Chapter 93: Not Just Voldemort's Memories
Chapter 93: Not Just Voldemort's Memories
Sherlock felt as if his internal organs had been jolted out of place.
He coughed violently, blood clearly in his mouth, but at this moment, he finally managed to wave his wand and cast the Armor Charm on himself.
“Cough, cough, cough. I was too careless.”
The Basilisk, thoroughly annoyed by Fawkes, had not only been pecked blind but was also being relentlessly attacked at its head.
This loss of both hearing and sight only made the Basilisk even more frenzied!
The entire common room was shaking violently. Sherlock staggered over to the corner where Harry and Ron were huddled together, the Sorting Hat on their heads as they tried to uncover its secrets. He quickly cast the Armor Charm on them to protect them from the attacks.
“Please, Professor, really, you can express some pessimistic thoughts, but for Merlin's sake, don’t say things like we’re definitely going to win this time!”
Ron, seeing that Sherlock had only spat out a couple of mouthfuls of blood and seemed otherwise fine, let out a sigh of relief while still pleading.
Sherlock dismissed his words with a sneer.
“We are students of magic, how can you believe in such nebulous things!”
However, as soon as he finished speaking, Fawkes, who was still engaged in a fierce battle with the Basilisk, skillfully dodged one of its attacks. But the Basilisk's onslaught did not lessen. It opened its massive jaws and suddenly lunged at Sherlock!
Its venomous fangs collided solidly with the Armor Charm!
The blue shield shimmered with intense ripples!
Sherlock's resolve hardened. His spells had little effect on the Basilisk's tough outer skin, but it was a different story on the inside!
So, instead of pulling his arm free from the Basilisk's bite, he thrust his wand directly into its mouth.
“Thunder Blast!”
A massive, searing flash of fire erupted from the Basilisk's mouth!
The deafening explosion made Harry and Ron instinctively cover their ears, and Neville, who had been lying on the couch, opened his eyes in confusion.
But Sherlock had no time to worry about anything else. The powerful blasting spell had inflicted a severe wound on the Basilisk, creating a large, bleeding hole in its lower jaw.
The unbearable pain also caused the Basilisk to clench its jaw with all its might!
“Crack!”
A sharp, glass-like shattering sound rang out, and Sherlock's Armor Charm disintegrated into countless blue shards!
In the next moment, the sharp fangs pierced into his arm!
The excruciating pain made Sherlock's face contort in agony!
The Basilisk, also in immense pain, twisted and writhed, its body coiling like a rope before suddenly tightening. It thrashed its head, pulling its fangs from Sherlock's shoulder and convulsing violently in the common room.
Black blood splattered everywhere, and Sherlock was now covered in it.
His mouth was filled with the taste of blood, making it impossible for him to tell if it was his own or the Basilisk's.
Harry, with the Sorting Hat on his head, and Ron ran to Sherlock's side. Neville, who had just woken up, also approached, crying.
“Professor,” Harry called out, his voice choked with tears, “At a time like this, please say something pessimistic. Just say you feel like you're about to die and that we definitely won't make it out of here alive!”
Sherlock felt his right shoulder completely lose all sensation, and every part of his body was in agony. The Basilisk's venom was clearly taking effect.
But even now, he still managed to roll his eyes at Harry.
"Ha! You're asking me to curse myself to death! Even if we might not make it this time, I can't lose my composure."
Harry and Ron burst into laughter, their spirits lifted.
"Exactly, Professor, you're going to fall here today, and we're all going to die!"
Neville watched them, forgetting to cry, his gaze fixed on them as if they were madmen!
Sherlock's eyes shifted to Tom, who was standing nearby with a smug smile. In his hand was a wand, Neville's wand.
"You're going to die, Professor Forrest."
Fawkes, who had been hovering in the common room, landed on Sherlock's shoulder. The phoenix seemed to be weeping, its tears streaming down and falling onto the wound on Sherlock's arm.
Tom sneered.
"Even Dumbledore's bird knows you're going to die. When you're gone, how will you protect your students? Or does Dumbledore have any other tricks up his sleeve to protect them?"
Sherlock ignored Tom's taunts. His body was exhausted, but his spirit was invigorated. Anyone with common sense in the Wizarding World knew the power of Phoenix Tears.
He didn't think Tom was unaware, but the thrill of success had clouded Tom's judgment, making him overlook the obvious.
"It's all my fault, Professor. I should have taught the school from the start", Neville sobbed, blaming himself.
"Cough, cough, no, Neville", Sherlock coughed up a mouthful of blood. "You've been very brave. You stood up to him, and that's more than enough."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk", Tom glared at them with disdain. "What a touching scene! But it makes me sick!"
He had noticed Sherlock's fully healed wound and pointed Neville's wand at Fawkes. With a loud "bang", Fawkes was hit by something and transformed into a golden and red whirlwind, flying away.
Tom continued to wave the wand, and Harry, Ron, and Neville were bound in place, unable to resist.
Tom was no longer a mere spectral presence; he possessed the full power of a wizard and could cast spells.
In the center of the common room, the Basilisk thrashed violently, curled up in a corner, repeatedly smashing its head against the wall.
Sherlock panted heavily, looking at Tom. Suddenly, a flash of insight illuminated his mind.
"You're not just a memory of Voldemort!"
Tom's face twisted into a playful smile. He was confident in his victory and didn't mind toying with Sherlock a bit more.
"You figured it out? Fine, I admit I lied earlier. A mere memory wouldn't have this kind of power."
His voice rose with pride.
"I am a grand masterpiece of my former self! My most precious creation! A work of eternal art!"
(End of Chapter)
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