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HRHL# CHAPTER 160
🕑 Added 2025-04-22 19:00:02 +0000 UTCHe decided to ask first. After all, the Basilisk hadn’t attacked him directly, likely because his Parseltongue had thrown it off balance.
Oh, Harry’s Parseltongue wasn’t just innate—he’d been trained by the Gaunt family. One could say that even Marvolo Gaunt himself might not speak the Gaunt dialect as authentically as Harry did.
He planned to test the waters.
“Is it because he saved you that you chose to serve him?” Harry asked.
The Basilisk hissed in response, “No, because he is the last of Slytherin’s bloodline—but I’m curious. Why is it that besides him, someone else can speak to me, and your words make me want to obey even more?”
Case closed. Harry knew his guess was spot-on.
This Basilisk didn’t care who saved it—it only cared about whose blood was purer.
With that in mind, Harry decided it was time to teach the Basilisk a lesson.
“You disgrace Slytherin, little snake,” he said, mimicking the outraged tone of a villain. “You’ve been fooled by a filthy half-blood!”
“Half-blood?” The Basilisk froze.
“Let me tell you, little snake!” Harry continued, voice brimming with mock fury. “Did you know? His mother was my niece. She fell for a Muggle and dosed him with a love potion to conceive that Tom Riddle! I’ll have you know, he’s nothing but a wretched half-blood Mudblood, daring to pose as a great Slytherin heir! And what infuriates me more is that you believed him!”
At Harry’s words, the Basilisk seemed to crash like a malfunctioning machine.
If Harry had looked up, he’d have seen confusion and conflict flickering in its eyes.
Who am I?
Where am I?
What am I doing?
It understood what this “true Gaunt” was saying—a filthy half-blood begging at the Gaunt family’s door?
Could it be that all this time, it had been deceived by that “young master”?
“And you are?” the Basilisk asked tentatively.
“Ominis Gaunt!” Harry declared boldly. “A true heir of Slytherin! By lineage, your so-called ‘young master’ should call me grandfather!”
The Basilisk’s serpentine body shuddered at Harry’s words.
Merlin’s beard! An ancestor of the Gaunt family…
But why so young? It was puzzled.
So, it asked.
“Master Ominis, why do you look so young?”
“Because of time magic, little snake,” Harry snorted. “Didn’t you know? I’ve awakened the legacy of ancient magic.”
Harry had only meant to toss out a casual mention of ancient magic, but he never expected the Basilisk to let out a piercing screech.
“Ancient magic! Ah! Ancient magic!”
What’s going on?
Harry watched the Basilisk writhing like an earthworm sprinkled with salt, quietly slipping his wand out, ready to cast a spell if things went south.
“You’ve awakened ancient magic! You must truly be the heir of the great master Slytherin!” the Basilisk’s tone turned fawning. “Merlin’s beard, you’re magnificent! I should trust you—even the old master’s children never awakened ancient magic. What an honor, what an honor to meet such a pure Slytherin heir!”
For a fleeting moment, Harry felt like a scoundrel who’d stolen someone’s girlfriend.
By deception, no less.
He had no doubt that even if Voldemort appeared before him now, he’d have no sway over this Basilisk.
“Honored young master,” the Basilisk slithered closer, its tone dripping with flattery, “please allow me to serve at your side. That Tom—er, that filthy half-blood Mudblood—deceived me shamelessly. He wouldn’t even take me out of this Chamber…”
“Why not?” Harry asked, puzzled.
“I don’t know,” the Basilisk said dejectedly, flicking its tail with a thudding slap against the ground.
“If you don’t mind, I have an Extension-Charmed pouch here,” Harry said to the Basilisk. “Though I can understand him. You’re a Basilisk, after all. He was probably afraid you’d petrify others if you left.”
“As long as I don’t petrify the master, it’s fine,” the Basilisk said cheerfully, wagging its tail like an eager puppy. “You must know, a true Slytherin heir has no fear of a Basilisk’s petrifying curse.”
