The Origami Crane was Harry.
With the help of the Gravity Scroll, he had taken the Basilisk away ahead of time.
Through the [Poké Ball].
But...
The [Poké Ball] wasn't an actual object. Or rather, it needed an object to contain it before it could manifest.
And Harry had chosen himself.
The Millennium Basilisk—more accurately, a Basilisk that had changed dramatically after acquiring the [Arbok] template. Its scales had turned purple, its once-fatal gaze was now controllable, and it had gained skills such as [Wrap], [Poison Sting], and [Acid]. In the future, it could even evolve into an [Arbok]. It was a living Basilisk.
It now resided in the internal space within Harry's abdomen.
Harry could borrow its abilities and even take on its appearance.
—Tailed Beast Mode?
—Did that make me a Jinchuriki now?
Harry joked to himself, unable to help recalling once more what it had felt like to control the Basilisk.
It was as if he had another perspective, another body.
Parseltongue's magic really was more than just talking to snakes.
It granted them [Virtual Spirit] and allowed them to be controlled. That was how ordinary snakes could speak with humanlike intelligence.
This control wasn't limited to snake-like Fantastic Beasts. It worked on snake-shaped magic, too.
And for someone with the [Diplomacy] skill, it wasn't limited to serpents anymore.
"Ron, the incantation for the [Locking Charm] is really interesting. [Quickly Bind] and [Binding Spell]—the incantation [Quickly Imprison] is so similar."
Within the [Diplomacy] skill, [Human Language] glimmered with a silvery light.
[Virtual Spirit] traveled through sound, and a thought appeared in Ron's mind.
The words on the page Harry had opened in front of him suddenly seemed much more interesting.
"Bloody hell! I, the great Ron, really am a genius. I can even find a spellbook interesting!" Ron grew even more confident.
—Interesting.
Through another perspective, one borrowed from Ron, Harry watched the page until the [Virtual Spirit] faded.
—Is controlling a wizard harder than controlling the Millennium Basilisk?
—Maybe it's because they have a sense of self?
Harry continued reading with interest.
He didn't know that, because the Basilisk had disappeared, he had lost the reward for suppressing a Slytherin rebellion.
It had also led Dumbledore and Voldemort to draw the wrong conclusions.
"Tom's testing me, trying to find out whether I know about the Chamber of Secrets and whether I've destroyed you. He must have found out somehow that I was following Quirrell. This is a warning."
"Dumbledore has destroyed the Basilisk. I've permanently lost a precious [Horcrux]. He's warning me!"
One was talking to the [Diary], the other to Quirrell.
The two began to fear each other.
And so...
With the two troublemakers keeping each other in check, and only Harry and the Dogskin Book left, peace finally came to Harry.
It lasted until Thursday, when it abruptly came to an end.
During the Flying Lesson all the first-years had been eagerly anticipating.
"Who did it? Who sabotaged Harry's broom?" Sirius was still shaken. "That was close..."
"Even if I fell headfirst from the top of the tower, I'd be perfectly fine." Harry remained unruffled, wearing his usual smile.
"No one would make such a stupid mistake," Draco agreed. "Could it have just been worn out?"
After his father had sided with Dumbledore, Draco had grown much closer to Sirius, thanks to his mother being Sirius's cousin.
Now only he and Harry dared to speak up.
Madam Hooch—the incompetent Flying Lesson instructor from the original timeline, who had watched Neville fall and only wail instead of remembering to draw his wand, as well as the school's Quidditch referee—was inspecting the other brooms.
"No, only Mr. Potter's broom was sabotaged."
"But..." Ron frowned. "How would the culprit know Harry would use that broom?"
"Where he was standing!" Hermione's eyes lit up. "Harry always stands at the very front."
"This magical scent... A House-elf."
Harry crouched down to sniff at it, his fingers seeming to trace some invisible substance in the crack.
Ron's eyes widened. "Harry, you should stop washing dishes. Those House-elves in the kitchens are so bored they've started attacking you!"
Hermione glared at Ron. "It's a good thing Harry wants to help with their unpaid slave labor!"
Ever since she'd learned about House-elves, she'd loved Harry even more.
"No, it was Slytherin!" Sirius roared. "It must've been Marcus Flint. The Flint family has House-elves, and he's the only one who's always been openly hostile to Harry."
"I'm going to get him expelled!"
"Right! My father's a School Governor!" Draco chimed in again.
After the Malfoy family sided with Dumbledore, Lucius Malfoy had regained his seat on the board.
The two acted with remarkable speed.
Just five minutes later, Snape dragged Marcus out of the Transfiguration Class.
"I'm innocent, Professor Snape!"
Marcus's troll-like face was full of hurt, his eyes red-rimmed.
"You can ask the Prefect. Every time I say something bad about Potter, she tells me off."
Sirius, who'd been wondering why Gemma had joined in, immediately perked up. "I told you Harry's more popular than James ever was, just like I was back in the day! First my Auror niece, and now another girl—and she's a Prefect! A beauty, too!"
Gemma's ears reddened, and her icy blue eyes glimmered. "Maybe that's exactly why you had it in for Harry."
"Unfair! Everyone here's on Harry Potter's side!" Marcus shouted. "His girlfriend, his lackey, his godfather—and you're on his side too, Head of House. I've heard you like Lily—"
"Silencio! Fifty points from Slytherin! Detention!"
Snape's hand blurred as he pointed his wand at Marcus's throat, quick as lightning.
Marcus clutched his throat. At that moment, he was so aggrieved he began to cry.
Professor McGonagall was crying in the Transfiguration classroom, too. She hurried to face the blackboard.
Gryffindor had won the House Cup. Victory really was within reach!
That excitement cooled once more on Wednesday of the second week.
Because...
During Potions Class, Snape once again shamelessly took points away, making up for what he'd lost.
He had indeed promised Harry he'd be a proper professor.
But that didn't mean Gryffindor had no reason to lose points.
Seamus and his explosive Potions made a major contribution to that.
"I've said it all along. Gryffindor doesn't lose because Slytherin is so good. It loses because Snape has no shame."
The speaker was Nearly Headless Nick, Gryffindor's resident Ghost type.
He glared at the Bloody Baron, Slytherin's resident Ghost type. "Just look at that dead face of his. Gryffindor can't lose again this school year!"
"But... I..." Seamus hung his head in dejection. "Slytherin still has Harry."
"You haven't learned the Explosion Curse yet, have you?" said Nearly Headless Nick. "You might be as talented at it as Tussell. Once you get it under control, you won't keep messing up your other spells."
"The one on the Chocolate Frog card? The 1430 All-England Wizards' Dueling Championship winner?" Seamus exclaimed. "But that spell's more powerful than a lot of Curses. Where can I practice it?"
Nearly Headless Nick answered with an inscrutable smile. "That brings us to a mysterious room. Behind the stretch of bare wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls to do ballet... You only need to walk past it three times, thinking about the room you want..."
Neither the boy nor the Ghost noticed the red shadow that flashed past the corner.
"Harry, Harry, there's something I need to tell you!"
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