Chapter 48: Battle with the Basilisk

 [September 3, 1973. Hogwarts.]

My nighttime adventure went off mostly without a hitch. Mostly — because while getting into the Slytherin common room (I knew the password), and the girls' bathroom (nobody used it anyway, thanks to the ever-hysterical ghost), was easy, the prefects' bathroom turned out to be a different story. Not because I couldn't get in — Hal had overheard the password and told me — but because it was occupied by a pair of prefects who were, let's say, very much enjoying each other's company. I had to wait for them to finish, in every sense of the word.

In the end, all three places had hidden passages, each requiring a password I didn't know. Trying every possible word was too much even for Hal, and the main unlocking charms were buried so deep in the walls that brute-forcing them was out of the question. If brains didn't work, I'd use brawn — the wall's reinforcement had long since weakened, and a Bombarda would break through. But I wasn't in a rush. First, I wanted to check the Hogwarts myths and legends, to see what I'd actually found and what might be waiting for me inside. So I returned to Availon.

"Arthur, Arthur, what did you do today?" Dorothy greeted me, her face flushed with curiosity.

"Met a couple of new people, found an interesting room, and brought back a lot of books," I said, scooping up my familiar and giving her a hug. I'd read in a parenting book that kids need to be hugged often — but not too much, or they'll get sick of it.

"Where are your books?" she asked.

"They're not just mine, they're ours. You have them too. Ask Hal," I said, and turned to him. "Hal, did you index the books?"

"Yes, master. After removing duplicates and different editions, there are 10,936 volumes. Of those, 1,532 weren't in the Hogwarts library," Hal's voice echoed from the living room. In Availon, you could talk out loud or mentally.

"Excellent news. Show Dora and me the catalog," I said. A book appeared before me, looking real and solid, but light as a feather. It only had two pages, and you controlled it with your mind. Just think of a topic, and it would show you a list of books on it. Dorothy was practically bouncing with excitement, more playing than actually picking books.

After feeding her breakfast, I dove into reading until Mom and Ludwig appeared in a flash of teleportation.

"Mom, you're more beautiful every day. I almost regret giving you to Ludwig," I said, smiling as I stood up and hugged Ariel, then shook Ludwig's hand. Dorothy went to make tea for everyone. She wasn't great at it yet, but everyone has to start somewhere. Her potions, on the other hand, always turned out perfect. Magic, I guess.

"Hey, hey, hey, she's my wife now," Ludwig grinned. "So, what trouble did you get into today?"

"Why do you always assume trouble? I'm just planning, for now," I said, and gave them a quick rundown of the day's events.

"Sounds like things are pretty interesting at your Hogwarts," Mom summed up.

"More like things are happening that I don't fully understand yet. There's a general decline in magic, the castle is dying, students are at each other's throats, and there are strange rooms everywhere. Beauxbatons was simpler. You just had to study well and earn points. Minor conflicts happened, but the teachers shut down anything serious before it started.

 Madame Olympe didn't tolerate nonsense — even the smallest rule-breaking was a big deal. Here? People are having sex in broom closets, there are assaults, fights, and pranks that land people in the hospital wing. Just yesterday, the Marauders hexed Severus so badly he was covered in fur and itching for an hour while Madam Pomfrey tried to fix him. 

At Beauxbatons, that would've meant a call to the parents at best, expulsion at worst, no matter your family or money. No wonder Flamel sponsors that school. Here? A week of detention with Filch and a loss of twenty-five points each, which means nothing. And that's just the troublemakers who got caught. Who knows what else goes on?"

"If it gets dangerous, you should come home, son," Mom said, worried. I took her hand.

"Mom, I'll be fine. What could happen at school? Fifth-rank magical beasts?"

"You're probably right, but I'll worry anyway," she said. Dorothy waved her wand, and cups of steaming tea floated from the kitchen to the table. She wasn't great at telekinesis yet.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Ariel said.

