This Isn't Something Only the Dark Lord Could Do?!

The dark clouds on the dome of the Great Hall surged and churned, so thick they seemed about to drip down from it.

All eyes turned to Silan.

He himself remained calm and unhurried, taking out only a round ball and a small bottle.

Tom stared at Silan with a grim expression, unsure of his intentions, but continued to command the Basilisk in his Parseltongue.

"Kill him at all costs!"

Snape ran towards Silan, trying to stop the Basilisk.

Lee Jordan, who was behind the wooden board, was also stunned when he saw what Silan was holding, and fell silent for a moment.

George and Fred asked anxiously, "What's going on outside? Tell us quickly!"

Lee Jordan lay prone on the wooden plank, carefully avoiding the Basilisk's eyes, only daring to glance at Silan's hand out of the corner of his eye.

"Prewett took out a small glass bottle and a sphere..."

"What exactly is he trying to do?" Lee Jordan almost muttered to himself at the end.

"Where's your wand?" Harry asked anxiously. "Why aren't you using your wand?"

George exclaimed, "Silan probably prepared some alchemical tools, like the amulets we made before!"

"That's possible," Fred nodded in agreement.

They said this on purpose, mainly to comfort the nervous Hermione.

She was so nervous that she twisted her hands together in front of her, making her robe all wrinkled.

Although Hermione firmly believes in Silan, it doesn't mean she isn't worried at all.

But they can't see what's happening outside, so they can only wait quietly.

The Basilisk twisted its massive body and quickly arrived in front of Silan, raising its upper body to pounce on him.

At this moment, Silan spoke.

A strange hissing sound rang out.

"Old man, do you remember me?"

Upon hearing Silan's voice, the Basilisk's body stiffened abruptly, and for some unknown reason, its brain began to throb with pain.

Its eyes widened, staring intently at the person in front of it.

Even after searching through all his memories, he could not find him.

But why does the body instinctively resist or even fear him?

This Basilisk has lived for many years, spending most of his life in slumber, yet his physical instincts remain sharp.

It is certain that this almost instinctive fear is not an illusion.

"Hiss..."

The Basilisk flicked its tongue rapidly, the pain in its brain intensifying, preventing it from taking another step.

But Silan was just standing there, doing nothing.

The professors exchanged strange glances.

The ferocious, ruthless, and highly aggressive Basilisk was actually deterred by a single sentence from Prewett?

This is truly incredible.

Snape looked even more astonished.

Did Prewett just say Parseltongue?

Lockhart, such a bumbling fool, could Parseltongue, which was already unbelievable to him, but how could Prewett do it too?

Two Parseltongue were hiding in a tiny Great Hall?

How is that possible?!

Keep in mind, the last person to Parseltongue was Voldemort...

Snape was getting a headache from the jumbled and chaotic thoughts that were swirling in his head.

Actually, Tom was even more upset than him.

When he heard Silan's words, he was stunned for a moment and asked incredulously.

How come you can Parseltongue?

Silan shrugged casually. "Is it difficult?"

This was far too easy for him; he could communicate fluently with anything, not just Basilisk, but even Dragon or Cat Leopard.

Tom was so stunned that he couldn't speak.

Is it difficult?

It's just that other people wouldn't be good at it!

Parseltongue, a language that allows one to communicate with and even control snakes, is spoken by very few people in the entire Wizarding World.

Tom even firmly believed that only true Slytherin descendants could Parseltongue.

He had always considered himself a descendant of Slytherin and was proud of his unique Parseltongue, seeing it as proof of his superiority.

But now, not only does Silan know how, she also casually asks him, "Is it difficult?"

This made Tom feel that what he had always been proud of had suddenly been devalued to nothing, and he felt as disgusted as if he had eaten a large bowl of flies mixed with maggots.

"Don't listen to his nonsense! Keep attacking!" Tom gritted his teeth and ordered the Basilisk again.

So what if you can Parseltongue!

This Basilisk has submitted to me; I am its master!

Tom stared at Silan with malice, his heart filled with anger and jealousy.

But Silan continued to play with the small glass bottle at a leisurely pace.

Upon hearing Silan's Parseltongue, Lee Jordan, who was behind the wooden plank, abruptly pulled his gaze out from the gap in the plank and shouted.

"Parseltongue! He speaks with a Parseltongue too!"

"I saw him talking to the snake, and then the Basilisk stopped."

"There's no mistake, it must be Parseltongue!" Lee Jordan exclaimed excitedly, spitting as he spoke rapidly.

George and Fred were somewhat dismissive.

What's so special about Parseltongue?

Silan can even talk to Dragon and Cat Leopard, which means he can speak in both dragon and cat dialects.

But the other young wizards thought differently.

The young wizards who heard Lee Jordan's shouting became terrified and hurriedly pushed their way out of the Great Hall.

"Slytherin House! And a Parseltongue..."

"Isn't that something only the Dark Lord would do?!"

Hermione turned and glared at the noisy young wizards, speaking in a harsh tone.

"Shut up, all of you! Silan has absolutely nothing to do with the Dark Lord!"

"He is a gentle, kind, sincere, and polite person. This is baseless slander!"

Chris Nott, Noah Bulstrode and Oliver Baker, who had been urged by Silan to learn "Scourgify," grimaced at Hermione's words.

Ah, yes, yes, yes.

Prewett is gentle and friendly; we're the real Dark Lord, aren't we?

Are you kidding me!

How could I not know what kind of person Prewett is?!

As Chris recalled what had happened, he subconsciously touched the top of his head to see if his hair was still there.

Oliver and Noah, on the other hand, neurotically gave themselves a "Scourgify".

They still feel they can always smell a lingering odor of Dungbomb...

Outside the wooden planks, the fighting continued.

Driven by Tom, the Basilisk barely suppressed its fear and resistance and charged at Silan once again.

Its fangs gleamed, exuding a fierce aura.

But Silan simply threw the glass bottle in his hand.

His nonchalant demeanor, however, made Tom feel as if he were facing a formidable enemy. With a wave of his wand, he cast a Spells that shattered the glass bottle in mid-air.

"You won't get away with this!"

Tom looked at the shards of glass on the ground with great pride.

This time, I've disrupted his plans.

They won the game.

But Silan's expression remained calm, and this air of complete control infuriated Tom.

This is how he imagines himself to be.

His planned attacks were interrupted by this guy, which is why he's in such a sorry state now.

Strands of memory emerged from the shattered glass bottle, fluttering and dancing in the air before finally entering the Basilisk's brain.

Its memory returned.