The Basilisk was not a thinking creature.
That was exactly why Louis arranged for Hastur to provoke it, instead of letting the Basilisk wander off on its own to find Aragog.
Left to its instincts, the Basilisk would stroll, eat, wander, eat—slowly meandering toward Aragog's direction.
Normally that wouldn't be a problem.
But if Aragog had a weapon in hand, that pace spelled disaster.
By the time the Basilisk arrived, it would be greeted by ten 5×5×5 fire meteors raining down mercilessly…
Meanwhile, Aragog—who knew Louis's exact plans—would survive.
Louis would not allow that.
So Hastur's mission was simple:
Drive the Basilisk to Aragog as fast as possible—but not TOO fast.
At the very least, Hastur needed to ensure Aragog had enough time to tear open the scroll before the Basilisk actually saw any Acromantulas.
The fearsome thing about Acromantulas wasn't their venom or size—it was their lack of blind spots.
With eight eyes covering every angle, they could strike from anywhere.
But every strength comes with a weakness:
Because they cannot close their eyes, and because their vision has no blind spot…
The moment a Basilisk appears in front of them, they are doomed.
Thus, Hastur had to maintain a precise pace—close enough to get both Aragog and the Basilisk within the scroll's blast radius, but not so fast that the Basilisk saw Aragog before the scroll was activated.
This timing was something Hastur needed to judge alone.
Originally, Fafnir was supposed to help, but Hastur confidently chased him away.
It had been running in an S-shaped pattern the whole time precisely to give Aragog extra buffer time.
Along the way, Hastur and the Basilisk encountered plenty of Acromantulas rushing back to their nest.
Perhaps they'd been scared senseless by the Basilisk…
or perhaps obeying some command, they charged toward the cat and snake like mad beasts.
When faced with spiders bigger than itself, Hastur didn't panic for a moment—
punching, kicking, slashing with claws, its movements never slowing for even a heartbeat.
Every Acromantula that pounced on Hastur ended up split open, limbs torn off, or collapsed into a twitching ball of spider-meat—
only to be crushed flat by the Basilisk right behind.
Those that leapt toward the Basilisk didn't fare any better—
the moment they drew close, they stiffened, all eight legs kicking once before dying instantly.
If the Basilisk weren't so focused on chasing Hastur, the flood of suicidal spiders could have stuffed it full.
This was also why Aragog had never been too worried about the Basilisk.
He could reproduce.
When adorable Hagrid released him, he even brought him a mate.
Every year Aragog produced more Acromantulas; if not for territorial constraints, he could breed even more.
So what if the Basilisk was strong?
Once it was full, it would crawl back home anyway.
This was why Louis's plan was so important.
Without Hastur, a well-fed Basilisk would leisurely return to Hogwarts to wreak havoc.
No matter how much Hastur tried to stall, the Basilisk was fast.
In no time, cat and snake reached the vicinity of Aragog's nest.
At this distance, Aragog would have to be an idiot not to notice.
With a sharp meow, Hastur dove into a hollow formed by tangled tree roots—and the brainless Basilisk followed right after.
The instant Hastur entered the burrow, it spotted a dog-sized spider rushing out, clutching a burning scroll.
Its eyes had been completely scorched blind, but all eight legs rested on web strands, sensing vibrations.
The Basilisk's low slithering growl alerted it, and the fully blinded Acromantula—without hesitation—tore open the scroll.
In an instant—
THE SKY AND EARTH CHANGED COLOR.
At that very moment, Dumbledore—busy placing floating candles for the Christmas feast—froze.
A sharp, clear cry rang out.
Fawkes, the phoenix, landed on his shoulder.
After a whole semester of recovery, Fawkes was finally in good condition again and able to fly freely.
"You felt it too?" Dumbledore gently stroked his old companion, turning a grave gaze toward the Forbidden Forest.
Suddenly, Fawkes burst into flames, carrying Dumbledore with him.
In the blink of an eye, they appeared atop the clock tower.
It was the best vantage point to see the entire forest.
And clearly, someone else had realized this earlier.
