HP: Redemption of The Platinum Boy

Chapter 49: The Basilisk's Venomous Fangs

As Draco stood lost in thought beside the enormous snakeskin with Harry and Ron, Lockhart quietly slipped from their sight and disappeared into the shadows behind them.

"Children! Your adventure ends here!" When they turned at the sound of his voice, they were shocked to find Lockhart brandishing Ron's wand—that crooked, damaged wand—and smiling at them with a threatening gleam in his eye. "No, no, no, Malfoy, don't even think about raising your wand. I know your Disarming Charm is powerful. Don't point your wand at me, or I'll cast immediately, and you won't like the results!"

What spells could that fraud Lockhart possibly know? Draco thought dismissively.

He didn't act immediately. Instead, he gripped his wand tightly, tip lowered, and stared expressionlessly at Lockhart's wand, wondering what Hogwarts's biggest charlatan was planning.

"Very good. I do appreciate obedient students." Lockhart's face lit with satisfaction when Draco complied.

He announced excitedly, "That's the end of it, then! I'll take this snakeskin to the school and tell them I arrived too late to save the girl—"

Ron, standing nearby, was livid.

That was his sister! This irresponsible fraud didn't deserve to call himself a professor!

Ron glared at Lockhart and shouted, "You absolute—"

Lockhart ignored Ron's outburst and continued recounting his perfectly planned scenario with a smile, "—and you all lost your minds the moment you saw her corpse!"

"You worthless fraud!" Ron spat.

"You should have been nicer to me, Weasley! How dare a student insult a professor?" With that, he turned his wand toward Ron, preparing to attack the unarmed boy.

"What the—" Draco cursed, quickly grabbing the defenseless Ron and trying to pull him to safety.

Only then did he realize how deeply he'd underestimated Lockhart. Beneath that mild-mannered facade lurked genuine treachery and ruthlessness. He should have disarmed him immediately.

While pulling Ron behind him, Draco shouted angrily at Lockhart, "You're a Hogwarts professor! How dare you raise your wand against a second-year student—"

"Obliviate!" Lockhart flashed his standard eight-toothed smile, eyes gleaming with malice.

The wand exploded with a deafening bang.

Everyone scattered as debris rained down from the tunnel ceiling, dislodged by the backfiring spell.

When the tremors stopped, Draco was covered in rubble and dust. He sneezed several times, eyes watering profusely.

He had to cast a thorough "Scourgify" before he felt remotely better.

Then Draco realized the cruel truth: a thick wall of rubble now blocked the path to the Chamber of Secrets.

Merlin's beard.

The passage was completely sealed.

How could they possibly save Ron's sister now? Draco stared blankly at the rubble wall through the settling dust.

Harry's voice called from the other side: "Ron? Draco? Are you all right?"

"We're fine!" Ron shouted back.

Draco turned to see Ron emerging from a corner of the ruins, while Lockhart lay in another corner, clearly no longer in full possession of his faculties.

Ron's robes were dust-covered and he looked thoroughly disheveled, but fortunately uninjured.

He walked over to Lockhart's sprawled form and kicked his leg dismissively, shouting to Harry through the stone wall, "Lockhart's not doing so well—he was hit by the backfire!"

Harry's voice came from beyond the barrier: "Wait there! I'm going on, and if I'm not back in an hour—"

Harry was preparing to find Ron's sister alone.

The crucial question was—had Harry faced this isolated situation in the original timeline?

Draco was deeply troubled by this. He didn't know the specific details of what had transpired after Harry entered the Chamber in his previous life.

What if his presence—like a butterfly's wings—had altered events, leaving Harry to face danger without the help he'd originally had? The consequences could be catastrophic.

Harry was meant to fight the Dark Lord someday. They couldn't just throw his life away in Hogwarts's deepest depths.

"Wait—I'll try to blast through this wall!" Draco shouted determinedly toward the rubble.

Ron ran back and called to Harry, "Harry, hold on a minute!"

Harry didn't listen.

He sounded anxious, his voice trembling from the other side. "See you later."

Draco understood what drove him.

Every passing minute meant the captured red-haired girl's life was slipping away—she might be petrified, or heading toward something far more dangerous.

