Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "You… why are there so many of you here?"
The Drama Club wasn't just the talented older students—there were younger ones too, many of whom Hermione had classes with. Alongside Gryffindors like Seamus and Dean, there were Hufflepuffs like Justin and Ernie, and even first-year Luna from Ravenclaw.
This was the Chamber of Secrets, home to the Basilisk. Why had Ron brought them here? Shouldn't he have gone to fetch the professors?
"No need to worry, your Professor Lockhart is here! You're all safe now!"
Lockhart, unable to hear Parseltongue, saw only a peculiar but safe chamber—no ferocious beasts, no legendary Basilisk. He grinned broadly, already imagining the new tale this would add to his storied career as a legendary adventurer at Hogwarts.
"A well-hidden chamber, clearly modified over time. Rarely visited, vast and dimly lit, which makes it seem eerie—but that's all. I've faced far darker, deeper caves in Albania."
Lockhart maintained his professor-adventurer persona, his award-worthy smile undermined by his insufferable self-praise. Harry just wanted him to shut up.
Catching Harry's glare, Lockhart mistook it for jealousy. But then Harry and Hermione froze, the chattering Drama Club students fell silent, and a sound from the Slytherin statue became unnervingly clear.
"Shh, stay quiet!" Harry whispered, his eyes fixed on the statue's head. Its gaunt, monkey-like face opened its mouth wider and wider, revealing a pitch-black void.
"What's that? Is something hidden inside?" Lockhart asked, startled.
Something stirred in the statue's mouth.
A foul breeze swept through the chamber, like the breath of a beast opening its jaws, watching from the darkness. The petrified Myrtle floated up and down in the stench.
Some younger students struggled to breathe as panic and fear simmered in the silence. They could faintly hear something slithering upward from the statue's depths.
Unrestrained malice enveloped the group, as if it meant to swallow them whole.
Lockhart swallowed hard. It can't really be the Basilisk, can it? He patted Harry's shoulder. "You know this place better—go check it out."
"Sending students to scout? Some professor you are!" Hermione snapped, her voice trembling. "It's the Basilisk! Everyone, close your eyes!"
As her words rang out, the slithering grew louder. From the Slytherin statue's shoulder, two glowing yellow snake eyes appeared. The sound of scales scraping the floor grew clearer, punctuated by occasional thuds. The serpent's tongue hissed, and the stench grew overpowering.
Something was slithering closer, as if to embrace them.
"Basilisk!" Seamus and Dean screamed, eyes clamped shut.
"Run outside! Run!" Hermione's shout echoed through the chamber.
Amid the chaos, the massive Basilisk drew near. Everyone, eyes closed, turned to flee blindly. Lockhart let out a yelp, followed by a dull thud as his body hit a pillar—reminiscent of that night at the Duelling Club when he'd been hit by a spell. This time, he didn't get up.
"Stupefy!"
The incantation boomed like thunder—it was Cedric!
Even with eyes shut, students nearby glimpsed a faint red glow. The spell didn't work, but the Basilisk's enraged hiss seemed to dispel some of the group's panic. A few dared to open their eyes.
Percy's face, lit by the red light, twitched at the corner of his eye.
"Spread out! Hide behind the pillars, and don't look the Basilisk in the eyes!" he called, waving his wand shakily, his voice unsteady.
Judging the Basilisk's position by sound, the older students from each house led their peers to the stone pillars, avoiding its gaze.
Behind their makeshift cover, Harry and Hermione glanced back. In the chaotic half-minute facing the Basilisk, no one seemed hurt—except Lockhart—which brought a sliver of relief.
"I read that Basilisks, like dragons, have scales that weaken spells, but they can't withstand dozens of Stunning Spells," Hermione said, nudging the person beside her. "Charlie, Ron's brother, works with dragons—Ron, you've heard about this, right?"
The rigid touch made her freeze. "Ron?!"
Ron stood stiffly behind the pillar, half his head exposed, eyes wide with terror frozen on his face. He'd locked eyes with the Basilisk unprepared.
"Ron!" Harry's voice trembled, staring into Ron's lifeless eyes. His pale face lacked any trace of color, no longer vibrant or animated.
He looked like a lifelike statue.
Harry's expression went blank, a chilling dread washing over him, his mind empty.
"He's not dead—his heart's still beating!" Hermione's shaky voice pulled him from despair.
Behind other pillars, Percy and Cedric's groups had losses too. They noticed their petrified classmates were rigid but alive.
"Percy, Roger, stay hidden! The Basilisk's gaze petrifies but doesn't kill. We'll take turns firing Stunning Spells—don't look it in the eyes!" Cedric called firmly.
"Stupefy!"
A chorus of spells rang out, a barrage of Stunning Spells shooting from behind the pillars, hitting the Basilisk from two angles. The Drama Club lacked formal combat training, their coordination born from rehearsal teamwork. They understood Cedric's plan but didn't grasp staggered attacks.
When they all leaned out to cast, Roger Davies and his Ravenclaw group locked eyes with the Basilisk. After firing their spells, they froze in place.
Harry and the others caught a side glimpse of the Basilisk's true form: dark green-black, its shimmering scales glinting dully, thicker than an oak trunk, with a flattened head and gleaming, venomous fangs.
The Basilisk was massive, and nearly every Stunning Spell hit its mark. Some struck its head or belly, slowing its movements; others hit its back, where the scales absorbed the magic like water splashing on stone.
"The Stunning Spells are working—aim for its head!" Cedric directed.
The chamber echoed with low incantations, the air thick with the creature's stench. Another volley of Stunning Spells fired, and the beast let out an angry hiss, its iron-like tail lashing as it sluggishly lunged toward them.
