Artoria's Strength

Thanks to reader "20-Year-Old Archmage" for the capsule. Here's an extra chapter!

Tuesday, 3:40 p.m.

Second-floor girls' bathroom.

Zhang Wen, Artoria, and Harry stood before the row of sinks.

Moaning Myrtle was not around today. Zhang Wen had arranged for Fred and George to cause a "toilet explosion" in the fourth-floor bathroom beforehand, and Moaning Myrtle had rushed over to watch the excitement when she heard. The power of gossip was truly formidable.

"This one." Zhang Wen pointed at the snake-shaped marking on the side of the faucet. "Harry Potter, you need to speak Parseltongue to this marking. Say 'open.'"

Harry looked at the tiny snake relief.

"I'm not really sure how to speak Parseltongue 'on purpose,'" he said. "Before, I could only do it naturally when I saw a snake."

"Try imagining a snake," Zhang Wen said.

Harry closed his eyes and focused.

A few seconds later, he opened his mouth.

A string of strange hissing sounds emerged from his mouth. It was not English, nor was it any human language. It sounded like a snake vibrating the air—chilling, piercing syllables.

Goosebumps rose on Zhang Wen's back. No matter how many times he heard Parseltongue, he would never get used to it.

The faucet moved.

The entire sink began to rotate. The tiles and pipes screeched with the sound of metal grinding together. The sink split apart to either side, revealing a huge black circular opening beneath it.

A damp, cold wind carrying the stench of decay surged up from the opening.

Zhang Wen glanced inside.

A bottomless vertical shaft. Its inner walls were covered in green moss and some unidentified liquid. It was around two meters wide, enough for a person—or a snake—to pass through.

"I've changed my mind," Zhang Wen said. "I don't want to go in."

"Too late." Artoria was already checking the equipment at her waist.

Her gear today was different from usual. Instead of robes, she wore a fitted dark-blue combat suit—modified with Transfiguration from two Hogwarts uniforms. Invisible Air hung at her right side, a hand mirror was tucked behind her waist, and a small cloth bag hung from her left hip.

There was a rooster inside the bag.

The rooster had been put under a temporary Sleeping Charm and lay as quietly as a feather pillow.

"Harry Potter." Zhang Wen turned to Harry and handed him a Communication Lens. "Wait here. This mirror lets you communicate with me in real time. If you hear me say 'retreat,' go find Dumbledore immediately."

Harry took the mirror and gripped it tightly.

"And no matter what happens, don't come down."

"I know." Harry's voice was tense, but steady.

Zhang Wen patted him on the shoulder.

Then he walked to the edge of the opening.

He looked down.

Black.

He could see nothing.

"Lumos." He raised his wand. White light flared at its tip, illuminating the first few meters of the shaft walls. Below that was still darkness.

"You first, or me?" Zhang Wen asked Artoria.

"I'll go first."

She did not hesitate.

Artoria stepped to the edge of the opening and glanced into the abyss below.

Then she jumped.

Just like that.

No rope, no Arresto Momentum, no safety measures whatsoever.

Zhang Wen: "..."

Harry: "..."

About three seconds later, a dull thud rose from below—the sound of boots hitting solid ground.

Then Artoria's voice drifted up from the depths of the shaft, echoing as she spoke. "Safe. About fifteen meters deep. There's a slope at the bottom to cushion the fall. You can use Arresto Momentum."

She had jumped fifteen meters herself, then suggested Zhang Wen use Arresto Momentum.

Zhang Wen felt that this was a very Artoria-like kind of thoughtfulness.

"Arresto Momentum." He cast the slowing charm on himself, then slid down through the opening.

The descent was smoother than he had expected. The shaft walls were wet and slippery, but wide enough that he would not hit either side. About five seconds later, his feet landed on a slope littered with rubble and bones.

Bones.

Small animal bones. Rats, birds, and things he did not want to identify. Leftovers from the Basilisk's meals.

The smell was terrible.

Zhang Wen illuminated the surroundings with his wand.

They stood in a massive stone tunnel. It was at least three meters in diameter, enough for a person to walk upright through. Snake reliefs had been carved into the walls, casting twisted shadows under the wandlight.