Draco couldn't guarantee how long it would take to breach the wall.

"Be careful! Not just the basilisk, but the diary too! You know whose diary it is! It's extremely dangerous! Don't trust anyone—and don't let go of your wand!" Draco shouted desperately toward the barrier, hoping Harry would remember something, or at least change some of his potentially fatal habits.

But no response came from the other side.

"He must have gone ahead," Ron said, his face creased with worry.

"Oh, I recall someone saying they were cutting ties with me," Draco remarked, glancing at him sidelong. "Why are you talking to me again?"

"You were trying to protect me, weren't you?" Ron's face suddenly flushed as red as his hair. "Lockhart was pointing his wand at me—you could have just ignored it."

"I simply didn't expect him to actually attack a student." Draco's expression revealed a hint of arrogance.

A Slytherin should be more guarded; he would never admit he'd panicked.

"Say what you want," Ron said quickly and quietly. "I've decided to forgive you. Unilaterally."

"Whatever," Draco said, keeping his face impassive.

The topic clearly made them both uncomfortable.

So Draco changed the subject. "What just happened? Why did your wand explode?"

"My wand broke when we fell through the trapdoor!" Ron said sheepishly. "It's an old hand-me-down, already worn out and barely functional to begin with."

"We should thank it for being old and broken, otherwise we might have lost our memories entirely." Draco's expression remained indifferent, though his heart clenched with residual fear.

He reminded himself to be more cautious, more careful, less conspicuous.

Never let anyone threaten him with a wand like that again.

His memories couldn't be casually discarded—those secrets were too important.

"Now we can only rely on your wand," Ron said uneasily.

Feeling helpless without his wand, he could only pin his hopes on Draco. "Do you know any spells that can move stones?"

Draco spoke slowly and deliberately, "I can try."

He cast "Scourgify" on the rubble pile, but it clearly had no effect.

Only a bit of dust vanished; the large stones remained stubbornly in place.

Of course a simple cleaning charm wouldn't work. Draco thought grimly.

Honestly, he didn't want to reveal too much of his abilities to others.

A fifth-year using NEWT-level magic might be considered talented; a second-year doing the same would likely be regarded as unnatural.

But there was no alternative now.

Draco sighed and told Ron, "All right, we'll try them one by one. Ron, take that idiot Lockhart and move back. I'm going to attempt some blasting spells."

The next half hour would be one of the most unforgettable of Ron Weasley's life—during which he watched, stunned, as a spectacular magical display unfolded:

Confringo, Diffindo, Descendo, Reducio, Reducto, Reparo...

The rubble pile gradually diminished.

"Your little stick is amazing! It even makes sparks!" Lockhart exclaimed excitedly, then asked with genuine puzzlement, "Are you wizards with extraordinary powers?"

"Shut up!" Ron finally snapped.

Lockhart seemed to have completely forgotten who he was—he now behaved like an overexcited, clueless toddler.

However, Lockhart was right about one thing: Draco was exceptionally skilled at magic.

"Are you really a second-year?" Ron asked incredulously, genuinely admiring the Slytherin boy. "Now I understand why Hermione said you were the most talented wizard of our generation. I thought she was exaggerating."

"She said that about me?" Draco asked breathlessly, a hint of warmth flickering in his eyes.

He rallied his spirits, cast one final spell, and finally carved a crude passage through the rubble wall.

"Yeah, except when you two were fighting a while back, she's always comparing you to us in that praising tone, criticizing us until we feel worthless," Ron said resentfully. "What kind of potion did you slip her?"

Draco shrugged and smiled.

"By the way, how exactly do you know so many spells?" Ron asked, clicking his tongue in amazement. "And how are you so proficient with them?"

"Read more books and you'll know them too. Practice more and you'll use them freely. There's nothing remarkable about it, so please don't broadcast this to everyone." Draco spoke deliberately. "I believe any Hogwarts professor could handle this quickly—except Lockhart. Compared to them, I'm far from skilled, and I've taken far too long."

He crossed through the passage, his body exhausted from casting so many consecutive spells.

It was too much strain for his young frame to sustain so much magic.

Draco turned and looked at Ron through the opening. "You need to stay here and watch Lockhart. He's essentially a normal person now, and we can't let him wander around. Who knows what dangers lurk deeper in?"