Harry felt the chamber floor tremble, his face paling. "This isn't enough. The Stunning Spells won't stop it in time—it'll reach us before it's knocked out, and then Ron's in real danger."
"What do we do?" Hermione whispered. "We can't just hide and cast spells. Someone needs to distract it… but that's too dangerous."
"Someone has to take that risk…"
Suddenly, someone bolted from behind a pillar, charging toward the Basilisk.
It was Neville!
Everyone watched, stunned, as the chubby boy, eyes tightly shut, rushed forward blindly but fearlessly. His clumsy movements carried an unexpected bravery. When he sensed he was close enough, he veered to another pillar, fumbling his way to safety.
The Basilisk turned, slithering toward Neville.
"Stupefy!"
Cedric seized the moment, rallying another volley.
The red flashes sank into the Basilisk's body. The spells didn't knock it out, but the impact enraged it further, its massive form writhing in the dust, closing in on the small student.
Neville, not the most athletic, tripped over himself and crashed to the floor.
Scrambling up, he opened his eyes to orient himself—and met the Basilisk's yellow gaze. His body stiffened, and a swipe of its tail sent him flying.
The Drama Club's second-in-command hit the ground, silent.
Harry and Hermione stood frozen, the club members in stunned silence. Neville was quiet, often overlooked, but always dependable in a pinch—just like now.
Between the rows of coiled serpent pillars, the Basilisk reared its head, hissing at the students. It smashed a pillar, dust clouding the air, its massive form growing hazy but more menacing.
"Hiss…"
The Basilisk surged forward, its venomous fangs chilling.
"Stupefy!"
Cedric's voice rang out again as he darted between pillars, wand raised.
Like Neville, he used himself as bait, drawing the Basilisk's attention to buy time for the others.
The students behind the pillars fired their wands, Stunning Spells raining like meteors, enveloping the creature in red light.
Cedric's Quidditch-honed agility let him hold out longer, giving the group an extra round of shots. Three minutes later, the Basilisk's tail struck him. He wasn't petrified, but his bones cracked audibly, blood spilling from his nose and mouth.
The Basilisk felt hopeless.
"Stupefy!"
A brilliant red light flared—Harry this time, moving with equal agility, unleashing a Stunning Spell fueled by all his magic.
The spell struck the Basilisk's head, and the pained creature lowered its gaze to the tiny human.
An unspoken rhythm formed. For the next half-hour, students took turns darting from cover, circling the Basilisk at a safe distance to give others a chance to attack.
First Gryffindor seniors, then other upperclassmen, and eventually even Slytherin's Marcus Flint charged out.
The chant of spells echoed in the chamber, the red glow of courage unyielding.
"Stupefy!"
Hermione cast her twenty-seventh Stunning Spell, about to duck back behind the pillar, when she noticed something. The Basilisk's raised head swayed slightly, its movements sluggish. Its flicking tongue drooped, its massive body stilled, and its yellow eyes grew unfocused.
The colossal creature crashed to the ground, kicking up dust and shaking the floor.
Sobs broke out in the chamber.
Behind the pillars, only younger students remained. The younger witches' taut nerves snapped, some collapsing weakly, others clinging to classmates, shoulders trembling.
Hermione fought the urge to slump against the wall and sleep, pushing past her fear to approach the Basilisk. "A few of you, help me gather the injured."
From a nearby pillar, two voices answered shakily, "We'll help."
Marietta and Cho, Ravenclaw girls, had been shielded during the first volleys. After Neville's charge, they'd joined the attack and held on until now.
Those with strength left hurried forward, avoiding the unconscious Basilisk to carry out those struck by its tail. The injured lay in a neat row, the petrified students stood rigidly behind cover—all still alive.
For wizards, broken bones were minor. As long as they weren't dead, Madam Pomfrey could fix them.
The survivors exchanged glances, tear-streaked faces mixed with dried trails, some smiling, exhaling deeply in relief.
"What a spectacular adventure! I can't help but applaud you all!"
Gilderoy Lockhart's voice rang out behind them.
Disheveled, he stood, dusting himself off, flashing his signature grin and gleaming teeth.
"Professor… Lockhart?" The students stared, dumbfounded.
"But your adventure ends here, children!" he said cheerfully. "Now, Professor Lockhart will finish the story. I'll take this Basilisk back to the school, tell them I arrived too late—though I subdued the creature, I couldn't save everyone. And you? You were driven mad by Slytherin's dark magic."
"What does that mean?" Marietta asked, confused.
"Oh, dear, it means I'll wipe your memories and write this thrilling tale into my next book, as the legendary adventure of Gilderoy Lockhart."
Lockhart, patient and smug, couldn't resist boasting to the exhausted young witches and wizards.
Hermione snapped, furious. "You stole all your legendary feats? You're a fraud!"
"Now, now, don't say that, dear. Readers prefer a dashing hero like me over some grizzled American wizard who saved a village from werewolves. Or that gap-toothed hag who banished a banshee…"
Lockhart shook his head, smug. "My work isn't easy, mind you. I track these people down, learn how they did it, then cast Obliviate to ensure they forget—without raising suspicion. My Memory Charms are something to be proud of."
Hermione shot Cho a glance, both quietly reaching for their wands.
"I thought I'd never deal with them again, but thanks to the Visumirror, I'll track them down and charm their memories. This time, it's easier—I'm at the scene."
Lockhart pointed his wand at them. "I advise against doing anything foolish. A group of drained students can't defeat a professor."
The two girls froze.
"Now, say goodbye to your memories."