The Chamber of Secrets reeked with the acrid stench of basilisk blood.
"Hiss—" Severus Snape sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers fumbling with the straps of his mask.
When the grime-stained mask was finally removed, he greedily inhaled a few gulps of relatively fresh air, only to realize that as the thrill of battle faded, his hands were trembling uncontrollably.
He sat on the damp floor of the chamber, each breath bringing a stab of pain. Gritting his teeth, he pulled two potion vials from his robes.
After downing the deep purple pain-relief potion, a cooling sensation spread from his stomach to his entire body, instantly easing his pain. Next came the silver healing potion. As he drank it, a tingling itch spread from his broken ribs, the bones rapidly knitting themselves back together under the potion's magic.
Regaining some strength, he carefully carried Dobby to a spot near the chamber's entrance, gently placing the house-elf on a flat stone slab.
"Thank you, little one," Snape whispered, brushing the dust off Dobby's small frame.
The house-elf's face still held a furious expression. His reddish-brown complexion had turned a ghastly gray under the effects of petrification.
Snape's gaze shifted to the other end of the chamber, where the roosters, enlarged by an Engorgement Charm, stood mostly still, eyes closed as if resting. Their vibrant feathers stood out vividly in the dim chamber, their red combs blazing like flames.
Only the speckled rooster still strutted arrogantly, pecking at the ground with its sharp beak, feasting on scattered bits of basilisk flesh.
"Come here, cluck-cluck," Snape called, pursing his lips to summon the heroes of the hour to a safer spot.
The roosters raised their heads haughtily, ignoring his call. The speckled one even shot him a disdainful glance.
Narrowing his eyes, Snape assessed the positions of the fallen stones around them. These creatures were clearly cleverer than he'd expected. Turning to his wand, he pointed at the scattered debris and incanted, "Reparo!"
With a wave of his wand, the broken stones leapt into the air, seamlessly reassembling into pillars and ceiling, thudding back into their original places with a rumbling roar.
The deafening noise of the stones snapping into place finally startled the roosters awake. They flapped their wings, clucking and scattering in all directions.
When the last stone settled, the chamber was restored to its original state. Salazar Slytherin's stone statue still loomed with its gaping mouth, its hollow eyes staring blankly at everything.
The only difference was the lifeless, scale-strewn basilisk sprawled before Snape. Its massive body was riddled with wounds, its yellow-green eyes half-open, devoid of all luster.
Snape approached the basilisk slowly, stopping ten feet away. Raising his wand cautiously, he muttered, "Diffindo!"
The spell struck, and a large patch of scales shattered, black blood splattering onto the ground like a sudden rain. The basilisk didn't stir—it was truly dead. Snape relaxed, a faint, almost imperceptible smile curling his lips.
He pulled a pair of dragonhide gloves from his satchel and slipped them on, carefully reaching toward the basilisk's head.
Its gaping maw revealed venomous fangs glinting coldly, with traces of venom still seeping from its jaw.
Holding his breath, Snape plunged a goblin-forged dagger deep into the basilisk's jaw, up to the hilt. The venom trickled along the handle, hissing as it made contact with the blade's surface.
The weapon to destroy a Horcrux was now secured. Snape nodded in satisfaction.
He wasn't about to let the basilisk's valuable parts go to waste.
Pointing his wand at the basilisk's teeth, he noted that unlike ordinary snakes, every one of its fangs was infused with venom.
With a Levitation Charm, the first curved fang wobbled under his guidance and was yanked free. He swiftly moved it to a prepared dragonhide bag. One, two, three… by the twentieth fang, the basilisk's mouth was bare.
"And the scales…" He glanced at the roosters, now eagerly pecking at the basilisk's exposed flesh. "And the meat." Considering their contribution to the battle, he shook his head, permitting their feast. "Eat your fill. You've earned it."
He began collecting the basilisk's scattered scales. Each dark green scale was the size of his palm, their edges sharp as knives. They could be used to craft top-tier armor or brew rare potions.
After carving up Slytherin's legacy, a wave of exhaustion washed over Snape. He leaned against a cold stone pillar to rest, mentally calculating the value of his spoils.
"At least three to five thousand Galleons," he mused, a spark of energy returning at the thought. "This is a serpent king that's lived for over a thousand years."
He pulled out stacks of parchment, reinforced them with charms, and used them to wrap the basilisk's components, storing them in a bag enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm.
Despite a Weightlessness Charm, the bag was astonishingly heavy. As he tucked it into his robes, the fabric sagged noticeably.
"Now, it's your turn. Let's go back," Snape said to the roosters, raising his wand. "Reducio!"
The spell's light flashed, but the roosters remained unchanged, still the size of hounds. Snape raised an eyebrow in surprise and tried again, with the same result.
"Could it be… eating the basilisk's flesh granted you magical resistance?" he murmured in awe. "You're no ordinary roosters anymore, are you?"
The roosters puffed out their chests proudly, as if confirming his suspicion. One even spread its wings, flapping them to stir a small whirlwind.
Snape pondered for a moment before deciding to set the issue aside. He needed to get Dobby to the hospital wing quickly.
"Alright, big fellows, follow me."
He tore strips from his robes, securing Dobby to his back, and used the original rope to tether the seven roosters together. The mutated creatures followed obediently, though their gazes remained haughty.
Hagrid trained them well, Snape thought. These roosters were docile enough—at least they weren't attacking him.
Wand aglow, Snape, with Dobby on his back and roosters in tow, headed out of the chamber.
"Let's go, Dobby. We're leaving this place," he said softly, though the petrified elf couldn't hear.