"What are you saying!" Ron protested angrily. "My sister Ginny—"

"Where are you going? Can I come?" Lockhart asked excitedly, having overheard their conversation and jumping to his feet.

Ron glared at Lockhart in exasperation and snapped, "Draco, please, do you know any spells that can knock someone out?"

"Step aside, Ron." Draco raised his wand and, without ceremony, hit Lockhart's innocently surprised face with a "Stupefy."

Lockhart crumpled to the ground, motionless.

Draco smiled with satisfaction—he'd wanted to do that for ages.

Even before seeing Hermione's timetable covered in hearts—

"Well done!" Ron said gleefully. "Everyone should see Lockhart looking like an idiot right now!"

Draco quickly hushed him. "Don't tell anyone I attacked a professor."

Ron grinned carelessly and stepped through the passage.

"Fine. Same here—you're not the first person to raise a wand at him anyway."

Things are often just that simple.

When two friends who've had a falling-out share a common enemy or goal, they're more likely to reconcile and let their differences dissolve while working together.

Just as the two boys prepared to venture deeper, melodious, mysterious music drifted from the distance.

Draco looked up to see a crimson bird fly overhead and disappear into the Chamber's depths, clutching what appeared to be a tattered bundle in its talons.

"We need to hurry." Anxiety flashed across Draco's face. "If I'm not mistaken, that's Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes—I saw him in the Headmaster's office once. It seems Professor Dumbledore has sent help to Harry."

"Which means—" Ron asked softly.

"Which means the situation has become critical and Harry needs assistance," Draco said gravely.

They hurried along the passage toward the Chamber, and gradually only their breathing could be heard in the damp, dark tunnel.

"The phoenix song is getting fainter, and Fawkes is flying farther away," Ron said uneasily.

"Which means," Draco replied, "the Chamber is still quite far from where we are."

"Right," Ron said grimly, quickening his pace.

Draco followed behind, his steps faltering. He was already exhausted, but he knew far more dangerous situations awaited them ahead. He couldn't afford complacency now.

After a while, the phoenix's song faded completely.

Their footsteps became increasingly urgent and irregular.

They turned corner after corner, seemingly without end.

"Tell me, with so much time passing, can Harry still hold on?" Ron asked breathlessly, voice thick with worry.

"I don't know. That basilisk won't be easy to handle. I can't think of any way to defeat it," Draco said wearily. "I'm hoping Harry's Parseltongue ability might help—that the basilisk can be reasoned with, or at least won't be completely unreasonable, since they can communicate."

No sooner had he finished speaking than they heard a series of thunderous crashes, as if the basilisk had awakened and was battling someone.

"I'm guessing—" Ron said in a trembling voice, "that basilisk doesn't want to talk."

"Agreed. We have to hurry!" Draco said urgently. "I'd wager we're close now."

They exchanged a glance and broke into a run.

Finally, Draco and Ron arrived panting at the doorway carved with two intertwined serpents. The sounds of fierce combat echoed from within—the basilisk seemed to have gone berserk.

Draco took a deep breath, raised his wand, and shouted, "Alohomora!"

The door remained completely still.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked desperately.

"Aberto... Portaberto..." Draco ignored him and continued trying different unlocking spells until he'd exhausted his options.

"No!" Draco stared at the serpents' eyes—two emeralds gleaming in the darkness—and suddenly understood the problem. "That old snake Salazar must have required Parseltongue to open this blasted door!"

"Then how are we getting in?" Ron asked, eyes wide with shock, voice trembling tearfully. "We're not Parselmouths!"

He lunged at the door, calling out, "Harry! Harry! Harry, are you all right?"

No response came from Harry beyond the door.

"Save your breath—he can't hear you. Expecting him to teach you Parseltongue to open doors right now is wishful thinking," Draco said, his face already deathly pale.

The noise inside was too loud—Harry could barely hear their faint knocking or shouting.

Ron pounded on the door for a while before finally admitting Draco was right—it was completely futile.

So he pressed his ear against the door, trying to hear more clearly what was happening inside.

He needed to know if Harry's voice was still there.