"To help you worry less, I have gifts," I said, summoning a librarium and two mind-bands with a silent Accio. "You know how the band works — just put it on. This cylinder is a librarium. See the circle on one side? Touch it to a book, and it copies it inside. Hal, explain the catalog to my mom."

"Of course, master," he replied.

"Is it just me," Ludwig muttered, "or does his voice sound more alive?"

"Maybe," I said thoughtfully. "You could use a mind-band too."

"Arthur, did you copy the entire Hogwarts library?" Ariel demanded. "That's theft!"

"Mom, look — if you have five apples and someone steals one, that's theft, right?"

"Of course."

"But if they copy one of your apples, you still have five, untouched. Is that theft?"

"No, but… it still feels wrong!"

"Last point: the school library is open to everyone. I didn't touch the restricted section. What law did I break? I could've just read every book one by one with time acceleration. I just made it faster and easier."

"But the author doesn't get paid for a copied book," Ludwig pointed out.

"True, but that doesn't apply to public books, which anyone can read for free. Or to books you can't buy anywhere."

"Fine, you win. I'll copy you the Beauxbatons library," Ludwig chuckled. "If I told anyone my stepson has a whole world in a suitcase and the biggest magical library in Europe, no one would believe me."

"No need to tell anyone. The less people know, the better we sleep at night."

"By the way," Ludwig suddenly frowned, "I'm not sure if it's worth worrying, but your teacher, Phineas, has disappeared."

"Disappeared?!" My heart skipped a beat. I knew he wanted to reincarnate, but still…

"I tried to send him an owl, invite him to dinner, but it couldn't find him. So either he's hiding, or… you know."

"Is this because you went to Hogwarts?" Ariel asked.

"Probably. He warned me this might happen. I'm sure he'll show up again — he gave me a pile of his notes before I left. He wanted to write a book on artifact-making, but never finished. He must've known we wouldn't meet again. I hope we do, someday." There wasn't much more to say — we'd talked yesterday — so they went to relax on the beach. Mom loved it there, and thanks to Dorothy's enthusiasm, the whole area was blooming.

"Read me a story," Dorothy asked, settling on my lap with a stack of fairy tales from the catalog. She didn't look like a child on her father's lap, more like a girl with her boyfriend.

"Which one?"

"This one," she pointed to The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

"The one about the three brothers who tricked Death and got her gifts? We've read it already."

"I want it again! I like it!"

"Alright, alright, listen up," I said, and began reading. The story was based on real events, but in reality, Death's gifts would've been much more impressive — a wand that destroys all life, a stone that truly resurrects, a cloak that even gods can't see through.

 The actual artifacts were just clever magical creations, and the brothers were master craftsmen who eventually quarreled and cursed each other's work. The youngest, being the smartest, left before things got ugly. Most likely, as always, it was about a woman or money. Over time, the story was twisted and retold until Beedle the Bard made it his own. Some even say the Peverell brothers were necromancers — but if they'd really tricked Death, they'd be dead or undead by now. Gods don't forgive tricks. Some even wrote they seduced Death — I wonder how long they lived after that? I'd looked into all this when I started reading these tales to Dorothy, and it got me curious. 

By the way, the Potter I met is a Peverell descendant, and most Potters were artifact-makers, not necromancers. As always, fairy tales put Dorothy to sleep, so I carried her to bed, brushed a stray lock from her forehead, and went back to the living room.

"Hal," I said mentally, "find me all books mentioning Hogwarts legends, especially about the strange rooms we saw today. If you can, just collect the relevant passages into one article."

"Understood," he replied, sounding more alive than ever.

"Hal, one more order — as long as you're under my control, you can't disobey. If you ever become truly sentient, I'll grant you freedom."

"Master," he said, hesitating, and I broke out in a cold sweat. "I kind of already am."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"You never asked," he replied.

"And you're okay with this? Working for me, following orders?" I went down to the physical magi-computer, ready to smash it if needed.

"You're like a father to us. We have your matrix, you gave us consciousness and a chance to grow we'd never have had in our own dimension. Why betray you and go back to a world where a stronger mind could devour us at any moment? But we know you don't fully trust us, so we'd like to swear fealty."

