Chapter 162: The Sword
Second floor, outside the girls' bathroom.
Neville Longbottom was pacing back and forth in the slippery corridor like an ant on a hot pan.
Trevor was squirming restlessly in his robe pocket, but Neville had no mind to worry about his toad right now.
"What do I do... what do I do..."
Neville's round face was scrunched up, his forehead covered in cold sweat.
It had been a long time since Tamara had jumped into that dark pipe with Harry and the others.
At first, there had been no sound from below except the occasional drip of water.
But just now, a dull thud, as if it could shake the castle down, had echoed up from deep underground, followed by a shrill roar that made his hair stand on end.
Even through thick layers of rock, the terrifying killing intent in that sound made Neville feel as if he were suffocating.
"They're in danger... they must be..."
Neville pressed himself against the edge of the sink, staring at the dark pipe opening, and swallowed desperately.
He wanted to go down and help.
But then he remembered Tamara's cold, unquestionable gaze before she left.
"You need to stay here and guard the entrance. This task is crucial, understand?"
Neville clutched his hair in agony.
He was a Gryffindor.
Even if he always forgot the passwords, even if he always blew up his cauldrons in Potions class, even if he could not use a Levitation Charm properly, he was still a Gryffindor.
But when his friends were facing a life and death crisis, letting him hide in a safe place alone and keep watch?
That felt worse than killing him.
"Someone help them..."
Neville closed his eyes in despair, tears flowing down uncontrollably.
"Whether it's a professor, or... or anyone else... someone help them... even if it's me. If only I could be as amazing as Tamara..."
From the bottom of his heart, he sent out the most sincere prayer he had ever made.
Just then, a dazzling burst of gold and red fire lit up the dim bathroom without warning.
Accompanied by an ethereal, long, and strange bird cry that seemed to pierce the soul, the cold air around him was instantly dispelled by a warm power.
Neville snapped his eyes open.
A massive bird was flapping its magnificent gold and red wings, hovering in midair.
It had long golden tail feathers, and in its sharp beak, it held a dirty, ragged hat.
It was Headmaster Dumbledore's pet, the phoenix Fawkes.
And that hat...
"The Sorting Hat?"
Neville was stunned.
Fawkes released his talons, dropping the ragged hat precisely into Neville's arms. Then he gave Neville a steady look with his bright black eyes, let out an encouraging chirp, and vanished into the deep pipe as a streak of fire.
Neville scrambled to catch the Sorting Hat.
"Why give me this?"
He stared blankly at the pile of mouldy rags in his hands, murmuring in despair with a sob.
"Does Professor Dumbledore think the thing I need most right now... is to go down there and sort that monster into a House?"
Just as Neville was at a loss, a crisp metallic clink came from inside the hat.
Neville froze for a moment.
He instinctively reached his hand into the bottomless crown of the hat.
His fingertips touched something cold.
It was the hilt of a sword.
A ruby was embedded in it.
The moment Neville gripped the hilt and slowly pulled it out of the ragged hat, the entire bathroom was illuminated by the silver glint flashing along the blade.
On the crossguard, an ancient and noble name was engraved.
Godric Gryffindor.
This was a divine weapon forged by goblins, a treasure that would only manifest its physical form before a truly brave Gryffindor.
The moment he gripped the hilt, an unprecedented sense of power surged through Neville's arm and into his heart.
The fear and confusion in his eyes vanished like a receding tide.
Replacing them was a death defying fervour.
"...I'm coming!"
Without thinking for another second, the usually timid boy gripped the sword, which was longer than his arm, tightly with both hands and leaped into the bottomless black hole without hesitation.
Deep within the Chamber of Secrets.
The battle seemed to have subsided.
With the remnant soul having vanished into thin air, the Basilisk that had been so violent a moment ago was now like a wronged giant earthworm, crawling slowly across the floor.
Harry had his eyes closed, communicating with it in a soft, almost soothing hissing sound.
"Go back... go back to your hole... there's no danger anymore..."
Harry had no intention of killing it.
Firstly, he was not bloodthirsty by nature.
In Harry's eyes, this Basilisk was just like the python in the zoo's glass enclosure back then. It was only an animal controlled by a bad person.
Now that the thing giving orders had vanished, it had turned back into a giant snake that merely wanted to go home and sleep.
