational, more volatile and irritable.

It felt just like the Voldemort wraith he’d encountered in first year, when the unicorn had torn off a sliver of its soul, and it had shrieked hysterically without end.

But besides Hagrid and the Basilisk, Silven heard another sound… Professor Flitwick, who had clearly cast a spell on the Basilisk.

“Dazzle!”

Then Silven heard a cry of agony.

It was the Blinding Hex!

Silven cautiously opened his eyes, though he’d also summoned the unicorn in advance.

Through the unicorn’s blue body, he saw the Basilisk writhing on the ground—strangely, the screams coming from its mouth were Riddle’s.

But Fang didn’t care; it had seen with its own eyes this thing coiled around Hagrid, trying to bite him, only barely stopped when Hagrid pried its jaws open.

All three of Fang’s heads reached the same conclusion: it was tormenting Hagrid…

Fang grew enraged, lunging forward, all three mouths opening wide to bite into the Basilisk’s body.

“Crack…”

Silven heard three sharp, crisp sounds; the Basilisk’s hard scales shattered like cookies beneath the three-headed dog’s jaws.

The Basilisk groaned in pain, black blood gushing violently from the wounds, splattering onto the grass and instantly withering the plants into shriveled clumps.

Fortunately, Silven reacted quickly, snatching his hat and transforming it into a large umbrella, sparing himself from being drenched in Basilisk blood.

But the hat was ruined—punctured by over a dozen holes.

“It’s you, Silven Ollivander—I smell your scent!”

The Basilisk turned its head; its eyes seemed veiled by something, but when Silven moved his wrist, he felt no trace of petrification.

Clearly, the Blinding Hex had worked on the Basilisk.

“What exactly are you…” Silven spoke only after confirming his safety: “Should I call you the Basilisk, or Tom Riddle?”

“I am Voldemort!” came Riddle’s voice from the Basilisk’s mouth.

“It really is you, Tom Riddle,” Silven frowned. “I never imagined you’d turn yourself into this monstrous thing.”

When he’d first seen the Basilisk in the entrance hall, he’d felt it—the Basilisk was Riddle, Riddle had become the Basilisk.

Earlier, he’d wondered why Riddle, having lost three-quarters of his soul and his Horcrux diary, would return to Hogwarts at all.

Now he understood—he’d come for the Basilisk.

A dark creature artificially created like the Basilisk had a fragile soul; for Riddle to possess its body wasn’t surprising.

But what was strange was why Riddle had done it.

After escaping the diary, he was no longer a Horcrux—he’d become something akin to a new physical form.

If Riddle had been patient enough, he might have found another lingering wraith and someday resurrected two Voldemorts.

If that had been the case, they might not have been able to defeat two Voldemorts.

Yet Riddle hadn’t done that—he’d rushed to give himself a new body… in other words, he’d turned himself into a new Horcrux.

Worse than a Horcrux even—Horcruxes were indestructible, but this one couldn’t even withstand Fang’s bite.

“Shut up! This is Salazar Slytherin’s greatest masterpiece, his most powerful weapon left for me!” Riddle hissed, his voice now more serpentine than ever.

The Basilisk-Riddle tried to lunge and bite Silven, but it was still held fast by Fang; no matter how hard it strained, it couldn’t reach Silven, only tearing its own wounds further.

Another gush of Basilisk blood spurted out; through the wound, Silven could faintly glimpse the white bones within.

Realizing it couldn’t reach Silven, the Basilisk changed tactics, turning its head and biting down hard on Fang’s leftmost head.

Poison instantly paralyzed Fang’s body, forcing it to loosen its grip.

Freed from restraint, Basilisk-Riddle didn’t flee—it was obsessed, blind to its surroundings, and lunged straight at Silven without hesitation.

“...Kill you… kill you!”

“Bang!” Again it was Hagrid—he swung his wand and knocked out another of the Basilisk’s teeth.

While the Basilisk bit Fang, Hagrid’s fury had reached its peak; he grabbed its head and pounded it relentlessly.

Seeing this, Fang staggered to its feet, shook its head, and resumed tearing at the Basilisk’s body.

It happened too suddenly—Silven lost his balance and tumbled off Fang’s back.

Fortunately, Professor Flitwick waved his wand, and Silven floated gently to the ground.

He pulled Silven aside but didn’t immediately join the fight—perhaps he felt it unnecessary.

Alone against Hagrid and Fang, the Basilisk would have had a good chance—but it faced Hagrid and Fang both wounded and in extreme rage.

After pounding for a while, Hagrid gripped the Basilisk’s jaws with both hands and began pulling them apart; the Basilisk tried to coil around Hagrid, but Fang wouldn’t let go.

“Crack…” The Basilisk’s mouth widened further, its throat emitting agonized moans—now indistinguishable whether it was the Basilisk or Riddle.

“Oh, isn’t this a bit cruel?” Professor Flitwick couldn’t help rubbing his chin.

Yet his gaze never left the Basilisk’s eyes; if the Blinding Hex showed any sign of fading, he’d immediately cast another.

On the other side, Professor Sprout had also stopped; a tangle of green vines and several round objects sank back into the soil and vanished.

It seemed they were no longer needed.

“Crack…” Again that sound—Hagrid seemed determined to break the Basilisk’s lower jaw.

But Fang acted faster; before Hagrid could succeed, Fang had already bitten through the Basilisk’s body and crushed its heart.

With a crash, the Basilisk’s upper body collapsed to the ground, motionless.

“Is it dead?” Professor Flitwick asked.

“I don’t know,” Silven said, stepping forward.

“Oh, come back, Mr. Ollivander!” Professor Sprout gasped, rushing to grab him.

But then, music drifted in from nowhere, halting her.

The sound was ethereal, mysterious, and otherworldly, as if infusing strength into the soul.

The music grew louder as a crimson bird suddenly descended from the sky—large as a peacock, with a long, glittering golden tail.

It was a phoenix.

It sang as it landed on Fang’s left head.

Hearing the phoenix’s song, the once-raging three-headed dog calmed instantly, gently nuzzling the phoenix’s tail before lying down to sleep.

Then the phoenix landed on Hagrid, studying him, finally fixing its gaze on his hands—his hands were smoking.

“Are you hurt?” Silven asked, concerned.

“I don’t think so,” Hagrid had also calmed. “Maybe it was Basilisk blood, but I feel fine—I’ll wash it off later, should be fine.”

Silven saw the phoenix lower its head; something dripped onto Hagrid’s hand, and the smoking stopped instantly.

Phoenix tears.

Silven clenched his lips, fully at ease; while both professors were focused on the phoenix, he had quietly moved to stand before the Basilisk.

Whether the Basilisk was dead didn’t matter—he cared whether Riddle still lived.

Under the bright moonlight, the dead Basilisk seemed to carry a faint, mist-like substance—so thin it was nearly invisible.

Though it was hard to say if this was Riddle, Silven had his own way to verify.

The Horcrux Codex flew over, shielding Silven’s wrist… seconds later, the mist vanished, and the several blank pages on the Codex, once cracked and empty, were visibly healing, restoring to full integrity.

…

(End of Chapter)