“Why’s that?” Harry asked curiously. He’d always wondered why Tom hadn’t been killed by the Basilisk’s gaze the first time he unleashed it.
“Because a Basilisk would never kill a natural Parselmouth,” the Basilisk explained happily. “Besides, that ability can be controlled. So, when will you take me out, honored young master?”
Seeing Harry hesitate, the Basilisk hissed softly and said, “Master, I can eat less. Don’t let my size fool you—I really can eat less—”
“Alright,” Harry didn’t refuse. After all, how fun would it be to have a Basilisk to play with?
Harry opened the pouch, then remembered something important.
“One more thing. I need some Basilisk fangs.”
“Oh, that.” The Basilisk shook its head and leaned close to Harry.
Two venomous fangs clattered to the ground.
“If you need more, I can shed some later,” the Basilisk said. “But I’ll need some food to replenish… You know, it’s been ages since I’ve eaten.”
Harry flicked his hand, and the fangs flew into his grasp.
Still a bit wary, he didn’t dare bend down to pick them up, opting instead to show off some wandless magic.
“Brilliant! Worthy of the old master’s heir!” the Basilisk exclaimed gleefully. “Look at that wandless magic!”
Harry smiled and opened the pouch. “Get in. Once we’re out, I’ll get you some food—how about beef? You don’t mind beef, do you?”
“I’ll eat it, young master, as long as it’s not chicken,” the Basilisk hissed. “Though I prefer Acromantula—you know, their meat is so juicy.”
“Got it,” Harry nodded. “By the way, I haven’t asked your name.”
“Alfonso,” the Basilisk replied. “That’s what the old master named me.”
“Alright, Alfonso, in you go,” Harry said.
The Basilisk slithered forward, and with a pop, Harry tucked it into the pouch.
Even after securing the Basilisk, Harry felt like he was in a dream.
Just like that, the Basilisk was dealt with?
What shocked him even more was that with just a few words, he’d convinced a Basilisk to obediently slip into his pouch…
Time to brush up on Gaunt family lore, he thought.
He pocketed the Basilisk fangs, transfigured his clothes back into Gryffindor style, and Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts.
Apparition wasn’t possible within Hogwarts, but the Chamber was beneath the Black Lake, so it didn’t count as part of the castle.
His first stop wasn’t the Room of Requirement but the Headmaster’s office.
Veratia’s situation was important, but letting Voldemort slip away was unthinkable.
The stone gargoyle stepped aside the moment Harry reached the eighth floor.
Without any hindrance, Harry strode into the Headmaster’s office.
“Oh, Harry,” Dumbledore said, delighted to see him. “What did you find out?”
Harry said nothing, pulling out a Basilisk fang and placing it on the desk.
Dumbledore didn’t grasp the significance, glancing curiously at the fang, then at Harry.
“And this is?” he asked, eyeing the fang still oozing black venom.
“Basilisk fang,” Harry said concisely. “I found the Chamber. The entrance is in the second-floor girls’ bathroom, but it only opens with Parseltongue. I really don’t get why Slytherin had such bizarre tastes.”
“Because Slytherin loved snakes,” Dumbledore replied.
The professor picked up the fang, holding it to the sunlight, and gave Harry a faintly shocked look.
“I never imagined a wizard your age could face a Basilisk alone and pull its fang…”
With that, Dumbledore casually slipped the fang into his pocket.
Harry said nothing, reaching across the desk.
“Haha, forgive an old man’s collecting habit,” Dumbledore chuckled, unabashed, and returned the fang. “But I must warn you, Basilisk venom is highly toxic. You’d best be cautious.”
“Don’t worry,” Harry nodded. “I’ll be careful.”