Draco remained silent, leaning against the wall, once again experiencing that powerless feeling he hadn't felt in ages.

The hopelessness of being forced to watch from the sidelines with no ability to influence anything.

After an unknown amount of time, Ron stopped listening.

He sat pale-faced on a stone slab before the door and said to Draco, who was resting with closed eyes against the wall, "Did you hear that? The Chamber—it's quiet now."

"I noticed." Draco opened his eyes, walked to the door, and stared at it uncertainly.

Silence.

Deathly silence.

"Do you think Harry's still alive?" Ron asked in a trembling voice.

"I don't know," Draco said, his voice as cold as the surrounding stone. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

Shortly after, a faint noise came from the door.

Ron leaped to his feet while Draco gripped his wand tightly.

"Get behind me, quickly! You don't have a wand," Draco urged Ron.

He tried to remain calm, though his wand tip trembled slightly as it pointed toward the doorway.

"No! I won't be a coward hiding behind you! Not having a wand doesn't mean I can't fight!" Ron picked up a large rock from the ground, held it above his head, and said through gritted teeth, "If it's the basilisk, I'll bash its head in with this."

"Not bad." Draco was momentarily surprised, then chuckled softly. "Brave yet reckless Gryffindors. Let's do it that way, then."

Ron flushed and glanced at him, only to find that those once-indifferent grey eyes held no mockery, but rather a glint of approval.

He smiled at Draco, then turned away, gripping his stone, and stared intently at the door.

The door opened.

Fawkes flew out first, followed by Harry, who was helping an unsteady Ginny Weasley walk.

He was also carrying an assortment of objects—a wand, a diary with a large hole burned through it, the tattered Sorting Hat, and a blood-stained silver sword.

"Ginny!" Ron exhaled in relief, nearly dropped the stone, rushed forward, and took his sister from Harry.

He exclaimed with overwhelming joy, "You're alive! I can hardly believe it! What happened?"

He tried to embrace Ginny, but the little girl was crying and wouldn't let him near. Ron had no choice but to lead her aside to sit down, gently comforting his sister.

Draco lowered his wand hand and took the diary from Harry with his free hand.

He carefully avoided the burning hole in the center, staring at it in disbelief.

He asked Harry, "You killed the basilisk? And you have the diary?"

"Yes, they're both gone," Harry said, wiping his filthy face.

Draco asked, as if in a daze, "How did you manage it? That basilisk—"

"You said we should find its weak point, right?" Harry said with a smile. "It's the eyes. Its weakness is the eyes."

"That's brilliant. None of us expected that approach," Draco praised him.

This unusual approval from the typically reserved Slytherin made Harry feel slightly embarrassed.

"And this diary?" Draco shook it, staring at the hole, a thought gradually forming in his mind.

"As you can see, I stabbed this diary through with the basilisk's fang." Harry grinned.

"Of course!" Draco thought.

According to the Grey Lady, basilisk venom could destroy even the Dark Lord's Horcruxes, let alone dark magical objects the Dark Lord had casually created in his youth!

"Excellent work!" Draco said admiringly.

Harry had pulled off a brilliant maneuver, using the enemy's own weapon against them.

This ability to utilize available resources and achieve maximum results with minimum effort was something every Slytherin should appreciate.

"And this sword?" Draco examined the conspicuous ruby and gleaming silver blade, recognizing this as clearly Gryffindor's sword.

He'd seen a similar sword at Malfoy Manor.

At the time, the goblin Griphook from Gringotts had claimed it was fake. But Draco suspected it was genuine.

Because the sword from his previous timeline was identical to the one before him now.

Equally exquisite, equally magnificent, equally deadly.

"I don't know—it fell out of the Sorting Hat." Harry was equally puzzled. He told Draco, "I used it to fight the basilisk and killed it."

"You didn't use a wand?" Draco asked in surprise.

"I wasn't paying attention, and the person from the diary took my wand." A shadow crossed Harry's face.

"He could take your wand?" Draco asked, puzzled. "Isn't he just a memory, a preserved thought?"

"Yes, but he was draining Ginny's life force and gradually becoming corporeal," Harry explained. "I don't really understand how it happened. Anyway, he took my wand."

