The Image on the First of the Seven Pages: Snake Devours Snake

The serpent possessed by Voldemort lay limp on the ground, pain emanating from the roots of every scale, the muscles beneath them twitching and spasming incessantly.

In his Wraith state, he can utilize his profound understanding of the soul to employ some soul-related magic. For example, that fool Lockhart just now used Memory Charm that was specifically designed to target the deepest memories of the soul, which happened to hit him squarely, causing him to suffer the consequences of his own actions in a single breath.

But when faced with other spells involving Magic Power, he seemed powerless. Even Disarming Charm from a second-year wizard was enough to cause him excruciating pain in this state.

Fortunately, he didn't attempt to seek out those self-proclaimed loyal servants. Otherwise, this dying Wraith might have been imprisoned in a glass bottle by them using their family's inherited Dark Arts, relentlessly interrogating him day and night about his powerful secrets.

Feeling the limpness in the snake's body, Voldemort stirred his twisting, twitching muscles and flipped it over again.

Power, power... Only immense power is the foundation of everything.

The slender snake lay prostrate at the feet of Salazar Slytherin's massive stone sculpture, raising its head and hissing. "Speak to me, Slytherin —the greatest of the Big Four of Hogwarts."

Under everyone's watchful eyes, the towering stone sculpture's face came to life, its mouth opening wider and wider until it formed a huge black hole.

A colossal creature moved within the statue's mouth, slithering out from its depths with a soft rustling sound. Its enormous tail lashed out, striking the stone slabs with a deafening roar, as if the entire Chamber of Secrets trembled.

Professor McGonagall, hiding behind the stone pillar, was so terrified her hair stood on end. She grabbed her wand, ready to rush out to protect her student. But Dumbledore reached out and grabbed her arm, silently shaking his head at her.

Professor McGonagall glanced at Dumbledore, then at the two young wizards confronting the Basilisk in front of her. The trust she had built over the years prevented her from kicking Dumbledore away.

She angrily shook off Dumbledore's hand and stopped walking, but the professor of Transfiguration gripped his wand tightly, ready to rush out at any moment.

Beneath the Slytherin statue, a chill ran from the ground up to their legs, then from their legs to their hearts. Harry and Ron felt their bodies tremble uncontrollably, and when they saw the outline of the Basilisk, they simultaneously closed their eyes tightly.

They remembered clearly that the Basilisk's gaze had a lethal effect; it would take effect as soon as it was seen.

"Guess how many Ron Weasley and Harry Potter it would take to fill this guy's stomach?" Ron said, his face contorted with despair, his legs trembling uncontrollably. He had only caught a glimpse of the Basilisk, and Snakeskin outside.

Harry's heart pounded in his chest. He took a deep breath, wanting to say something. But the darkness before him brought endless terror, a terror amplified by the Basilisk's crawling sounds.

"Save us, save us... Anyone can save us, whoever it is!" Ron was already in a panic.

Just then, a clear cry rang out, and Harry and Ron couldn't help but open their eyes a crack, seeing the warm flames floating on Fawkes' body.

The enormous Basilisk entirely green, gleaming with the vibrant light characteristic of venomous snakes, and its body was as thick as an oak tree trunk. Fawkes, newly reborn, didn't yet have fully grown feathers, but it flew with remarkable agility, circling the Basilisk's head...

Behind the stone pillar, Professor McGonagall glanced at Dumbledore with resentment, her uneasy heart gradually calming down.

Snape's eyes were deep and his gaze toward Dumbledore was complex.

Even Professor Flitwick couldn't help but glance sideways at Dumbledore, seemingly wanting to say something but holding back.

Loren, with amusement at the prospect of a good show, observed Dumbledore with a serious expression as he watched him stare intently at the battlefield ahead.

On the battlefield, Fawkes the Phoenix quickly pecked out the Basilisk's eyes. Harry and Ron dodged the Basilisk's attacks and were gradually forced into a corner.

Finally, when the two had nowhere left to retreat, the Sorting Hat appeared out of nowhere and landed in Harry's arms. Harry drew Sword of Gryffindor and deliberately charged into the basilisk's mouth. As the fangs pierced his arm, he swung the sword upwards and stabbed it into the Basilisk's upper jaw.

The Basilisk writhed in agony, rolling back to the statue's feet, its fangs breaking off in the process and remaining in Harry's arm.

