I suggest you die

"Push forward! Push forward!"

Professor Slughorn's stout figure was practically the most conspicuous target on a battlefield full of flying spells. He dodged the chaotic curses in a panic, but even so, he did not retreat a single step. His thick wizard robes had been scraped full of holes. Steeling himself, he lifted his head and stared fixedly at the rampaging Basilisk, tore open his collar, and revealed the potion bottles tied all over the belt buckled to the lining of his coat. His face flushed crimson. "Make room for the people behind us! Hurry!"

Just a few minutes earlier, Slytherin, who had stepped out of the painting, had gripped the Sword of Gryffindor and pushed out through the crowd, turning into a wisp of thick ink flecked with gold and red as he swept through the air and appeared above the head of the Basilisk blocking everyone's path. His figure quickly condensed from the ink, and with the sword held in a reverse grip, he roared down at the ground, "Rowena!"

Even though neither of them was one of the Four Founders in person, in this special reunion of the Four Founders, whether it was he who existed as a portrait or Ravenclaw, who had been preserved in the form of memory, both had awakened the tacit understanding of fighting side by side from the earliest days of Hogwarts' founding a thousand years ago.

Slytherin's left hand brushed across the blade, and ink-like dark-red blood flowed along the fuller. The ancient inscriptions left by the Goblins pulsed like a heart under the stimulus of bloodshed. The reason Godric Gryffindor had been able to look down on the heroes of that era, when powerful wizards abounded, and become one of the very best was not only that he possessed unparalleled