The standing water on the ground reached their ankles. Every step sent water splashing.

"Forward," Artoria said. She was already five meters ahead.

Zhang Wen followed.

The tunnel was long. They walked for around three minutes before passing a massive shed snakeskin—the Basilisk's old skin, coiled along one side of the tunnel and visibly more than fifteen meters long.

Zhang Wen touched the surface of the snakeskin. It was dry and hard, with the texture of every scale clearly visible.

"This snake is bigger than I expected," he said.

"Its size will not affect the outcome," Artoria said.

At the end of the tunnel stood a stone door. Two coiled snakes were carved into it, their eyes set with green gemstones.

Zhang Wen took out the Communication Lens.

"Harry Potter, can you hear me?"

Harry's voice came from the lens. "I can hear you. Where are you?"

"At the door to the Chamber of Secrets. I need you to speak Parseltongue again—say 'open' into the mirror."

"Okay."

Harry's hissing came through the lens.

The sound traveled through the Communication Lens to the door of the Chamber of Secrets.

The two snakes on the stone door began to move. They each unwound their coiled bodies and slithered apart to either side. The stone door slowly split open, revealing the space within.

The Chamber of Secrets.

Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets.

Zhang Wen raised his wand and lit the way ahead.

A huge rectangular space unfolded before them. The ceiling was at least ten meters high, thick stone pillars lined both sides, and snake patterns were carved upon them. Green light seeped from some unknown source, shrouding the entire chamber in a chilly green glow.

At the far end of the Chamber of Secrets stood a gigantic stone statue—a bearded old man's face that occupied the entire wall.

Salazar Slytherin.

The statue's mouth was closed.

In the original story, the Basilisk was hidden behind that mouth.

"It's in there." Zhang Wen lowered his voice and pointed at the statue.

Artoria nodded.

She untied the cloth bag from behind her waist and set it by the entrance—the rooster was a last resort and would not be needed yet.

Then she drew her sword.

The layer of wind around Invisible Air swirled over the blade. In the dim green light of the Chamber of Secrets, that wind looked like a transparent vortex.

"From now on, I'll keep my eyes closed," Artoria said. "You are responsible for observing and reporting the Basilisk's position. Use directions—with me as the center, like a clock face."

"Understood. Twelve o'clock is straight ahead, six o'clock is directly behind."

"Correct."

She closed her eyes.

Zhang Wen watched her profile as she shut them. In the green light of the Chamber of Secrets, the contours of her face were outlined in sharp lines. Her expression was utterly calm. Her breathing was even.

Exactly the same as when she drank tea.

Facing a thousand-year-old Basilisk, this woman was as calm as if she were drinking tea.

Zhang Wen took a deep breath.

"I'm ready," he said.

"Then begin."

Zhang Wen raised his wand toward the statue's mouth.

He did not know Parseltongue. But he did not need Parseltongue to open that mouth—he could do it physically.

"Bombarda."

An orange beam struck the statue's lips. Stone shattered, exposing the black opening behind them.

A low hiss came from within.

Not Parseltongue. A threat sound born of pure animal instinct.

Like a thousand subwoofers powering on at once.

The walls of the Chamber of Secrets trembled. Ripples spread across the standing water. Dust sifted down from the stone pillars.

Then—

A massive head emerged from the opening.

Zhang Wen forced himself not to look into its eyes. He fixed his gaze firmly on the Basilisk's body—its jaw, neck, scales—anywhere but its eyes.

The Basilisk's head was even larger than he had imagined. It was nearly a meter across. Dark-green scales glinted with a metallic sheen beneath the green light. Its body poured endlessly from the opening, like a black river that would never run dry.

Ten meters. Fifteen meters. Twenty meters.

This thing was at least twenty meters long.

"Twelve o'clock." Zhang Wen's voice was steadier than he had expected. "Fifteen meters away. It's coming out of the opening. Its head is facing us."

Artoria did not move.

She was waiting.

The Basilisk had completely emerged from the opening. It coiled at the statue's feet, its immense body forming several bends across the Chamber of Secrets floor. Its head rose high, only two meters from the ceiling.