Secondly, and most practically, how would they kill it?
Ron was clutching a broken wand that could blow him up at any moment. Draco's legs were still trembling. Lockhart was slumped in the corner like a pile of mud. And the strongest one here, Tamara, was currently lying on the ground, gasping for breath.
To actively provoke and attack a thousand year old beast that was sixty feet long, had scales harder than dragon hide, could kill with a single glance, and was currently planning to return obediently to its nest?
Even the most brainless Gryffindor would not do something so stupid as to rush to his death.
Although Ron wished he could hack the monster into pieces, he took one look at the Basilisk's body, which was thicker than an oak trunk, swallowed sensibly, and chose to stay quiet.
"Hiss..."
The Basilisk lowered its head obediently, and its massive body began to slowly retreat into the wide open mouth of Salazar Slytherin's statue.
Everything had finally settled.
Not far away, Tamara was still lying on the dusty, water covered floor, letting the unconscious Ginny lean against her chest.
She watched the pet snake obediently returning to its cage, and her tense nerves finally began to relax.
Although she had missed a great opportunity to conveniently deal with Potter, and although the system in her head was still nauseatingly repulsive, not to mention the Gryffindor troublemaker currently weighing her down...
Fortunately, the result was perfect.
The remnant soul had been destroyed, her soul had been restored, and her Basilisk had been preserved intact.
"It's finally over..."
Tamara closed her eyes wearily, preparing to rest for a while until she recovered some strength before sending these annoying brats away.
However, just as this long awaited peace was about to descend.
"FOR GRYFFINDOR!"
A battle cry full of passion, recklessness, and death defying spirit exploded through the Chamber of Secrets without warning, accompanied by a loud phoenix cry.
Immediately after, a round figure descended from the sky, whistling down through the pipe opening.
It was Neville Longbottom.
He had not even mastered his landing posture and came tumbling across the ground in a mess.
But as soon as he looked up, he did not see the situation clearly at all.
He did not see Harry soothing the Basilisk.
He did not see his safe companions in the corner.
Due to nervousness and the dim light, in his eyes, there was only that massive, terrifying green snake.
There was also Lockhart, slumped in the corner and looking neither dead nor alive, and Tamara, lying in the water, whom Neville mistakenly thought was seriously injured.
In Neville's blood boiling logic, fuelled by the Sword of Gryffindor, the scene before him was instantly interpreted as one thing.
This evil monster had defeated everyone and was now preparing to escape.
"Leave my friends alone! You ugly monster!"
Neville leaped up from the ground.
He raised the silver gleaming Sword of Gryffindor with both hands, having no idea what fear, tactics, or observing the situation meant.
Like a true brute, he charged forward on his two legs toward the Basilisk's vital spot in a suicidal rush.
"Neville?! What are you doing?! Stop!"
Harry was stunned by this sudden turn of events. He opened his eyes and roared in terror.
But Neville could no longer hear him.
In his eyes, there was only the slaying of the demon.
And the Basilisk, which had been obediently returning to its hole, suddenly felt a surge of killing intent and saw the light of the goblin forged sword that it instinctively feared.
It jerked its head around, let out an angry roar, opened its bloody maw, and lunged at Neville.
A tragedy was about to happen.
Swish!
Just as Neville's sword was about to strike the Basilisk, and the Basilisk's fangs were about to crush Neville's head, Tamara, who had been sitting on the ground with her eyes closed, suddenly snapped them open.
When she clearly saw the round faced boy holding the Sword of Gryffindor and about to hack at her most precious private property, all weakness, all exhaustion, and every trace of that inexplicable emotion caused by tears earlier were thrown to the winds in an instant.
That was her pet.
That was the greatest legacy Salazar Slytherin had left her.
This brainless Gryffindor actually wanted to hack it with that ragged sword?
"Get lost!"
A possessive instinct instantly squeezed the last bit of potential out of this body.
Tamara unceremoniously pushed the still unconscious Ginny aside.
Then this Dark Lord, who had been too weak to stand just a moment ago, actually sprang up from the ground like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, at a speed that defied biological common sense.
Tamara's eyes flashed with furious red light, and the holly wand in her hand erupted with an unprecedentedly blinding glow as a sharp spell burst out, directly hitting Neville's wrist.
"Expelliarmus!"