Crabbe, who had been cowering behind Voldemort, stepped forward and let out a boisterous laugh, "The famous Harry Potter is finished! He overestimated himself and challenged the Dark Lord, and finally fell to the Dark Lord. Harry, you'll soon be meeting your Mudblood mother..."

No one paid him any attention. Harry lay on the floor, the intense pain slowly and steadily spreading from his wounds throughout his body. Harry's vision gradually blurred, and everything in front of him, everything in the Chamber of Secrets, gradually dissolved into a rapidly spinning mass of dim colors.

"Harry! Harry!" Ron cried out, sobbing as he grabbed the fang that was spraying venom into Harry's body, but they both knew it was too late.

Ron held Harry in his arms, tears streaming down his face, falling onto Harry's arm and making him feel a warm, wet sensation.

The Basilisk was dead, the sword piercing its head. Crabbe and the snake possessed by Voldemort were no match for Ron, especially with Fawkes ' help.

Harry's heart, which had been pounding with anxiety, slowly calmed down, his vision blurring. Harry opened his mouth, his throat feeling hoarse, but he forced himself to say, "Tell Justin— "

Before he could finish his last words, Fawkes landed beside the two of them, pressed his head against Harry's wound, and pearl-like tears streamed down his smooth feathers onto Harry's wound, creating a shimmering effect.

"Get away from him, you worthless bird. Get off him, do you hear me, get away!" Crabbe's furious voice came from afar, fading into the empty, confined Chamber of Secrets, like a supporting clown in a stage play.

Voldemort watched this scene from afar. He knew, of course, that the Phoenix Tears had healing properties, but he made no move and showed no intention of stopping it.

The appearance of Fawkes the Phoenix, the Sorting Hat, the Sword of Gryffindor... all signs indicate that Dumbledore is watching this place.

He had long anticipated that, in his current state, it would be impossible for him to kill Harry Potter inside Hogwarts Castle, which was under Dumbledore's control.

However, his goal was never to kill Harry Potter. Even creating living Horcrux was just a side idea... Voldemort's nostrils chuckled with pleasure as he shrank back and slithered toward the slowly dying Basilisk.

At the foot of the Slytherin Statue, a tiny snake, no bigger than a single scale of the Basilisk Basilisk, swarmed before it like a maggot. "Open up, hiss~ accept me. You are about to die, and I will continue Slytherin's work."

The Basilisk's struggles gradually weakened, and it could see nothing at all. But in the darkness, it still found the direction of the Slytherin stone sculpture, and struggled to twist its neck, trying to take one last look.

But it was too weak; all its strength poured out through the wound on its jaw. For a massive body over twenty feet tall, this movement was impossible to complete, even with all its strength.

The Basilisk seemed resigned to its fate, letting its head slump to the floor. With the last of its strength, it slightly opened its mouth and said, "If you want... take it all."

Voldemort, overjoyed, burrowed into the Basilisk's mouth. As he did so, a sinister mist rose from the serpent's body and surged toward the Basilisk's head. In a dimension beyond perception, the Basilisk's Wraith was corrupted by the ghostly presence.

All the planning was for this moment.

As the Basilisk of Slytherin, its most precious possession is not its magically Magic Power eyes, nor its indestructible fangs. Rather, it is the research data about Slytherin from a thousand years ago that remains within its Basilisk.

After reading the information left in the Diary, Voldemort desperately wanted to obtain more information about Sage, immortality, ancient wizards, and Ancient Magic. And this information was hidden within the Basilisk's soul.

The Basilisk lived and worked alongside Slytherin, witnessing all his research and Magical Theory. However, given the Basilisk's limited intelligence, it couldn't comprehend that knowledge; it could only mechanically retain the images and sounds of experiments from a thousand years ago in its memory. After thousands of years, those memories settled deep within its soul, becoming profound recollections.

To the Basilisk, it was his master's monotonous and tedious repetitive work, and his master's endless, meaningless ramblings; but to others, it was the most precious treasure that Slytherin left to his heir.

Unlike other Magical Creatures, no one can Legilimency from Basilisk 'Basilisk eyes, and even with its intelligence, the Basilisk cannot answer any questions related to magic.

When Voldemort was considering how to extract the Basilisk's memories, he considered turning the Basilisk into Horcrux. Through Horcrux, he could establish a spiritual connection with the Basilisk, and perhaps access Basilisk memories through that connection.