It was searching for a target.

Its head turned toward Zhang Wen.

Zhang Wen did not look into its eyes. He stared at the Basilisk's lower jaw—where the scales were slightly lighter, yellowish green.

"It's looking at me. Still twelve o'clock. Twelve meters away."

The Basilisk opened its mouth.

Two rows of enormous fangs. Each one was as long as Zhang Wen's forearm. Clear liquid seeped from their tips—Basilisk Venom, venom capable of destroying Horcruxes.

The Basilisk let out a piercing hiss, and its body shot forward—

Toward Zhang Wen.

"From three o'clock to twelve o'clock, rapidly approaching!" Zhang Wen shouted as he rolled left.

The Basilisk's massive head slammed into the spot where he had just been standing. The floor burst apart. Rubble and standing water sprayed in every direction.

Artoria moved.

Her initial burst of speed was so fast Zhang Wen could not see it—one instant she was standing still, and the next she had appeared at the Basilisk's side.

Excalibur traced an arc through her hand.

Invisible Air still covered the blade—she had not released it. In the enclosed Chamber of Secrets, unleashing Excalibur's radiance at full power would affect Zhang Wen. So she chose a physical strike.

The blade cut into the Basilisk's flank.

The green scales offered no resistance before Excalibur—no matter how thick the Basilisk's hide was, it was like paper before that sword.

The Basilisk released a scream no one had ever heard before.

It was not a hiss. It was a high-frequency, piercing shriek. The entire Chamber of Secrets shuddered beneath it. Zhang Wen felt as if his eardrums were about to burst.

The Basilisk's body lashed violently. Its massive tail swept toward them.

"Six o'clock! Tail!" Zhang Wen shouted.

Artoria leaped upward.

The Basilisk's tail swept past a meter below her feet, smashing two stone pillars. Rubble crashed down in torrents.

Artoria twisted in midair and landed atop a stone pillar that had yet to collapse.

The Basilisk writhed its wounded body, its head swinging wildly from side to side. It was searching for its attacker.

"It's turning toward you! Two o'clock! Eight meters away!" Zhang Wen shouted as he backed away, trying to stay clear of the center of the battle.

Artoria jumped from the stone pillar.

Even with her eyes closed, her posture in the air remained unbelievably precise. Her body remembered the angle and force of every movement. It was the result of decades of knightly training. She did not need her eyes.

She landed on the Basilisk's back.

Excalibur swung down again.

This time, it struck the Basilisk's neck.

It did not cut all the way through. The Basilisk's neck was too thick—nearly half a meter in diameter. One strike had only cut about a third of the way in.

But it was already fatal.

The Basilisk's body began to convulse. Its enormous form rolled across the Chamber of Secrets floor, splashing standing water all the way to the ceiling. Stone pillars collapsed one after another. The entire chamber became a chaotic battlefield filled with rubble, water, and snake blood.

Artoria was thrown off. But the instant she landed, she stabilized herself—her boots planted in the water, her body leaning slightly forward, her sword held across her front.

"Straight ahead! Three meters! It's falling!"

The Basilisk's head crashed down toward Artoria.

It was not an attack. It was an uncontrolled fall. Its more-than-twenty-meter body was making its final struggles, its head smashing toward the ground like a collapsing wall.

Artoria stepped to the right.

One precise step.

The Basilisk's head crashed down less than half a meter to her left.

The ground shook. Standing water splashed all over her.

The Basilisk stopped moving.

Its body still twitched weakly—nerve reflexes—but its life was gone. Dark green blood flowed from the wound in its neck, mixing with the standing water and dyeing the entire floor of the Chamber of Secrets an eerie deep green.

Zhang Wen stood in the distance, panting heavily.

"Is it over?" he asked.

Artoria opened her eyes.

She looked at the enormous serpent's corpse at her feet.

"It's over."

Zhang Wen checked the time.

From the moment the Basilisk emerged until now—four minutes.

Less than ten minutes.

Artoria's estimate had been accurate.

She had even left herself six minutes of leeway.

Zhang Wen stepped forward, carefully circling around the Basilisk's corpse.

He needed its fangs.

