The corridor was dim.
Sean didn't look great.
His robes were torn in places by falling stone, and dust from the shattered rock clung to him.
In the moonlight, only the Sword of Gryffindor gleamed silver, streaked here and there with traces of dark green blood.
His face showed clear fatigue.
Master-level material transfiguration wasn't hard for him in theory, but in real combat he had to shorten casting time as much as possible and push the effect to its limits.
He had just cast, in quick succession, multiple terrain shifts ten meters wide and two meters deep.
Not far off from the legendary dueling feats of ancient wizards.
And that was without counting the constant strain of soul transfiguration—White-E and Tilla might look perfectly in sync with him, but coordinating them had eaten a huge chunk of his focus.
Ten minutes to end the fight came at a price: his stamina was burning out fast.
Now he was dusty and travel-worn (most of that from climbing the pipe while clutching a sword in his teeth).
Fortunately, the result hadn't strayed far from the plan: the basilisk had been put to sleep by a mix of muscle and magic.
He held the basilisk fang, his footsteps making soft sounds on the floor.
Soon he was standing at the door to the Headmaster's office.
And there, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were staring at him without blinking.
"Sean is… like this because…"
Harry had never seen anything that could make Sean this "disheveled." Even last year, facing the professors' gauntlet, he'd always been composed.
Now his robes were ripped, his hair dusted with grit.
That sword—the Sword of Gryffindor—still glimmered with streaks of green blood.
"Did he succeed, or did he fail?"
Ron's voice shook.
The cause and effect of everything were no longer a vague blur.
They knew very clearly what the younger boy had gone down there to face.
The book had said: the basilisk was fifteen meters long; just lying there coiled up, it could scare two students into fainting at random.
"Sean!"
Hermione was already running over to him.
Harry and Ron exchanged a helpless glance, then rushed after her.
"Good evening, Hermione, Harry, Ron."
Sean quietly put away the Sword of Gryffindor. It seemed to still be drawing in the basilisk's blood and venom, so he hadn't put it back in its scabbard yet, leaving it out to observe.
"Good evening… no, I am not alright at all!"
Hermione's eyes ran over him from head to toe, as if checking he hadn't lost any limbs. Only after a long moment did she let out a long breath of relief.
"Sean, you…"
Harry's words caught in his throat. He forced himself to ask:
"The basilisk—I mean, it was the basilisk, right? Is it dead?"
Sean shook his head.
"You really went down there to deal with the basilisk alone! Merlin…"
Hermione cried out, then suddenly remembered herself and clapped a hand over her mouth.
"Hogwarts has a basilisk… and it's not dead… Hogwarts has a basilisk… and it's not dead…"
Ron repeated himself in a daze.
He swallowed hard, eyes darting nervously over the moonlit walls and empty corridor, as though the serpent might suddenly burst from the shadows and swallow them bones and all.
Sean didn't pay much attention to their reactions. He was exhausted. Once he set the sword down, he just wanted to rest.
All three of them were quick on the uptake; seeing how dull and tired his eyes looked, they bit back all their questions and simply watched him push open the door to the Headmaster's office.
"Why was Sean carrying the Sword of Gryffindor?"
Ron suddenly spoke. The smear of green on the blade was burned into his mind.
Then again… if he'd gone up against the basilisk and at least managed to stab it once, Ron now wholeheartedly supported this Ravenclaw's right to draw Gryffindor's sword.
"…The basilisk's skin is layered in scales that can deflect spells."
Hermione flipped through the library book and read aloud.
The three of them fell silent for a moment.
Harry took the book and read each line carefully:
"Parseltongue can lull a basilisk into a deep sleep, halting its growth and putting it into a deathlike state…"
"We have to do something."
Harry said suddenly.
"I don't know where it came from, but if someone at Hogwarts is trying to use the basilisk, that's why Sean would risk facing it himself.
Now he hasn't killed it, and we still don't know who that person is. Remember? Professor Quirrell was once manipulated by Voldemort…"
"You mean—Lockhart?"
Ron's eyes widened. No wonder the man was such an idiot—maybe that was all an act.
No wonder Sean hadn't said anything.
Because Voldemort had another servant at Hogwarts.
"Th-Then… we…"
Hermione's voice shook, eyes flickering with fear.
"We need to tell the Headmaster."
"Don't be daft, Hermione."
Ron said weakly.
"It'd almost be better to tell Snape. Remember? When Quirrell tried to kill Harry, it was Snape who was watching him."
Hermione fell silent. Horrible possibilities flashed through her mind.
Meanwhile, in the Headmaster's office—
The filthy, crumpled Sorting Hat twitched faintly in the moonlight—someone had picked it up.
Sean examined it, trying to find a position where he could shove the Sword of Gryffindor back into it.
"No, no, that's not something you can just do in a few seconds—keep that thing away from me, boy!"
The Hat's faint, anxious voice sounded in the back of his mind.
Sean paused.
He'd assumed the Sorting Hat and the Sword were one and the same in some way—both relics of Godric Gryffindor.
What, was he supposed to just… walk off with the Sword of Gryffindor?
"You've done very well, my boy. Just set it on the desk."
A kindly voice spoke; Sean turned to see Dumbledore's white beard gleaming in the moonlight.
"I must say, you've broken well over a hundred school rules—"
Sean blanked out for a second.
The basilisk, the Chamber, Voldemort…
His mind was full of all the truly important things, and he'd honestly forgotten he was still a Hogwarts student.
"Oh, how amusing. You solve the mystery on your own, you creep out of bed in the middle of the night to wrestle a basilisk, and now you're worried about regulations…"
Dumbledore chuckled, his beard trembling.
"You don't need to justify anything to me, child. I've always believed you're walking a… particular path.
But forgive an old man his curiosity.
Why push yourself to the limit to defeat such a dangerous basilisk? What's the point?"
The Headmaster's voice was gentle. But what he was asking ran much deeper.
"I knew it had awakened. Before something terrible happened, I had to do what I could."
Sean's voice was as calm as ever.
In Hogwarts, very little could be hidden from Albus Dumbledore.