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HP: Bloodraven Chapter 176 - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Robbed Goods (IV)
🕑 Added 2025-06-01 19:23:19 +0000 UTCThe giant serpent twisted violently, its long body thrashing against the stone floor. Its head whipped from side to side, striking walls, statues, and anything within reach, like it was in some kind of agonizing pain.
Harry, blindfolded and standing at the back of the chamber, stiffened at the thrashing sounds. But he did not panic—not when the greatest wizard in the world was standing beside him.
But then something unexpected happened. His eyes flew wide, and he clutched his head with both hands, as if struck by a sudden, blinding headache.
“Aaagh—!”
It was the sound of a loud cry. He wasn’t exactly hearing it with his ears, but rather, it echoed directly inside his head.
Dumbledore’s eyes darted toward him, noticing the sudden change. “Harry... are you all right?”
“I... I hear something,” Harry groaned, pressing his hands to his temples. “It’s in pain... it’s crying for help.”
Newt, standing close by, gave him a knowing look. “Fascinating…” He didn’t look the least bit concerned—more intrigued than anything. “Could it be coming from the Basilisk?”
Harry turned his head slightly at the comment, though the blindfold over his eyes made it pointless. Still, he nodded. “Yes. It’s definitely the same snake voice I heard earlier… but now, I feel more than just its voice, sir. I don’t know how to describe it.”
Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully and looked ahead. Maverick floated in the air, his presence radiating pressure as the basilisk writhed at the base of the statue.
Harry was still groaning now and then, the pleading echoing over and over like a desperate heartbeat pounding inside his mind.
“Descendant of mine old liege... bid him cease. Bid this master of the castle's contract stay his hand... I am no foe... I am the guardian of this stronghold...”
The voice was deep and full of pain. And Harry wasn’t just hearing it, he was feeling it too. Maybe it was because of the Parseltongue running through his magic, but the serpent’s emotions were pouring straight into his mind. Fear. Sadness. Desperation.
He understood it for what it was. Maverick had already started training him in the basics of the mind arts, but even with that limited knowledge, Harry knew that what he was feeling now wasn’t normal.
However, knowing didn’t help. Even as his instincts warned him, the feeling grew stronger. The sorrow in the serpent’s voice felt too real. Slowly, against his better judgment, sympathy began to swell in his chest. He couldn’t help it anymore.
He stumbled forward. “Headmaster, it’s saying it’s the guardian beast,” he said quickly. “It says it’s not a threat... that it serves the castle. It’s begging me to make Professor Maverick stop.”
Dumbledore did not made any attempts at stoping Harry’s little movements. He glanced to newt and they both nodded as if silently agreeing to something.
“Mr. Potter, are you sure the Basilisk is asking for your help?” asked Newt.
Harry nodded, gritting his teeth as another scream rang through his head. “It keeps repeating it... over and over...”
Dumbledore’s eyes gleamed. “Perhaps our earlier assumptions were mistaken. But... we still cannot afford to ignore precautions when dealing with such a dangerous creature,” he said, almost to himself.
The basilisk wailed again, its body folding against the statue as if trying to disappear into the stone. Its great golden eyes flicked back and forth—not with rage, but fear.
Harry couldn’t take it anymore. His hand shot up, and he shouted, “Professor—STOP! You’re hurting it!”
His childlike voice rang through the chamber, echoing off the walls and bringing a momentary silence to the space.
Maverick turned at the sound, and glanced over his shoulder. His brow rose a little seeing Harry heading his way, still blindfolded, arms stretched out in front like he was feeling his way forward. He then glanced further back and saw the two old geezers just standing there, doing absolutely nothing.
Harry's not stupid enough to walk blind toward a giant snake... right? Maybe. Probably not. Then again—maybe something is making him move.
Maverick’s mind raced while watching the kid inch forward slowly. There was only one explanation for Harry’s strange behavior. His eyes narrowed in thought before he turned his attention back to the massive serpent pinned under the weight of his magic.
He raised his hand, made a quick gesture with his fingers, then clenched it into a fist. In the next moment, the ground beneath the serpent rippled at first, then rose like liquid, swirling up along its coiled body toward its head. As it reached the top, the flowing earth split and solidified, forming two thick rings—one sealing over its glowing eyes, the other clamping tightly around its mouth.
“Potter,” he called out while lowering himself to the ground. “You can take off the blindfold.”
He gestured to the two lazy geezers lingering in the back, beckoning them to come closer as well. The Basilisk’s eyes were sealed shut, its mouth bound tight, and its entire body was now frozen under the pressure of Maverick’s magic. He wasn’t taking any chances, nor was he about to release the serpent just because little Potter was suddenly showing a weird sympathy for the beast.
Harry tugged off the blindfold the moment Maverick gave the word, but the sight that greeted him rooted him to the spot.
Gulp!
Slowly, he tilted his head up, his eyes climbing over coils of gleaming green-black scales, past the ridged spine and down the vast length of a creature too massive to be real.
He swallowed another dry lump, now fully taking in the creature.
"Merlin…" he whispered, taking an unconscious step back—only to bump straight into Newt and Dumbledore, who had silently walked up behind him. The two older wizards had their eyes open as well, quietly taking in the sight of the terrifying yet majestic beast.
The basilisk.
It was enormous. Even bound and pressed down by layers of magic, it still loomed like a living mountain—a coiled mass of emerald scales, old magic, and raw, ancient power.
Newt’s mouth parted in awe. His eyes glistened, as if he were gazing at something far more personal than just a rare beast.
“I’ve studied nearly every known magical creature still living,” he murmured. “But this... this is something entirely different. Extraordinary.”