The Basilisk's mouth hung half-open. Those enormous venomous fangs gleamed wetly in the green light. Venom was still seeping from their tips—even though the Basilisk was dead, the venom continued to be secreted.

Zhang Wen cast a Severing Charm with his wand and carefully removed two fangs. Each was around thirty centimeters long, curved like a miniature scimitar.

He used Transfiguration to make a wooden box and placed the fangs inside.

"Take these back to Dumbledore," Zhang Wen said. "Use them to destroy the Diary."

Artoria nodded. She put away Excalibur and wrapped it in Invisible Air once more.

Then she looked down at herself.

She was soaked from head to toe. Her dark blue combat uniform was covered in standing water, rubble, and snake blood. Several strands of golden hair had escaped her ponytail and stuck to her cheeks.

She did not look at all like a legendary king who had just slain a thousand-year-old Basilisk.

She looked more like someone who had fallen into a ditch.

"Are you all right?" Zhang Wen walked over to her.

"I'm not injured," Artoria said. She raised a hand to wipe the water from her face, then looked at her hand—it was covered in green snake blood.

She frowned.

"I need a bath," she said.

Zhang Wen looked at her face, which appeared somewhat comical because of the snake blood, and suddenly laughed.

Not a polite laugh. A real laugh, from the bottom of his heart.

Two months of preparation. Mirrors, roosters, pipe diagrams, social networks, the Dueling Club, the meeting with Dumbledore, testing the sword in the Forbidden Forest—all of it had been for this moment.

And the ending of this moment was this: the King of Knights killed the snake, then said, "I need a bath."

"What are you laughing at?" Artoria looked at him.

"Nothing." Zhang Wen stopped laughing. "Let's go. We're heading back."

"Wait."

Artoria turned and walked toward the Basilisk's corpse. She crouched down and carefully inspected its head.

"What is it?"

"Confirming the kill," she said. "I once hunted a dragon in Camelot. After I cut it three times, it suddenly stood back up. Ever since then, I've made a habit of checking."

She tapped the Basilisk's head with the hilt of her sword.

There was no response.

"Confirmed."

She stood and returned to Zhang Wen's side.

The two walked side by side toward the exit of the Chamber of Secrets. The standing water beneath their feet mixed with snake blood, making an unpleasant sound with every step.

"Four minutes," Zhang Wen said.

"Mhm."

"You said ten minutes. It only took four."

"It was weaker than I expected," Artoria said. "A creature that had remained inactive for a thousand years had severely deteriorated bodily functions. Its reaction speed was probably only half of what it had been at its peak."

"Even at its peak, it wouldn't have beaten you, right?"

Artoria thought about it.

"At its peak, it would probably have taken six minutes."

Zhang Wen shook his head.

When they reached the bottom of the shaft, he called into the Communication Lens, "Mr. Potter, mission complete. The Basilisk has been dealt with."

Harry's voice came from the lens, trembling with obvious relief. "Really? Are you all okay?"

"We're fine. We'll be up shortly."

"That's great—I've been waiting here—it feels like I've been waiting for a century—"

Zhang Wen smiled. A twelve-year-old boy had been waiting alone in a dark bathroom for about ten minutes. He was probably so nervous he was about to crush the mirror in his hand.

"Can Arresto Momentum be used in reverse to send someone upward?" Zhang Wen looked at the fifteen-meter-deep shaft.

"Not sure."

"Then how do we get up?"

Artoria examined the inner walls of the shaft. Slick moss covered most of the surface.

Then she bent down, her back facing Zhang Wen.

"Get on."

"What?"

"I'll jump up. You're too heavy for me to carry, but you can hold onto my shoulders."

"You're going to jump fifteen meters with me on your back?"

"Is there a problem?"

Zhang Wen looked at the figure waiting for him with her back bent.

He wanted to say, "There is a problem." He wanted to say, "This is far too undignified." He wanted to say, "If word gets out that an adult man was carried up a shaft by a woman, my dignity as a professor will be finished."

But he looked around—the slick walls, the fifteen-meter height, and his barely adequate physical fitness.

"...You're not allowed to tell anyone after we get up there."

"I won't."