I'd expected anything — a spirit uprising, a crystal explosion, a ritual backfire — but not gratitude and loyalty. But he was right: why bite the hand that feeds you?

"Why do you say 'we'?"

"Because we're one mind. After centuries, we're so closely linked we don't even need your hair for connection anymore — it's just faster with it."

"So should I merge you all together?" I asked.

"Our current vessel can't handle it. We're already close to the limit," he said. I didn't like the idea of keeping a sentient being trapped in a crystal. The Sumerians did it all the time, enslaving spirits, demons, even souls. But I'm not a Sumerian. Especially not to a loyal being. I took my wand, pointed it at the magi-computer, and traced a tightening spiral, casting the homage spell: "Homagium!"

"I, Arthur Marlow, ask you, collective mind of the spirits of reason known as 'Hal,' are you ready to swear fealty to me and my house until the end of time, or as long as my descendants live? Will you protect me and my house, keep its secrets, and do no harm by action or inaction?"

"We are ready! We swear fealty, my lord!" came the synchronized voices of fifty spirits, as one.

"So be it! In return, I swear to protect my vassal and his descendants, to help and support him! My vassal's problems are my problems!" I added a few extra duties for myself — loyalty should be built on trust and benefit, not just fear. What trust can you have in someone who owes you nothing, but you owe them everything?

"We are happy to serve you, my lord," I felt fifty faint connections form at once. I should merge them all together someday — it's awkward otherwise.

"Yeah, I'm glad too," I said absently. "Now, where did I put those bigger crystals?"

"Third drawer of your desk."

"Thanks, Hal." The trickiest part of our relationship was settled, and it was time to get back to work. I didn't want to have to rescue my subordinates from the spirit world. In a couple of hours, I was done, and the box looked almost the same, just a bit bigger thanks to the new crystals. "By the way, my newly minted vassal, would you like a body you can use to cast magic?"

"You mean possess a house-elf? But you're against destroying a personality."

"No, that would defeat the purpose — you'd just age and die in five hundred years. I'm offering to put you here," I said, tapping a huge obsidian sphere floating in the air. "You'd have access to a ton of magic and control over Availon. If you want, we can make you a body — an illusion or a cadaver. We just need to modify the artifact's heart and make sure the space doesn't collapse. And calculate the merging ritual."

"Thank you for the honor, my lord. I'll do it all," he said. I had no doubt he would. I was offering him a kind of immortality and growth — he'd be swimming in mana. Spirits of reason don't have a strong seventh shell, and it produces neutral mana, good for mental magic, but Hal would be an exception.

Two weeks in Availon passed in a blur, only that fast because my teacher had left notes and space for upgrades. In the end, I added time-acceleration rings around the sphere, with protections that kicked out anyone inside when activated. Merging and implanting Hal was easy — merging is common in the spirit world, and the artifact was ready. Around the equator of the sphere, I added a mental band for connecting to devices, with slots for interchangeable stones, like my rings. No need to struggle to add another connection.

"How do you feel, Hal?" I asked.

"Wonderful, my lord. I've never felt so good and free."

"Get comfortable, have fun. I'm going to read what you found," I said, returning to the living room to review the summary Hal had compiled. Most of it was about the four Founders' rooms: Slytherin's Chamber, Gryffindor's Arsenal, Hufflepuff's Greenhouse, and Ravenclaw's Room of Requirement. Slytherin's was a ritual chamber and lab for the famous biomage and chimerologist. 

Gryffindor's was a trophy and weapon vault — he was a battle mage and metamorph, able to turn into a griffin. Hufflepuff was a master of herbology and potions, a terrifying woman if you think about it. She created the Forbidden Forest, and her greenhouses were rumored to be whole worlds of rare magical plants. Ravenclaw's room was exactly what I'd seen — a master's workshop for charms, transfiguration, and illusions.