However, there was no precedent for living Horcrux, Voldemort couldn't guarantee success. Under Dumbledore's watchful eye, he didn't have many opportunities to experiment. Ultimately, he abandoned the idea and decided to actively merge with the Basilisk's soul, taking over its deep memories.

However, in his weakened, Wraith state, he could only possess the Basilisk's soul when it was near death. From that moment on, the Basilisk was destined to die.

In its final moments, the Basilisk's enormous, blood-soaked eye sockets rolled. Its lightbulb-sized yellow eyes could see nothing, yet it still struggled to look toward the Slytherin statue.

Salazar Slytherin, his master...

It vaguely remembered that its master was not originally like the stone sculpture. Born into Pure-blood noble family, he was also a dignified, polite, and handsome gentleman.

Later, it started fiddling with strange and unusual things, even attacking its own body, and slowly transformed into this old and decrepit monkey face.

Although he only fed himself white mice and spiders—small snacks that were hardly enough to satisfy his hunger—and didn't even bother to bring him larger prey from the nearby forest, strictly forbidding him from foraging for himself, the Basilisk eventually came to find that the mice and spiders were quite delicious.

Slytherin forbade it from leaving the Chamber of Secrets, and especially from appearing in front of the students of the Castle... There were many other rules and restrictions, but the Basilisk couldn't understand them, and it couldn't remember its master's instructions.

But the master did not instruct him to obey the heir's orders. Hearing the familiar Parselmouth, the Basilisk's mind was not sharp enough, and it involuntarily followed the Parselmouth's commands.

My master won't blame me, will he...?

In the endless, thick darkness, the blind Basilisk seemed to see that solitary figure again. A pang of resentment rose in its heart. "Why are you only coming now? I've been sleeping for so long..."

The enormous snake's body stopped breathing completely and did not move again.

Behind the stone pillar, only Loren, guided by some kind of intuition, glanced in the direction of the Basilisk from afar, his eyes widening instantly as if struck by lightning.

Two snakes faced each other, one opening its mouth to devour the other. From Loren's perspective, behind the two snakes stood a towering stone pillar, which, for a moment, resembled a walking stick.

The scene was like the pattern on the stone wall at the end of a tunnel, like the pattern on the first seven pages of some mysterious book.

The Prophecy that spanned countless years was unfolding before his eyes; the illustrations of the Book of Abraham were brought to life, and Loren's heart was deeply shaken.

Why, why did Slytherin and Abraham Prophecy the same scene?

Did Slytherin anticipate leaving the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets of the Castle? Were these things planned by Slytherin long ago?

He felt slightly uneasy.

No one noticed Loren's unusual behavior; the other professors' attention was focused on Harry and Fawkes.

Harry felt a warm, burning sensation surge through his wound, the warmth spreading throughout his body and dispelling the pain. His hearing returned, and the sounds of Ron's cries and Crabbe's shouts gave him a headache.

Slowly, Harry opened his eyes and met Ron's eyes, whose face was covered in snot and tears. Long, sticky snot dripped down his face, making it almost unbearable to look at. Harry subtly turned his head away.

Ron didn't miss that fleeting glance. "Hey, you were just looking down on me, weren't you? You were definitely looking down on me!"

Harry touched Fawkes ' head; the stubble was still a bit prickly. He silently rolled over and stood up. "No, you're mistaken."

"Who am I crying so hard for? Am I crying for myself...?" Ron muttered, a smile he couldn't hide on his lips.

Crabbe glared at them with venom, his voice cracking as he roared, "Why aren't you dead? Why aren't you dead? Why aren't you dead yet!"

Harry and Ron exchanged a smile, picked up their wands together, and moved forward.

Crabbe's cursing stopped, replaced by panic. He looked around frantically, pleading, "Dark Lord! Dark Lord..."

Before the words were finished, a black spirit emerged from the Basilisk's body. It had no physical form and, like a ghost, darted straight out of the Chamber of Secrets room and disappeared.

Loren recognized this scene; he'd witnessed it once before, last year when he fought Quirrell. He was dumbfounded. "Voldemort, he's already gone?"

Prophecy that transcends time, witnessed by the Book of Abraham, with Slytherin involved, who even thought Voldemort was doing something to the Basilisk, and who knows if it might have caused a mutation and riot on the spot.

So they just ran away like that?

The Basilisk was dead, Voldemort fled, and only a group of young wizards remained. Professor McGonagall could no longer contain herself; she strode out from behind the pillar:

"Potter! Weasley!"