Night Battle (Part One)

Hogwarts Castle was rather eerie at night.

Dim light fell across the walls, accompanied by the creak of footsteps... An unfamiliar Eastern European face appeared in the corridor on the Eighth Floor of the castle, a black cloak concealing most of his features.

Jon Hart quickened his pace as much as possible. At this late hour, teachers or caretakers might very well be patrolling the school... He had to be quick and careful. He could not let them catch him.

Turning a corner, he saw a portrait hanging at the end of the Eighth Floor corridor. It depicted a very plump woman dressed in pink. The plump woman had her eyes closed, as if she were asleep.

It seemed to be Fat Lady's portrait... So that must be the Gryffindor common room.

As Jon pondered this, a noise suddenly came from behind the portrait.

Jon's expression changed, and he swiftly ducked behind a suit of armor.

Fat Lady's portrait was pushed open. Then he saw a tall boy with flaming red hair crawl out from behind it. Jon found his face somewhat familiar. He seemed to be Gryffindor's prefect, Percy Weasley.

The sixth-year Gryffindor hummed a tune as he strolled past the suit of armor, utterly unaware that someone was hiding behind it.

Only after the other boy had completely left his sight did Jon quietly follow him.

Unfortunately, he seemed to be headed in the same direction as Percy Weasley.

Percy Weasley unhurriedly passed the Muggle Studies classroom before descending the stairs. Jon had no choice but to slow down and trail behind him.

After going down several flights of stairs and crossing a long corridor, Percy Weasley turned right... Judging by the direction he was heading, was he planning to go to Ravenclaw Tower?

Jon suppressed his curiosity and stopped walking... At the corner of the corridor, he prepared to wait until Percy Weasley was fully out of sight before going downstairs to the Dungeon and returning to the Hufflepuff common room.

Unexpectedly, Percy Weasley stopped after only a few steps. He even took a mirror from his pocket and began leisurely combing his hair.

Jon was speechless. Did you seriously not get dressed up before coming out on a date, and instead decide to do it at the last minute?

He had only taken a small amount of Polyjuice Potion earlier, so the transformation would last just ten minutes... This Gryffindor prefect had already delayed him for nearly three or four minutes.

Patiently, Jon sat down at the corner of the corridor as well.

All of a sudden, Jon heard a strange sound in the darkness.

It came from the West Tower. It had begun quietly, but it was drawing closer... It sounded like old leather scraping across the floor.

That sound? Jon's face changed at once. How could this be possible!

Could it be the Basilisk?

But why would the Basilisk appear at Hogwarts at this time?

According to the original plot, Riddle's diary should have been in Harry Potter's hands at this point, and Potter had not even discovered how to converse with the diary yet.

The plot had actually changed at such a coincidental moment!

Without the slightest hesitation, Jon swiftly pulled the Rooster Alarm Clock from his pocket and wound it up.

"Who's there?" Percy Weasley seemed to have noticed something was wrong as well, but before he could draw his Wand, it was all over... In the mirror in his hand, he saw a streak of yellowish-green light. Then his body froze in place, turning to stone.

The sound of old leather scraping across the floor rang out again, drawing closer and closer... Jon frowned. The Basilisk was crawling toward him. It had already discovered him!

"Cock-a-doodle-doo... Cock-a-doodle-doo... Cock-a-doodle-doo..." The Rooster Alarm Clock began to sound at that moment.

With the sharp cry, Jon sensed that the enormous creature in the darkness seemed to have stopped.

The Basilisk hissed through the air. It seemed frightened and wary of the Rooster Alarm Clock's sound.

Yet it did not turn and leave. Instead, it continued circling along the other side of the corridor.

A rooster's crow was fatal to a Basilisk... But the crow imitated by an alarm clock was ultimately just an imitation. It could not produce the exact same effect; at most, it could make the Basilisk instinctively feel fear.

The two sides seemed to have reached a standoff.

Jon decisively placed the crowing alarm clock on the floor.

The alarm clock could only continue for twenty seconds. If it stopped, he would need at least five seconds to wind it up again before it could resume making rooster sounds.

And the Basilisk was very close to him. Jon did not dare guarantee that, in those five seconds, it would not crawl in front of him and kill him.

So he began backing away, moving away from the Rooster Alarm Clock.

However, he did not retreat very far, nor did he flee outright.

Over the past half-semester, he had spent a great deal of time studying the Basilisk's nature... Based on his research, he knew very well that although the Basilisk was massive, it was also agile... When attacking prey, it could reach a maximum speed of fifteen meters per second.

Even though Sergei's body was quite nimble, there was still no way he could outrun a Basilisk.

Running was therefore the stupidest choice. Once he exposed his back to the Basilisk's pursuit, even if he gained a lead of over a hundred meters, within a dozen seconds, the Basilisk's fangs would pierce through his back.

Then he would either become the Basilisk's food or die from its highly venomous poison. After all, he could not count on a Phoenix appearing to save him.

The only thing he could rely on was himself!

Jon only retreated a little over ten meters.

According to records, the Basilisk of the ancient Greek wizard Vile Herpo had lived for roughly nine hundred years, and it was nine meters long when it died... Slytherin's Basilisk had lived for more than a thousand years, so it should be around ten meters long.

For a ten-meter-long monster to make a turn at the intersection of the corridors would probably take it some time.

While greater distance would better ensure his safety, shooting from too far away would greatly reduce the pistol's power and accuracy...

That was why this position could both temporarily ensure his safety and allow the Desert Eagle Mark I pistol to unleash its greatest power. At a moment of life and death, he had to take some risks.

He raised the Green Bamboo wand in his left hand and gripped the pistol firmly in his right...

Jon Hart—or, more accurately, Sergei Pavlov—lay prone on the ground. He glanced at the corner ahead, then closed his eyes.

Quietly waiting for the hunter—or the prey—to arrive.

The alarm clock finally fell silent.

The sound of old leather scraping across the floor echoed through the corridor once more.