He took a step forward without even realizing it, one hand slowly lifting as if drawn to make contact—but Maverick moved quickly, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
“Careful... Unless you want to get pancaked against the floor,” he said. “My magic’s the only thing keeping it from lunging right now.”
Newt blinked, realizing his brief lapse in composure. “Apologies, Maverick. Old habits, you see,” he said with a sheepish smile, then stepped back.
“I don’t think it’s going to attack us, Professor,” Harry said suddenly. His voice no longer trembled. He was looking at the basilisk now with a strange focus. Like he understood something the others didn’t.
Maverick, Dumbledore, and Newt turned toward him.
“I mean… it’s telling me it won’t harm us,” Harry added, tapping his temple, “or anyone who’s a contractor of the castle. Even if someone speaks Parseltongue and commands it otherwise.”
“Contractor?” Maverick raised an eyebrow and looked from Harry to the basilisk, then over at Dumbledore.
“I believe,” Dumbledore said slowly, “the serpent is referring to Hogwarts staff, Professor Caesar.”
“Right,” Maverick murmured. “Makes sense.”
Then he turned back to Harry.
“Ask it this, Potter: was it responsible for a student’s death fifty years ago? And also, if anyone else speaking Parseltongue came into the Chamber before you in the last hundred years.”
Harry nodded and turned toward the snake, speaking in Parseltongue—sharp hissing sounds that echoed eerily through the chamber. But this time, the Basilisk didn’t hiss back. It didn’t move its mouth at all—only gave a slow, deliberate nod.
After a few moments, Harry scratched the back of his head. “Uh… so, apparently, even if you can’t speak Parseltongue, you can still talk to it by… connecting with its magic. That’s what it told me. Just ask it directly, and it’ll answer.”
Maverick, Newt, and Dumbledore all looked at each other—and immediately understood.
The three of them extended their magic toward the basilisk. It was a method of magical telepathic communication, similar to dipping into another’s thoughts, much like how Legilimency worked—but what they were doing relied solely on raw magic, with no spell involved.
Of course, no ordinary wizard is capable of this, nor can they control magic well enough to do it. Only elite great mages and archmages are capable of such a feat.
Finally, they heard the voice of the serpent king.
"Contractor Archmage, I am no enemy. I am the guardian beast of this castle, and I beseech thee to release me at once."
The voice echoed in their minds, gentle yet powerful, and oddly feminine.
“I’m afraid I’ll need a bit more than just your word,” Maverick replied aloud and mentally. “Guardian beast or not.”
There was a pause before the basilisk turned its great head, this time toward Dumbledore.
"You, the present overseer. Resonate with the castle’s magic, and thou shalt know I speak truth."
Dumbledore tilted his head slightly, amused, and gave a slight bow. He closed his eyes and stood still.
The entire chamber went quiet.
Maverick watched, sensing subtle magical fluctuations coming from the old wizard but nothing more. He did not detect any reaction from the castle wards. As a master alchemist, he knew more than most about wards. Whatever was happening, this communication between the castle headmaster and the castle’s magic left no trace for him to observe. He made a mental note to ask Dumbledore about it later.
After a full minute, Dumbledore opened his eyes.
His expression had changed—he looked enlightened, like he had just read a book he had never imagined existed.
“This castle never ceases to surprise me,” he murmured with a twinkle in his eyes. Then he looked at the basilisk and nodded.
“I see. The castle’s magic has indeed affirmed your words, Slitheris. On behalf of Hogwarts, and in my capacity as its current overseer, I bid you welcome. And…” —he turned to Maverick— “my dear Professor, might I trouble you to lift your magic and grant our guardian her freedom?”
Maverick didn’t move right away. His eyes stayed on the serpent.
“You haven’t answered my earlier question yet,” he said, both aloud and mentally. “Were you involved in the attacks that happened half a century ago? And did you encounter another Parselmouth during that time?”
The basilisk, now named Slitheris, answered at once.
“Never would I bring harm upon a disciple of mine liege’s sanctuary. Aye, I did cross paths with a descendant of my liege in those days, yet I heeded not the commands of the child of Gaunt. My purpose has always been to guard, not to destroy. I sealed myself inside the chamber after our first meeting. Yet, as he bore the blood of my liege and was counted among the school’s own, I could neither strike him nor cast him out. As for the deaths and attacks you speak of—I know nothing of them.”
Maverick glanced at Dumbledore, who met his eyes and gave a small nod.
That descendant... a Gaunt? It must be Tom Riddle.
“Do you remember his name?” Maverick asked. “And what he asked you to do?”
"I do not forget. I cannot forget. The boy bore the blood of Gaunt—the final thread of my master Salazar’s line. But his mind was dark, his will corrupted... unworthy of the legacy he carried. I denied him. And so, I returned to slumber. What transpired thereafter, I know not."
A long silence followed. Then Maverick asked one final question.
“Will your petrifying gaze affect any of us? There’s a child here, and I won’t remove the spell covering your eyes unless I am absolutely certain.”
The basilisk’s voice sharpened.
“Nonsense. My gaze holds no sway unless I will it so. I possess full command over my power. And never would I bring harm upon a descendant of Peverell—forebears of my liege himself.”
Maverick blinked, then glanced sideways at Harry, who was still staring up at the serpent—utterly mesmerized.
There was a lot to unpack—but for later. He cast a quick glance at Dumbledore and Newt, both of whom nodded in tacit understanding.
“Very well,” Maverick said at last. “I apologize for the restraint. We had no idea you were here, nor of your… status. It was simply a precaution.”
With a wave of his hand, the magic pressing down on the basilisk faded, and the stony bindings crumbled away.
Finally, the massive serpent lifted its head—slow, regal, and free at last—and cast its gaze upon them all.
"I do not blame you, Contractor," it said, its voice soft with approval.
