Chapter 143: The Restored Blank Page

Silven regretted it—he shouldn't have told Hagrid he was in danger, or perhaps he shouldn't have said it while standing next to Fang.

As a result, Fang immediately panicked, sniffed Hagrid's scent, and dashed over.

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 nonstop; to avoid being thrown off, Silven kept his head down and clung desperately to Fang's coarse fur.

As for whether he'd soon face the Basilisk face-to-face, honestly, Silven couldn't think that far ahead anymore.

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

The howling wind whipped past his ears, making it hard for him 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 irritable and volatile.

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 apparently cast a spell on the Basilisk.

"Stupefy!"

Then Silven heard a cry of agony.

It was the Stunning Spell!

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 furious, lunged forward, and opened all three mouths, biting down on the Basilisk's body.

"Crack…"

Silven heard three sharp, crisp sounds—the Basilisk's hard scales shattered like cookies under the three-headed dog's jaws.

The Basilisk let out a gurgling cry of pain; black blood gushed violently from the wounds, splattering onto the grass, instantly withering the plants into shriveled clumps.

Luckily, Silven reacted quickly, grabbing his hat and transforming it into a large umbrella, avoiding being drenched in Basilisk blood.

But the hat was ruined outright, riddled with a dozen holes from corrosion.

"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.

It seemed the Stunning Spell 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, Silven had wondered: Riddle had lost three-quarters of his soul and his Horcrux diary—why return to Hogwarts at all?

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

A Basilisk, being a dark creature artificially created, had a fragile soul; Riddle taking possession of it was unsurprising.

But what was strange was why Riddle had done it.

After escaping the diary, he was no longer a Horcrux—he'd become another kind of entity, akin to a true self.

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

If that had happened, 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 before.

The Basilisk-Riddle tried to lunge and bite Silven, but it was still held 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 see the pale 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.

Venom instantly paralyzed Fang's body, forcing it to loosen its grip involuntarily.

Freed from restraint, Basilisk-Riddle didn't flee—it was obsessed. It ignored everything around it, lunging blindly at Silven with its mouth wide open.

"... Kill you… kill you!"

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

When the Basilisk bit Fang, Hagrid's rage peaked; 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.

Too sudden—Silven lost his balance and tumbled off Fang's back.

Fortunately, Professor Flitwick waved his wand in time, making Silven float gently to the ground.

He pulled Silven aside but didn't immediately help—perhaps he felt it unnecessary.

Alone against Hagrid and Fang, the Basilisk would have had good odds—but it faced Hagrid and Fang together… and both were in extreme fury, spurred by injury.

Hagrid pounded for a while, then gripped the Basilisk's jaws with both hands and pulled hard left and right; the Basilisk tried to coil around Hagrid, but Fang wouldn't let go.

"Crack…" the Basilisk's mouth stretched wider, its throat emitting agonized screams—now impossible to tell whether it was the Basilisk or Riddle.

"Oh, isn't this a bit cruel?" Professor Flitwick couldn't help rubbing his chin.

Though he said so, his gaze never left the Basilisk's eyes—if the spell 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.

In the current situation, it seems they're no longer needed.

"Crack..." That sound again. Hagrid seemed to want to wrench its jaw off.

Only Fang was a bit more efficient — before that, he had already bitten through the Basilisk's body and crushed its heart.

With a boom, the upper half of the Basilisk slammed onto the ground and stopped moving.

"Is it dead?" Professor Flitwick asked.

"I don't know," Silven said, stepping forward on his own.

"Oh, come back at once, Mr. Ollivander," Professor Sprout was startled and hurriedly moved to grab Silven.

But at that moment, music drifted in from somewhere unknown, making her stop.

The sound was ethereal and otherworldly, as if it could infuse people with strength.

The music grew louder and louder, and a red bird suddenly descended from the sky — as big as a Kong Que, and with a great tail that shimmered with golden light.

It was a phoenix.

Singing, it landed on the head on Fang's left side.

Hearing the phoenix's song, the three-headed dog, which had been quite agitated, quickly calmed down. It carefully nuzzled the phoenix's tail, then lay on the ground and fell asleep.

Then the phoenix landed on Hagrid's body, its gaze examining him, finally settling on Hagrid's hand — his hand was smoking.

"Are you hurt?" Silven asked with concern.

"Probably not," Hagrid had also calmed down, saying: "Maybe I got splashed with snake blood, but I feel all right. A wash later should fix it."

Silven saw the phoenix lower its head, and something dripped onto Hagrid's hand — the smoking stopped at once.

Phoenix tears.

Silven pressed his lips together, fully reassured. While the two professors' attention was fixed on the phoenix, he had already quietly made his way to the Basilisk's body.

Whether the Basilisk was dead or not didn't matter; he cared more about whether Riddle was still alive.

Under the bright moonlight, a layer of something smoke-like seemed to have appeared on the dead Basilisk's body — so faint it was almost imperceptible.

Although it was hard to say whether this was Riddle, Silven had his own way to verify.

The Horcrux Codex flew over, covering Silven's wrist... a few seconds later, the smoke vanished, and several blank pages that had been full of cracks in the codex were now visibly restoring themselves to completeness.

(End of chapter)