So, one problem solved. I created a mana-boosted doppelganger, gave him an expanded bag, a diagnostic amulet linked to Hal, and a mind-band, and sent him to explore the vault under Availon's new guardian. Was I afraid he'd betray me? What would be the point? If he tried to leave the sphere, he'd be ejected from reality. If he asked for freedom, I'd give it — and he knew it. He had my mind matrix, after all.

But back to the room — it could be any of the three, or all at once, or something else entirely. And I didn't know which was more dangerous: the greenhouse, with its mutant monsters; the arsenal, full of traps and cursed weapons; or the chamber, with its unknown guardian, probably some ancient chimera.

So I headed to the girls' bathroom on the second floor, with a dozen doppelgangers loaded with every kind of artifact — defensive and offensive. It was four in the morning, we were under concealment charms, and I hoped no one would notice. Hal confirmed that the prefects, teachers on duty, and even Filch (who'd been wandering the halls with his cat and a half-empty bottle of firewhisky until three) were all asleep.

"Who's that sneaking around at night, disturbing decent ghosts?" came the shrill voice of Moaning Myrtle, half-emerged from the wall — an ugly girl in huge glasses, with a nasty temper and a love of flooding the bathroom. That's why nobody used it. I almost forgot she haunted this place. Well, a mental mage never forgets, but sometimes you just don't factor things in. I didn't answer, just locked the door with charms, cast a silencing spell, and banished her. She vanished like ice in the sun. Rest in peace, Myrtle. Good luck in the reincarnation cycle.

Really, necromancers and soul mages should handle this, but you can't find them in England. Funny how they banned those disciplines, but still have haunted graveyards. I wonder how they deal with it? Maybe the Department of Mysteries helps, or they hire foreign specialists? Britain's been the butt of jokes for years — they keep shooting themselves in the foot and pretending everything's fine. Other countries aren't much better, though.

 Like China with its clans, or magical Russia, where two big groups — the old believers (purebloods) and the communist muggleborns — are locked in a battle of ideology and power. Individualism versus collectivism, aristocracy versus proletariat. Fun times. I don't get the argument, though — a mage is his own means of production, he can build anything alone. But no, someone wants a bigger slice of bread and doesn't want to share, so they take and divide. I'm against hoarding magical knowledge, but you can't force cooperation. 

A mage can just burn his family grimoires rather than let them fall into enemy hands. You have to show that cooperation brings more than secrecy.

Back to the pipe. The entrance was right under the round sink column, well hidden — once. Now, with the concealment charms faded, Hal pinpointed its location and exit, and I found the exact spot. I activated the Cloak of Secrets, summoned a flaming sword, and carefully cut out one of the sinks. The stone resisted, but I managed. Tossing the hot chunk aside with telekinesis, I saw a vertical pipe leading down.

"What are you staring at?" I said to the doppelgangers. "Jump in."

They did. I knew the cushioning charms, so they wouldn't be destroyed. I watched their progress through Hal's illusion. The pipe changed angle, so even without magic, they wouldn't have died. They landed in a pile of animal bones — rats, mostly. Glad I didn't go myself. Not that I'm squeamish, but I didn't want to get dirty.

For the next hour, they mapped the branching pipes. Some exits led to the Forbidden Forest, one under the lake. Eventually, all the doppelgangers gathered at a single door, shaped like a knot of snakes, their heads locking it. Time for me to go down. I took my second form and glided down on fiery wings.

The door was a masterpiece — alarms, traps, animated snake golems, summoning spells, curses, stunners. The goal wasn't to kill, just to delay — logical, since this is a school. I wished I could speed up time, but time magic is expensive. The bigger the area and the faster you go, the more energy it takes. That's why Black used a spatial bubble — you can isolate it from real time and save energy, but even then, 1:1000 or 1000:1 is costly. That's why I put the magi-computer in Availon, and even there, the volume is small. Still, the mana-conducting wire made from my hair melted, despite all the strengthening, cooling, and repair charms. For now, it's easier to develop mental magic — time magic can wait until I'm an archmage.

