Chapter 144: The Vanished Basilisk Fang

No one expected the phoenix to appear here, but after seeing it, everyone sighed in relief.

Because the phoenix is an extremely rare magical creature, and in Britain there is only one—Fawkes, who belongs to Dumbledore.

This phoenix is Fawkes; its presence means Dumbledore already knows about the basilisk.

Moreover, the phoenix’s tears are the best healing potion, effortlessly healing the burns on Hagrid’s skin from the basilisk’s blood… and also the wound on Lupin’s head.

But Silven thought even if the phoenix hadn’t come, Lupin would’ve been fine; the three-headed dog might lack the basilisk’s variety of attacks and can’t fly like a dragon, but in terms of thick hide and durability, both the basilisk and the dragon rank below it.

In “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,” Newt Scamander described the three-headed dog as a moving hill—not only because of its size, but because its hide was so hard it felt like facing a mountain.

Even venom lethal to giants would only make the three-headed dog drowsy for a few days at most.

In comparison, Lupin actually preferred the phoenix’s song; its sound was so beautiful it instantly swept away some shadow in Lupin’s heart, sending him into deep sleep.

Silven studied Fawkes curiously, but the great bird still disliked him as before, landing directly on the goalpost, far away from him.

Yet at that moment, Silven suddenly noticed a tattered object on the ground beneath the phoenix.

As he drew closer, Silven’s eyebrows lifted slightly, and he immediately stepped forward to pick it up.

But before he could do anything, Professor Sprout’s voice came from behind.

“Oh, isn’t that the Sorting Hat? Why is it here?”

“You’re mistaken, Professor,” Silven blinked. “It’s my school cap—I turned it into an umbrella to block the basilisk’s blood, and now it’s ruined.”

“Actually, your hat is right here,” Professor Flitwick said, holding up a more shredded scrap of fabric, unrecognizable as anything.

“I tried, but I can’t repair it at all.”

“Is this… my hat?”

“Of course—or just take a look; you’d certainly recognize the Sorting Hat.”

Reluctantly, Silven pulled his hand from behind and glanced at it.

“Oh dear, it really is the Sorting Hat—I misjudged it just now.” He reluctantly handed the hat to Professor Sprout.

“But why is the Sorting Hat here?”

“Perhaps Fawkes brought it,” Professor Sprout said, not giving it much thought. “Mr. Ollivander, could you please return to the castle and inform Professor Snape of what happened here?”

Professor Sprout merely wanted Silven to return to the castle; telling Snape was just an afterthought.

He shouldn’t have been here in the first place—only because the situation was urgent did the professors have no time to send him back.

Now that the matter is resolved, they naturally wouldn’t let him stay.

Of course, Silven didn’t refuse; he glanced once more at the Sorting Hat before leaving.

No sooner had he gone than a crack split open along the brim of the Sorting Hat.

“Thank you, Pomona. I felt I was just about to die—only just barely escaped, had I been taken.”

Professor Sprout, busy inspecting the basilisk, didn’t understand its meaning, only nodded. “You’re right—if Fawkes had dropped you beside the three-headed dog, it might have torn you apart.”

“I’ll return you to the Headmaster’s office, but it might take a little while.”

“Of course, Pomona,” the Sorting Hat paused, then added, “but please deliver me back yourself—not to any student.”

“I will.”

Meanwhile, Silven had already returned to the castle and told Snape, who stood at the entrance, everything that had happened.

Upon hearing that Fawkes the phoenix was also present, Snape didn’t hesitate—he ran out immediately.

He actually ran, sprinting—Silven had never seen him act so undignified.

Professor Caradoc Bubbling, who taught Muggle Studies, was curious about what had happened outside; in good spirits, Silven stood in the entrance hall and described the scene to her.

“It was so brutal…” Silven painted the scene vividly. “Hagrid held the basilisk’s head steady, giving the three-headed dog the chance to tear into its body…”

Soon, other professors gathered around; even Professor Sinistra, who taught Astronomy, came over and stood nearby, listening intently…

“I say Hagrid and the three-headed dog worked perfectly together—basilisk blood everywhere, scales scattered on the ground, every breath reeking of thick, foul stench…”

Silven was still speaking enthusiastically when a piercing shriek suddenly rang out from outside, cutting him off instantly…

“Where are the basilisk’s fangs?”

“The gall is gone too!”

“And the eyes—the huge eyes, where did they go?”

The voice sounded like Snape’s—how uncouth, shouting so loudly at night, disturbing others’ sleep?

“That’s right—the basilisk was killed by Hagrid and the three-headed dog together,” Silven finished the rest, then made an excuse and hurried away.

Minutes later, Snape returned like an angry bat, pacing into the entrance hall and glancing left and right frantically.

“Where is Silven Ollivander?” he asked in a low voice.

“Back in his dormitory,” Professor Sinistra said. “After such a terrifying event, the boy must be frightened.”

“I think so too,” Professor Bubbling said. “He was excited at first, but once the thrill faded, he probably felt afraid… his face turned quite pale afterward.”

Snape’s face darkened, and he immediately turned to go upstairs.

But just then, Dumbledore walked in from outside.

“Excellent, Severus, you’re here.”

“Dumbledore?” Snape turned. “I thought you wouldn’t return until tomorrow.”

“I realized halfway that if McLain had an emergency, he’d use the Two-way Mirror, not write a letter,” Dumbledore said. “So I immediately understood someone didn’t want me staying at the school.”

“You realized it just in time,” Snape said coolly.

“I hope I haven’t missed too much,” Dumbledore said. “Come with me—Minerva has already taken Potter, Weasley, and Granger to my office. I believe they know exactly what happened tonight.”

These words carried a certain magic; Snape instantly forgot his original intent and followed Dumbledore to the Headmaster’s office.

Meanwhile, Silven hadn’t returned to the common room; when he reached the second floor, he met Professor McGonagall and was forcibly taken to the hospital wing.

With him were Harry and Ron; Harry looked fine, but Ron was in bad shape—he was pale as death, stumbling as he walked, no one knew what had happened.

Fortunately, he was still conscious; it didn’t seem like anything serious.

The group arrived at the hospital wing; Madam Pomfrey, following Professor McGonagall’s instructions, first checked Harry’s condition, confirmed he was unharmed, and then McGonagall took him away.

Ron didn’t go with them; his condition was worse than Harry’s, and Madam Pomfrey placed him on a bed against the wall.

(End of Chapter)