Through the dim, echoing chambers, they returned to the tunnel.
The tunnel wound upward, Snape's footsteps and the roosters' occasional clucks reverberating in the narrow space.
After countless turns, they reached the pipe's entrance.
Snape pulled out his Nimbus 2000 broom, stowed his wand, and clumsily mounted it.
"Up!" he commanded. The broom wobbled into the air, moving at a maddeningly slow pace.
At this rate, he'd reach the surface by next year. Perhaps he shouldn't have cheaped out on the broom, Snape thought wryly.
Suddenly, the roosters flapped their wings, soaring past him. Their powerful tug nearly yanked him off the broom.
"What—" he exclaimed, gripping the broom tightly and clutching the rope.
The roosters pulled him upward through the pipe, cold air whipping through his hair and robes. Snape quickly regained his composure, finding unexpected joy in this bizarre mode of flight.
The journey was short. In moments, he landed on the damp floor of the bathroom.
The sink concealing the pipe slid back into place, erasing all traces.
In the bathroom's dim light, the roosters looked particularly majestic, their eyes gleaming, their long tail feathers swaying proudly as if awaiting Snape's praise.
"Impressive, you lot," Snape said earnestly to the poultry, waving his wand to clean the dust and blood from his robes.
After letting Nagini slither back into his robes, he untied Dobby, gazing at the elf's rigid face. He decided to leave the roosters in the bathroom for now.
"Stay here," he told the preening roosters. "I'll be back."
The evening corridors were empty, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls.
Carrying Dobby, he headed to the hospital wing on the same floor.
When he pushed open the hospital wing door, Madam Pomfrey was dozing in an armchair, her head nodding, a copy of The Daily Prophet clutched in her hand.
The sound roused her, and her eyes snapped to the elf in Snape's arms.
"What happened?" She stood, striding toward the door and directing Snape to place Dobby on the nearest bed. "Over here." Her voice was hoarse from sleep but instantly professional.
Madam Pomfrey examined Dobby, her brow furrowing. "He's been petrified," she declared, looking up at Snape. "Are you hurt, Snape?" Her gaze swept over his tattered robes.
"No," Snape said curtly, then couldn't help adding, "Will Dobby be alright?"
"He's in no danger. Don't worry, I'll take care of him," Madam Pomfrey said sternly, pulling the curtains around the bed. "But what exactly happened? A standard Petrification Charm wouldn't cause this."
"Er, a magical mishap," Snape explained.
"Students shouldn't be conducting dangerous Dark Magic experiments in school," Madam Pomfrey said sharply. "You know that. Stay here. I'm informing the headmaster."
"There's no need to bother the headmaster, Madam Pomfrey," Snape said. "It was just an accident."
"I don't think so," she huffed, storming out of the hospital wing.
"Fine," Snape muttered, shrugging. He stepped around the curtain to Dobby's bed. He hadn't planned to tell Dumbledore so soon, but hiding anything in this castle was near impossible. So be it.
He gently adjusted the pillow under Dobby's head for comfort.
Then, he walked to the window, gazing past the swaying Whomping Willow toward the Quidditch pitch in the twilight.
No match was scheduled today, but a few blurry figures still soared on broomsticks, chasing each other in the fading sunlight.
Soon, the hospital wing door was knocked again. Madam Pomfrey returned with Professor Dumbledore.
"What happened to Dobby, Severus?" Dumbledore approached the bed, pulling back the curtain to study the elf. His long, crooked nose nearly brushed Dobby's gray, rigid face. Peering through his half-moon spectacles, he prodded gently here and there.
Muttering odd phrases, Dumbledore tapped Dobby with his wand. The elf remained unresponsive, lying stiff as a fresh specimen.
Finally, Dumbledore straightened.
"As you said, he's not dead," he told Madam Pomfrey softly. "I know a potion that can revive him. But, Poppy, could you give Severus and me a moment alone?"
Madam Pomfrey nodded and retreated to her office.
"Severus, we need to talk," Dumbledore said, his tone gentle but firm. "Decades ago, I witnessed something similar.
"I wasn't headmaster then, and an old friend we both know was still at the school.
"Several students fell into this state, and one unfortunate girl lost her life…"
"Moaning Myrtle, I know who you mean, Professor," Snape said bluntly. "I found and entered the Chamber of Secrets. You needn't worry about this happening again—the basilisk is dead."
"That was dangerous, Severus," Dumbledore said, his tone not admiring but stern. "You should have told me instead of going alone."
"Thank you, Professor," Snape replied. In truth, he'd gone alone to keep the basilisk's fangs—and the means to destroy Horcruxes—out of Dumbledore's hands.
"I didn't think it through," he added, lowering his eyes. "It won't happen again."
"Very well," Dumbledore said with a nod. "How did you kill the basilisk?"
"A rooster's crow is fatal to it," Snape answered.
"A clever idea," Dumbledore said, a glint of approval in his blue eyes. "A thousand-year-old monster felled by common poultry. Sometimes a chicken outshines a phoenix. But—" he paused, "why did you do this?"
Snape didn't answer immediately.
Slowly, he drew the venom-soaked dagger from his robes, unsheathing it.
"This dagger is imbued with basilisk venom," he said calmly, holding it between them. The blade gleamed in the hospital wing's light. "As far as I know, basilisk venom is immensely destructive, with only one antidote—phoenix tears, which are exceedingly rare.
"And this goblin-forged dagger can absorb and enhance its power."
"So, where have you hidden Ravenclaw's diadem, Professor?" he asked.
————
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