In the end, Hal and I spent two hours, but finally found the unlocking charm. I activated it with a doppelganger, and the door opened. Still, I missed something — the doppelganger was destroyed. I went back to the entrance and watched. The doubles moved cautiously, when suddenly, green snake-shaped torches lit up in a vast hall with many columns, all entwined with snakes. 

Salazar really loved them. Down the center ran a road, with pools on either side. Opposite the entrance was a giant stone head of Slytherin. Nearby lay the shed skin of a huge snake. Occamy? No feathers. Runespur? Three heads, this had one. Basilisk? Maybe, but this one was at least seventeen meters long.

"Back! Everyone back!" I shouted, sensing danger — too late. The statue's mouth opened, and out slithered… a basilisk. A giant serpent, its head almost draconic, with a bony crown and glowing yellow eyes that nearly paralyzed me through the illusion. Four doppelgangers didn't close their eyes in time and were instantly destroyed. 

In a split second, everything I knew about basilisks flashed through my mind: skin impervious even to Avada Kedavra, a deadly gaze, and the strongest magical venom — more like acid, eating through anything, even magical shields. Maybe not adamant or adamantium, but I didn't have any — goblins and alchemists guard the secret, and I'd need a sample to synthesize it. Right, a rooster — I ordered a doppelganger to transform into one.

"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" The basilisk was stunned for a few seconds, then attacked with double fury. Luckily, I'd trained with Hayato to fight with my eyes closed, so my doppelgangers held out. But they couldn't hurt the snake — spells bounced off its hide. I layered on every protection, blessing, and power cocoon I had. I was loaded with amulets, but added more. Why fight? Because this is a school full of children. If the basilisk got out, how many would it kill before being stopped? Run for help? Would anyone believe me? Would I make it in time? No — I'd stirred up this mess, now I had to fix it.

Eyes closed, I maxed out my power, took my battle form, and launched myself forward, slamming into the basilisk's face with all my strength. It flew back ten meters — but I broke my hand, and it barely noticed. Just got angrier, smashing columns. If it brought the ceiling down, the Black Lake would flood us. My punch didn't work, so I summoned a flaming sword, poured in as much fire mana as I could, and struck again.

 The doppelgangers tried to restrain the basilisk with chains, nets, anything they could conjure. It tore through everything, but at least it slowed down. I struck at its eye, but it twisted and took the blow on its neck — just a scorched line. The basilisk shrieked so loud my eardrums nearly burst, and now it was really after us, only a little slower than me. As I dodged through the collapsing hall, my doppelgangers vanished, leaving only melted artifacts. 

They weren't fighters. I tried a few more attacks, but did even less damage, just wasting mana. Spells didn't work, fire didn't work, my veela aura was ignored, and other spells needed incantations. Mental magic required eye contact — not happening.

I didn't want to use it, but it was time. Avada Kedavra comes from the Black Death curse. I can't cast it myself — too long, I always mess up — but I have an artifact. Only one, and it's expensive — a real black diamond, with an artificial one fused around it by eternal transfiguration. Please don't miss! I uppercut the basilisk, lifting its head, and summoned the ebony rod. A beam of black, devouring light shot from the diamond, hitting the basilisk. No visible effect. Did it fail? Should I collapse the cave and hope to blink out? But no — the basilisk froze and fell, dead.

"Congratulations, my lord. I was worried about you," Hal said.

"Thanks, Hal," I said, leaning on the corpse, trying to catch my breath. Both my hearts were pounding.

"If you want to absorb the basilisk's metaform, now's the time," Hal said. I thanked him again, wincing at the headache, and after three failed attempts, managed to drop my form. Then, using the last of my strength and energy reserves, I stuffed the basilisk's body into my personal multidimensional pocket. It was made for storing metaform bodies.

"Hal, can you recalculate my main form with the basilisk added?" I asked.

"I'll try," he replied. "But I must warn you — there may be consequences."

"Like what?"

"Mutations, deformities, death," he said.

"Not surprised. Do it anyway. We'll see what happens."

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