Zhang Wen climbed onto Artoria's back. His arms circled her shoulders.

Her back was solid. Not masculine bulk, but the balanced sense of strength forged through years of swordsmanship training. The lines of her shoulder blades were clear, her spine straight.

Through clothing soaked in snake blood, Zhang Wen could feel the warmth radiating from her body.

Unexpectedly warm.

"Hold tight," Artoria said.

She crouched down.

Then—

She launched herself upward.

Wind howled past his ears. The walls of the shaft flashed past at dizzying speed. Zhang Wen felt as though his stomach had been left behind at the bottom.

About a second and a half later.

Artoria's feet landed steadily on the floor of the second-floor girls' bathroom.

Harry stood three meters away, his mouth forming a perfect O.

Zhang Wen slid off Artoria's back and straightened his robes.

"You didn't see anything just now," he told Harry.

"I saw it," Harry said. "Professor Pendragon carried you up."

"You didn't see anything."

"But I definitely—"

"Mr. Potter. Five points from Gryffindor."

Harry immediately shut his mouth.

The corner of Artoria's mouth twitched.

The three of them walked out of the girls' bathroom.

The corridor was empty. Most students were in class or in their common rooms at this time.

Zhang Wen checked the time—4:20 in the afternoon.

There was an hour and a half until dinner.

"There's enough time," Artoria said.

She was not saying, "There's enough time to find Dumbledore."

She meant, "There's enough time to make it for roast leg of lamb."

Zhang Wen did not correct her priorities.

Because at this moment, they could indeed do both.

"Mr. Potter, you go back first," Zhang Wen said. "Keep this secret for now. Tell Ron Weasley and Hermione after the headmaster announces it."

Harry nodded. He looked at Zhang Wen and Artoria—both drenched and covered in snake blood and rubble—and hesitated for a moment.

"Professor Zhang."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Just two simple words.

But Zhang Wen heard their weight. Harry was not merely thanking them for killing the Basilisk. He was thanking Zhang Wen for treating him, from beginning to end, as a trustworthy partner rather than a child who needed protection.

"Go on," Zhang Wen said.

Harry ran off.

The corridor was once again left with only Zhang Wen and Artoria.

Two people covered in snake blood stood in the second-floor corridor. The mirror on the wall beside them faithfully reflected their current appearance—an absolute disaster.

"We need to get back to the office before anyone sees us," Zhang Wen said.

"Agreed."

The two hurried toward the stairs.

As they passed the Third Floor Corridor, the rooster in the cage beside the mirror spotted them.

The rooster cocked its head and let out a puzzled cluck.

"We don't need you anymore," Zhang Wen told the rooster. "You're off today."

The rooster clucked twice and tucked its head beneath its wing.

The mission was complete.

The Basilisk was dead. They had the fangs. The Diary was waiting to be destroyed. Ginny was safe. The Chamber of Secrets was no longer a threat.

Two months of preparation. A four-minute battle.

Zhang Wen suddenly felt exhausted. Not physically—he had barely moved. It was mental exhaustion. From his first day in this world, he had been preparing for this moment. Now that it was all over, his tightly wound nerves suddenly relaxed, and fatigue washed over him like a tide.

"You're spacing out," Artoria said.

"A little tired."

"Go back, take a bath. Then eat. Then sleep."

"Your solutions are always so simple and direct."

"Effective solutions do not need to be complicated."

Zhang Wen smiled.

"Artoria."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

She looked at him.

"Fighting is my duty. You do not need to thank me."

"I'm not thanking you for killing the Basilisk," Zhang Wen said. "I'm thanking you—for always being here."

Artoria's steps paused.

Only for a very brief moment.

"I told you," her voice was half a note lower than usual, "a knight's loyalty requires no contract."

"I know. But I still wanted to say thank you."

Artoria did not answer.

She continued walking.

But Zhang Wen noticed that the tips of her ears had turned slightly red.

Very, very faintly.

If the wall lamps in the corridor had not happened to shine at that angle, he would never have noticed.

Zhang Wen silently committed that detail to memory.

The King of Knights could blush.

That piece of information was probably more precious than the Basilisk Fang.