Night Battle (Part 2)

Because of the Basilisk's deadly eyes, Jon could not open his own. All he could rely on were his ears and his instincts.

As the Rooster Alarm Clock abruptly fell silent, the enormous creature on the other side of the corridor suddenly began to move.

It slithered rapidly toward him.

The sound of the Basilisk's rough skin scraping against the floor was especially piercing.

The facts proved that, given the speed the Basilisk had displayed, if Jon had bet everything on the Rooster Alarm Clock just now, he would already be dead.

The instant he heard the Basilisk enter the corridor, an orange-yellow beam shot from the tip of the Wand in Jon's left hand... an Eye Blight Curse he had practiced countless times. Its target was the Rooster Alarm Clock's location; his Wand had been aimed there several seconds earlier.

The Basilisk possessed considerable intelligence. In its eyes, the Rooster Alarm Clock was likely a greater threat than Jon himself.

So once the alarm stopped, the Basilisk's first target would surely be the clock rather than him.

It was indeed a risky move, but accurately striking the Basilisk's eyes with an Eye Blight Curse using only his ears was almost impossible.

So he had no other choice.

Just as Jon had expected, the Basilisk rounded the corridor and immediately opened its gaping maw to bite the Rooster Alarm Clock.

The instant it chewed the clock into its mouth, the orange-yellow beam shot toward its head and struck one of its eyes. The Eye Blight Curse automatically tracked its target's eyes, provided it hit somewhere not far from them.

"Hiss... hiss..." The Basilisk could not help letting out pained hisses. If someone who understood Parseltongue had been there, they might have heard its curses.

But Jon could not understand it, nor did he want to.

The Eye Blight Curse would inflict unbearable pain on the Basilisk. This was a good opportunity!

The Desert Eagle Mark I semi-automatic pistol in his right hand fired.

Bang... The deafening report might have echoed throughout the entire castle.

The pistol in Jon's right hand held eight rounds in its magazine... facing such a terrifying Magical Creature, changing magazines was impossible, so he had only eight chances to fire. But Jon had no intention of conserving ammunition.

Bang... bang... bang...

Shot after shot, relying on his sharp hearing and excellent experience in night combat, nearly every bullet struck its target precisely.

The .375 Magnum bullets were immensely powerful. Designed for hunting, they could punch through a Brown Bear's skull from within twenty meters... the Basilisk's thick hide could withstand most damaging spells, but it could not resist bullets of such force.

Several dull impacts sounded, and a faint smell of blood instantly filled the air.

In just a few seconds, Jon fired seven consecutive shots... the terrifying recoil nearly shattered even the battle-hardened right arm of Sergei Pavlov.

Jon had left one bullet in the magazine... he intended to fire it through the Basilisk's mouth and into its brain at the final moment, when it opened its gaping maw toward him.

If the plan succeeded, that shot would certainly kill the Basilisk. Of course, in return, the Basilisk's venom would be injected into his body, and he would most likely not survive either.

It would very likely end with both of them dead.

But the Basilisk did not attack.

This Magical Creature possessed great intelligence. The bleeding bullet holes in its body made it understand that the tall Eastern European man before it was not as weak and helpless as the prey it had encountered before, unable to fight back.

It had suffered serious injuries and sensed the danger. Besides, its master's orders had not included killing the man before it. Its objective had long been completed—indeed, it had exceeded it.

More importantly, it did not know that the man before it could no longer continue that kind of attack.

The Basilisk began to retreat, inch by inch.

It withdrew from the corridor, and even from the entire floor...

Listening to the sound of old leather scraping against the floor gradually fade away.

Jon Hart climbed to his feet and let out a sigh of relief.

After a grueling battle, he had finally preserved his life.

But it was not over yet. He could now clearly hear countless footsteps approaching from downstairs.

That intense battle had nearly awakened the entire castle.

Countless teachers and upper-year students were hurrying this way.

The Polyjuice Potion had perhaps only two or three minutes left... that was not enough time for him to run to the Hufflepuff common room in the Dungeon.

More importantly, before those powerful professors, even an outstanding KGB Agent clearly could not escape their notice.

Jon removed the pistol from his right hand with his left and put it back into his pocket along with the Wand. Then, supporting his nearly broken right arm with his left hand, he fled swiftly toward the Eighth Floor.

Nimbly avoiding several upper-year Gryffindor students who had come to see what was happening, Jon finally reached the Room of Requirement before the transformation ended.

The moment he entered that safe room, Jon fell to his knees.

Violent convulsions spread through his body. The transformation time had run out.

"Harry... wait for me..."

Just as Jon left the site of the attack, two second-year Gryffindor students arrived there.

"The sound came from here!" Harry Potter said, panting heavily. "Slytherin's monster killed someone, and it seems to be injured too... This time, I have to catch it!"

"But what about that sound just now? It sounded like there was a fight!" Ron Weasley argued.

"I hope someone stopped that monster!" Harry Potter muttered to himself.

"Wait!" Ron Weasley grabbed his sleeve from behind.

A tall boy with fiery red hair lay on the floor... his entire body was cold and stiff, while a look of utter terror seemed frozen upon his face, leaving his glasses staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Oh God..." Ron fell to his knees and burst into tears. "It-it's my brother... It's Percy..."

"No..." Almost at the same time, Professor Flitwick's scream came from Ravenclaw Tower on the western side of the castle, not far from them.

Amid the shock in that cry was a trace of fury.