"You're here, Headmaster?" Louis smiled faintly.
He was excited—because what was about to happen was spectacular.
On Louis's shoulder, Fafnir was furiously complaining about Hastur's outrageous behavior.
In Louis's hand was a trembling squirrel, curled up pitifully with not a single scratch on its body.
It seemed Hastur really was confident enough to return safely even under the Meteor Fire Rain—
so it had used this squirrel, along with the energy infused into it, to send a message to both Fafnir and Louis:
"I don't need help."
This Divine Qi Art really was something.
"Good morning, Louis. Looks like you've prepared quite a grand spectacle," Dumbledore said lightly as he stood beside him, Phoenix perched on his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.
"Not bad, I suppose. But the spectacle itself isn't the point—the result of this performance is what matters, don't you think?"
Louis kept his smile as he gazed at the magnificent scene unfolding in the distance.
Over the Forbidden Forest, an astonishing phenomenon was taking shape.
Torn clouds bloomed like flowers of flame, and a massive vortex churned among them.
From within, strands of blazing heat radiated outward, warping the very air.
A second sun seemed to rise in the sky, glowing even brighter than the evening sun at its peak—
painting half the sky in a red-orange twilight.
By now, it wasn't just Louis and Dumbledore who noticed.
Students and professors who had remained at school crowded to the side of the castle, gawking at the stunning formation. More arrived constantly as their friends called them over.
"Hey! Over here! I told you, THIS angle gets the best view of the forest!"
A loud voice came shouting as someone ran toward Louis and Dumbledore.
The voice alone gave away its owner—Draco Malfoy, that troublesome brat.
Who knew why he didn't go home for the holidays this year.
Not just him—many students were squeezing in, excited and noisy, but they all froze the moment they saw Louis and Dumbledore standing there.
Louis turned his head.
The burning orange-red glow behind him cast a hellish radiance around his silhouette.
"You lot," he said softly, "why are you crowding here?
You're loud. And annoying."
The students collectively held their breath.
For a moment, they felt as if they were staring at a demon.
"R–run!"
No one knew who yelled first, but in an instant the entire group scattered screaming—
not just Slytherins, but students from every house.
Except one blonde girl: Cassandra.
Her expression wavered.
Even she—who wasn't easily shaken—felt a touch of fear.
If the Slytherin boys who were usually tormented by Louis every day were scared, that was understandable.
But for her to feel this way…
"You frightened them," Dumbledore said mildly, breaking the tension.
Louis didn't look back at her.
He simply turned again to admire his masterpiece.
Cassandra pressed a hand to her chest, her heartbeat slightly rapid.
That image—Louis bathed in hellfire—had struck her deeply.
But… only for a moment.
Just the right angle, that's all.
Not enough to truly impress her.
As she steadied herself, she heard Dumbledore speak.
"Is that your magic?"
His soft tone carried genuine admiration, unaffected by the sheer scale of the phenomenon.
After all, the caster was right beside him—and perfectly at ease.
"Of course. A very powerful spell. I estimate its effective radius is around… three hundred meters." Louis answered honestly.
A spell? Cast by Louis?
Cassandra's mind blanked.
She stared at the apocalyptic sight in disbelief.
That magic…
could destroy an entire castle.
"Astonishing," Dumbledore murmured, even he unable to hold back his praise.
And as his words faded—
The first meteor appeared.
A blazing fireball streaked across the sky, trailing golden flame and black smoke as it hurtled downward.
Before the stunned eyes of everyone present, the first fire meteor slammed into the Forbidden Forest.
A deafening explosion followed.
A colossal shockwave rippled outward—upending treetops, flattening the ground. Even those standing at the castle felt a faint tremor.
A pitch-black crater appeared where the meteor struck.
The immense pressure had snuffed out all flames at the core, leaving fire only around the edges.
Terrifying.
Overwhelming.
Like a real meteor descended from the heavens.
And that—
was only the beginning.
Before anyone could recover from the first blast, more flaming meteors began to fall one after another—
A deadly meteor shower raining down relentlessly upon the earth!
---
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