It was time, time for me to confront the beast in the Chamber. During these months I have felt it, the pressure not quite prominent as it is right now but it was there one, if observance enough, could see it in how I carried myself, it became more and more noticeable as the deadline I had given my self came closer. The amount of time I have found myself staring into space thinking about this very moment is uncountable, the only respite from it was when I was either with my friends, practicing magic or with Dumbledore training for magical combat. Unexpectedly or not the exercises for mind arts made it a bit easier for me to calm my nerves.
It felt like I was walking to my death, which I probably was but what can one do? If I postponed it now I would never be able to gather my courage at any later date, because Frankly Reading about a Basilisk is different from going to actually face one, there is a possibility that it is still sane enough to be tamed by me. I do hope that this is the possible otherwise I don't think going after a millennia old snake which could kill with a look and was 60-70 foot tall is Ravenclaw like of me. There is no wisdom in this only stupidity, so much so that even Godric Gryffindor himself would say that this is stupid.
For the past few months I have used the ROR to its maximum capabilities and practiced any and every spell that I could use in the fight against The beast, from transfiguration to darkest of magic, my control is enough for me to use Fiendfyre and maintain it for as long as I want but the problem is that if I let it consume the Basilisk it would grow out of control after all the beast is the one of the peak creations of dark magic and trying to use and control so much of it would kill me no doubt and if it doesn't it would affect my magical core which I don't want.
I could have taken help from House elves but they won't allow this to happen as they are loyal to Hogwarts and maintaining its students safety is there top most duty. I have been thinking a lot about how to kill it, the killing curse won't work on it due to its dark nature, it would work but just as effective as a weak stunner just enough for the beast to halt it's movement for just 1 second. My best strategy is to surround it with Fiendfyre limiting it's movement and cut it's head off with a transfigured or conjured object the problem again it's thick hide to overcome that I would have to attack it's mouths inside.
I could also go full transfiguration on it and have a statue warrior animated to fight it with a sphere one hole through its mouth and it would be dead. These two were the most safe, quick and easy methods that I would consider doing. I decided to use a mixture of both methods first the Fiendfyre to limit the snakes movement then the transfigured warrior to finish it off.
Strengthening my resolve I moved toward the chamber entrance. Today was a Saturday perfect to kill a dangerous beast without letting anyone know about it, the exact time was of night a few hours after curfew. I had cast a disillusionment charm on myself and was moving silently through the empty and dark corridors of Hogwarts. I came to the bathroom and one snaky open later I was sliding down the pipes towards my certain death. One more open command later I was in the chamber.
It was cold in the chamber—far colder than it should've been, like the very stone remembered every death that had happened here. The scent of damp rock and something fouler hung in the air, and my boots echoed with every step I took past the serpentine statues. I could feel it watching me before I saw it. Then, the hiss came, long and slow, dragging over the stone like silk laced with venom. It seemed that I didn't need to call it out, it was probably alerted by the opening of the Chamber after so much time.
"Another child of man, come to die beneath the gaze of the old blood," the Basilisk whispered in Parseltongue, its voice a deep, ancient rumble that vibrated in my chest more than in my ears. It's words made me wonder how many have died after finding this chamber and how riddle could control it, probably by appealing to its cruel nature to let it kill as it wished.
"I am not here to die," I answered, my voice steady, though my fingers ached from how tightly I held my wand. "I'm here to end you."
The Basilisk uncoiled like a river of scaled death, massive beyond reason, its yellow eyes flicking toward me. But I was ready. Before it could strike, I raised my wand high and snarled, "*Flagrate Infernum!*" The Fiendfyre burst forth in a roar of hungry, living flame. It twisted and screamed with the forms of beasts—wolves, serpents, wyverns—all gnashing at the edges of the chamber. I shaped it with thought and will, herding the great snake, not to burn it, but to trap it. The fire snarled around the edges of the chamber like a cage of wrath, hemming the creature in, forcing it back from the walls, from any escape. The Basilisk recoiled—not in fear, but in calculation. It hissed again.
$"You play with cursed flame, little wizard. It will consume you before it ever consumes me."$
"Maybe," I whispered, sweat beading on my brow as I guided the Fiendfyre with careful control, my mind stretched to its limit. "But it only needs to keep *you* still."
With my other hand, I shifted my focus. I had prepared for this. I had studied every transfiguration text I could find on animated constructs. I thrust my wand toward the stone floor and shouted, "*Transfigurare: Animus Bellator!*" The stones groaned, cracked, and lifted as a colossal warrior rose from the very floor—ten feet tall, chiselled like a statue of ancient magic. It bore a great iron spear, enchanted to resist venom and guided not by mind but by *my* will. The warrior stepped forward, each movement thudding through the chamber like a drumbeat of war.
The Basilisk turned Its head, massive coils shifting in tension, fangs bared in preparation. But it could not move far—not with the Fiendfyre licking at every attempt to retreat. Still, it didn't cower. It *laughed*—a sickening, slithering sound.
$"You think clay and fire can kill me? I am death scaled and crowned. I am the breathless end."$
But I didn't answer. I couldn't risk my concentration. Every nerve burned with the strain of sustaining two forces at once—the raging Fiendfyre held like a serpent on a leash, and the golem warrior, driven by precision rather than brute force. The warrior closed in. The Basilisk lunged.
For a moment, I thought it would be too fast—even slowed, even restricted, the creature was lightning bound in scales. It struck at the warrior, its fangs crashing into the stone shoulder with a deafening crack. But the golem did not fall. It didn't bleed. It simply *moved*—lifting the great spear, not at the eyes, not at the heart. My plan demanded precision.
With a shuddering lunge, the warrior drove the spear upward, directly into the soft roof of the Basilisk's mouth, just as it reared back for another strike. The metal shrieked against bone as it punched through, deeper, deeper, until the beast let out a sound that shook the pillars of the chamber—a keening wail of agony and defiance.
$"You… speak… the tongue of kings…"$ it hissed, blood pouring like molten emerald from its maw. $"Yet you serve men. Weak… frail… dead men."$
"I serve the future," I whispered.
The Basilisk thrashed once, twice, coiling upon itself in a dying storm. But it could not escape—the fire roared higher as I held it back, guarding against even its death throes. Then… silence. The chamber still. The fire slowly extinguished with a thought, dissolving into ash and steam.
The warrior crumbled back into stone, its duty done.
I stood there, breathing hard, trembling. Not from fear—but from the aftershock of magic that had nearly burned me from the inside out. My robes were soaked in sweat, and the scent of scorched air lingered like a curse. The Basilisk lay still, its body a ruin of ancient terror, its eye—unharmed—glassy and lifeless.
I had faced one of the oldest monsters in the magical world… and won. Alone. After standing there for a while I turned around and went back to get some much needed sleep, it seemed I held the world on my shoulders before and now that I have succeeded in my task I could feel the weight go away. The exploration of the chamber could be done at a later date for now sleep called and I am a loyal companion of it.