40 - Time to Harvest

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"What a terrible power... Is this your real strength? But....is it enough? I don't know If this is enough."

Lucius's gaze bore into Wes, his expression shifting between awe and unease. The sheer magnitude of power radiating from the young wizard sent a shiver down his spine. He had always known Wes was formidable, but witnessing it firsthand was something else entirely.

Ms. Bones parted her lips in shock, unable to mask her astonishment. For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw the shadow of Dumbledore in Wes—an uncanny resemblance in both power and presence. Realizing her lapse in composure, she quickly pressed her lips together, but the disbelief lingered in her chest, heavy and unshakable.

Umbridge, who had been fleeing moments ago, had now slunk behind Dumbledore, her breath shallow and uneven. She peeked out cautiously, her usually haughty demeanor replaced by something far more vulnerable—fear. Never in her wildest nightmares had she imagined Wes to be capable of such devastating magic. And to stand against a basilisk of all things? It made her stomach churn.

But Wes had no time to acknowledge their reactions. His focus remained locked on the towering serpent before him.

From the inferno it had been engulfed in, the basilisk emerged unscathed, its massive, scaled body cutting through the flames like a shadow from a nightmare. The firelight gleamed off its obsidian-like scales, undamaged and smooth, as if untouched by the destruction around it.

Wes wasn't surprised. A creature as ancient and powerful as the basilisk wouldn't be so easily bested. If it were, it wouldn't have earned its place as one of the wizarding world's deadliest beasts.

Though its eyes were bound, blindness meant little to such a creature. It was a predator by nature, an apex killer that could perceive the world through vibrations, scent, and primal instinct alone.

The basilisk's guttural hiss echoed through the chamber, dripping with primal hunger. Its monstrous form lunged forward, a tidal wave of muscle and power, its sheer size alone enough to shake the very foundation of the chamber.

Wes didn't hesitate. With a single, fluid motion of his wand, the ancient serpent carvings coiled around the chamber's stone pillars trembled—then broke free. They slithered down, their rigid stone forms twisting into something impossibly lifelike. They flicked their tongues, their bodies undulating with eerie grace before surging toward the basilisk in an undulating wave of stone and magic.

The chamber became a battlefield. Wes's summoned serpents were swift, relentless, striking at the basilisk from every angle, their fangs seeking purchase in its armored flesh. But the size disparity was undeniable. The basilisk tore through them as if they were mere twigs, sending shattered stone and dust flying with every powerful swipe of its massive tail. The ground quaked with every impact, and Wes could feel the raw power behind each movement.

It wasn't enough.

The basilisk was nearly upon him. The wind from its advance whipped at his robes, and the sheer force of its presence pressed against his skin like an impending storm.

Then, Wes moved.

With a flick of his wrist, the air itself seemed to shift. From nowhere, a roaring torrent of water surged into existence, a colossal, swirling force that swallowed the basilisk whole. It crashed against the serpent's body with the weight of a waterfall, the deafening rush of the current reverberating through the chamber.

But even within the torrent, the basilisk fought, its monstrous frame pushing forward against the suffocating current, muscles straining to break free. It wouldn't go down so easily.

Wes's lips parted, and from them came a single, measured breath.

"Huh~~"

A bitter chill swept through the chamber. The temperature plummeted instantly, breath turning to mist in the frozen air. The water solidified in a matter of seconds, encasing the basilisk in an unyielding prison of ice. The chamber transformed into a crystalline tomb, the reflection of the frozen beast casting an eerie glow across the room.

A heavy silence settled over the chamber.

Lucius inhaled sharply, his thoughts racing. This power... this level of control... If Wes and Dumbledore stood together, not even the Dark Lord at his peak could stand against them.

Ms. Bones, still in stunned silence, now saw Wes not as a mere young wizard, but as something far greater—someone whose strength and intelligence eclipsed his years.

And Umbridge...

Her hands trembled. A shiver ran down her spine, but not from the cold. This boy... this dangerous boy... She had spent years believing in the Ministry's authority, its absolute control over wizards. But Wes? Wes was something the Ministry could not control.

Her lips parted, a nervous exhale escaping as she muttered, "It seems the basilisk is not that—"

"Shut up."

The words were quiet, but the weight behind them was suffocating.

Umbridge froze.

For a moment, she doubted her own ears. Did he just—?

She turned to face Wes, but his piercing gaze cut straight through her, his expression as cold as the ice he had conjured.

"I said shut up."

The authority in his voice sent a fresh wave of fear coursing through her, and she instinctively took a step back.

Then—the ice cracked.

A jagged fissure ran down the frozen basilisk's body. The sound of shattering ice filled the chamber as the beast moved. Even encased in its frozen coffin, its monstrous vitality refused to wane.

Wes sighed, his lips curving into something between amusement and calculation.

"Then let's be a little more... aggressive."

His gaze drifted upward, settling on the looming figure of Salazar Slytherin's massive stone statue. A smirk played on his lips.

"Let your master deal with you."

With a swift motion of his wand, the air pulsed with raw, ancient magic. The chamber trembled violently as if awakening from centuries of slumber. The towering statue of Salazar Slytherin groaned, dust cascading from its form as its stone limbs began to move.

Lucius and Ms. Bones could only stare in shock as the lifeless effigy of Slytherin came to life.

Dumbledore chuckled, tapping his head. "Ah, why didn't I think of that? Young minds truly are inventive."

Ms. Bones, however, eyed the crumbling ceiling with worry. "This place won't hold much longer—"

"Not a problem," Dumbledore assured, lifting his hand. With a simple wave, a gentle golden light wrapped around the chamber, stabilizing the structure as if time itself had reversed.

Wes, now unconcerned with structural integrity, turned his full attention to the basilisk.

The beast had barely recovered when Slytherin's massive stone hands grasped it.

And then, with an almost careless motion—

The basilisk was slammed into the ground.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The impacts sent shockwaves through the chamber, each blow a merciless hammer of stone and magic.

Dumbledore winced. "Brutal... very brutal."

The others could only watch in stunned silence as one of the wizarding world's deadliest creatures was repeatedly used as a bludgeon against the earth.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the basilisk lay still, its monstrous body motionless.

Wes flicked his wand, scanning for any lingering signs of life. Finding none, he turned away.

"It's done. The rest is yours, Professor."

Dumbledore gave a slow nod as Wes strode away, his expression unreadable.

But as the others left, Wes allowed himself a smirk.

With a snap of his fingers, Zandi stepped from the shadows, suitcase in hand.

"Now... time for the real prize."