“But I still don’t understand—how did you defeat the Basilisk?” Dumbledore asked, puzzled. “Even if you’re an heir to ancient magic…”
“I convinced it,” Harry said, spreading his hands in mock helplessness. “The Basilisk only obeys Slytherin’s heirs, but I told it the truth—about Voldemort’s origins. When it learned the truth, it was furious. It felt humiliated, believing a half-blood Mudblood wasn’t worthy of being Slytherin’s heir.”
“But you’re not a Slytherin heir,” Dumbledore pointed out.
“I found Ominis Gaunt’s journal in the vaults,” Harry said succinctly. “I know he was Marvolo Gaunt’s brother, which makes him Voldemort’s grandfather by lineage… so I impersonated him.”
“And how did you convince it?” Dumbledore pressed, still perplexed. “Harry, I’m just curious. You don’t have to answer—everyone has their secrets.”
“It’s no secret. I’m a natural Parselmouth,” Harry said with a smile.
“A natural Parselmouth?”
Dumbledore felt he’d had enough shocks for one day, but a Gryffindor Parselmouth topped them all.
He opened his mouth, then chose silence.
Best not to ask.
“So, what’s your next plan?” Dumbledore asked again.
Harry thought for a moment. “I want Draco to write to his father, to rally the Board of Governors to pressure you into resigning.”
Dumbledore pondered briefly, then said, “If you can sway Lucius, it’s a solid plan.”
Inwardly, he couldn’t stop marveling. Harry was the most mature, skilled, and promising young wizard he’d ever seen for his age.
The only one who might compare was that transfer student from a century ago.
Thinking of her, Dumbledore’s eyelids twitched uncontrollably.
He knew that young lady was Gellert’s sister.
“Don’t worry, I’ll give Lucius Malfoy an offer he can’t refuse,” Harry said.
Leaving the Headmaster’s office, Harry found Miss Farley studying in the Great Hall.
He slipped her a note and left.
“Take Draco to the empty classroom on the second floor later. I’ll be waiting.”
Miss Farley read it, then burned the note.
She pretended to keep reading, waiting five or six minutes before standing and calling Draco away.
“What’s Miss Farley want with Draco?” Pansy asked, craning her neck curiously.
“Something about his dad, I think. Maybe family connections,” Crabbe said without looking up.
Pansy nodded, snorted, and went back to studying.
In the empty classroom, Harry was idly feeding snacks to the Basilisk.
The Basilisk in the pouch was thrilled, hissing happily and swishing its tail.
Hearing footsteps, Harry whispered to the pouch, then looked up.
“Harry, were you just…” Draco asked, intrigued.
“I said someone’s coming, and I’ll feed you later,” Harry said calmly. “Parseltongue—you’ve heard of it.”
“Parseltongue?!” Miss Farley and Draco gasped in unison.
Parseltongue was an exceedingly rare, typically hereditary gift—nearly all Parselmouths were descendants of Salazar Slytherin.
This bombshell left the two pure Slytherin students stunned.
“Merlin, Harry…” Miss Farley clutched her collar, breathing heavily with excitement. “Would you… would you consider joining Slytherin? Merlin’s beard, I’m sure you’d be the greatest Slytherin graduate ever…”
“Greater than Voldemort?” Harry asked with a grin.
“Er…” Miss Farley thought for a moment, then nodded firmly. “Definitely greater.”
“I think so too!” Draco raised his hand. “That’s—”
Harry shot him a look.
Draco swallowed his words.
He thought indignantly, Keep glaring at me. When my great-aunt comes back, I’ll say it to her face, and we’ll see if you dare scowl then!
“Save it for later. I have something to discuss with you, Draco,” Harry said.
“Anything you need, just say it!” Draco thumped his chest proudly.
To him, Harry and his great-aunt Cassandra were a sure thing.
So, by that logic, Harry was practically his ancestor.
If his ancestor was this impressive, wouldn’t he, as a descendant, have plenty to brag about?
No more “my father” boasts—henceforth, he’d name-drop his “great-uncle,” he thought viciously.
So, his great-uncle’s business was Malfoy family business.
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T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
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