"You really need to be more careful with your wand," Draco said thoughtfully, a sense of foreboding creeping through him.

"Fortunately I had the sword, otherwise it would have been truly dangerous," Harry said, glancing at the weapon with lingering fear.

Draco stared silently at the sword, a strange sense of awe washing over him.

Why did Harry always prefer close combat? Why didn't he act like a proper wizard, instead carelessly losing his wand and preferring hand-to-hand fighting?

The most terrifying part was that he actually won.

He'd killed a monstrous creature with medieval weaponry—a monster even adult wizards couldn't subdue with wands!

Could it be that Harry's talent for opposing the Dark Lord lay here?

Perhaps he should be a warrior wielding a sword, or rather, a surprisingly effective melee wizard, instead of the conventional wand-dueling type?

Come to think of it—Harry seemed remarkably resistant to the Dark Lord's curses, no matter what he was hit with.

Faced with the Dark Lord's magic, he appeared even tougher and more resilient than giants and werewolves with their natural magic resistance.

On another note—had he misjudged the approach in his previous life?

Draco silently watched Harry's blood-covered yet nonchalant demeanor, his mind whirling with increasingly absurd thoughts.

Could it be that for Harry, the most destructive use of a wand was jabbing it into someone's face rather than casting spells?

Merlin, this idea was getting ridiculous—he needed to stop.

"This isn't the time for that!" Draco mentally shook himself.

There was something Draco had anticipated for ages, and he had to seize this hard-won opportunity.

"I have a favor to ask. It may sound strange, but it's very important to me." Draco hesitated, carefully choosing his words, trying to project the curious expression a second-year should have. "I'd like to go inside that Chamber and see the dead basilisk."

He put on the most sincere expression he could manage and looked at Harry. "You know, this is, after all, a legendary piece of Slytherin House history. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me to see what those legendary things actually look like..."

"Go ahead." Harry smiled understandingly at Draco and held the door open for him. "Fawkes gouged out the basilisk's eyes, so it's safe for you to look. Just be careful—its fangs are extremely poisonous."

"Thank you, Harry! Five minutes is all I need!" Draco nodded gratefully and rushed into the long, dimly lit chamber.

He glanced only briefly at the stone pillars carved with intertwined serpents and the enormous statue of Salazar Slytherin before focusing entirely on the basilisk.

He rushed toward the serpent lying limp on the ground, turned his back to Harry, quickly donned his dragonhide gloves, and extracted several of the venomous fangs he'd long coveted from its gaping mouth—thin, gleaming, and brimming with venom—carefully placing them in crystal containers within his mokeskin pouch.

Then he stood, casually walked around the basilisk, and examined it for a while.

The basilisk was a treasure trove containing countless excellent potion ingredients! Draco's gaze lingered on the massive serpent, filled with regret.

Unfortunately, time was limited—he couldn't harvest it properly!

What a waste, what a terrible waste.

However, Draco knew he couldn't be greedy. He already possessed the most crucial fangs, and to avoid complications, he only examined it briefly before hurrying back to the Chamber entrance.

Harry was waiting for him at the door.

"How was it?" Harry looked at him with bright eyes.

"Incredible! I truly don't know how you managed to kill such a monster! Even with that powerful sword, I think it's something no ordinary person could accomplish!" Draco praised sincerely.

He didn't mention the basilisk fangs. The fewer people who knew about taking them, the better.

Such dangerous weapons would attract unwanted attention from those with dark intentions. If the Dark Lord were to truly rise again someday, the first person he'd likely target would be whoever wielded venom capable of threatening his "little projects."

Ultimately, Draco didn't trust anyone completely.

Even with Harry Potter smiling so warmly at him right now, he still wasn't certain he could fully trust him.

No one would truly understand him, Draco reflected inwardly.

In this world, his soul would forever remain solitary and unprotected; he expected no salvation.

"Ron's already taken Ginny back—we should hurry," Harry said, smiling at him without any suspicion.

Draco felt a pang of guilt; he felt he'd somehow failed Harry.

But he couldn't take the risk.

Even the slightest risk could prove fatal. Draco Malfoy suppressed his conflicted emotions and followed closely behind Harry.

He walked silently, wearily, stumbling occasionally, the path seeming endless.