Victor walked leisurely back toward the Slytherin dungeons, the rhythmic tapping of his cane echoing against the stone floor.
While Dumbledore was busy trying to protect Hagrid, and Harry and Ron were likely already paying a visit to Aragog, Victor was occupied with a much more taxing task: he was rehearsing an apology.
— Dear Daphne... No, too formal. Just Daphne? Still not quite right. Daphni? Yes, a little affection wouldn't hurt. Daphne, dear, please forgive me. You see, I'm at that age where I'm becoming... preoccupied. No, definitely better to skip that part. — He nodded thoughtfully to himself. — Daphne, I'm sorry for that stunt. Short and clear. That's what I'll say.
As he descended into the dungeons, nearly satisfied with himself, his body suddenly tensed, and his head turned slowly toward the wall. Stepping closer, Victor pressed his palm against the cold stone. Behind the masonry, he could hear a faint, heavy slithering.
— Damn... I knew I shouldn't have left the room, — he sighed wearily, rolling his eyes under his bandage. — The Headmaster jinxed it. "Victor, if you meet the basilisk, look after it..." Oh yes, Headmaster, of course! Why not? It's not like I have anything else to do!
Victor stepped into the middle of the corridor. There was a sharp click, and he drew a bared katana from his cane-sheath. Thick emerald smoke began to seep from the cracks in the old masonry. It swirled and thickened until a massive serpent materialized directly in front of him. It was colossal, yet just small enough to fit within the confines of the corridor.
Victor froze, feeling an icy breath on his face that smelled of ancient dampness and death.
— Hello, little snake. Listen, I'm blind right now, so your gaze is useless against me. And physically, I'm damn strong and quite skilled. Basically, a fight would be hard on both of us. How about we part ways in peace? I'll go about my business, you go about yours. Like ships in the night. — Victor flashed the basilisk the most disarming smile he could muster.
The basilisk replied with a furious hiss and lunged in a lightning-fast attack. Victor gracefully sidestepped the strike, slashing his blade across the scales on the counter-move. A nasty screech followed, as if steel had met a sheet of metal, and Victor's hand throbbed from the powerful recoil.
— So it's not a coincidence... I'm your target, — he muttered, extending his free hand toward the monster.
The floor beneath the basilisk instantly became viscous, like quicksand. The beast began to sink, and Victor immediately solidified the surface, turning it into a monolith. But with a deafening crash, the serpent shattered the stone to splinters, breaking free.
A heavy tail strike caught Victor square in the chest. He was slammed into the stone wall with such force that deep cracks spiderwebbed across the masonry. The katana fell from his numb fingers with a clang.
— Well... looks like a couple of ribs are in the red, — he said calmly, as if discussing the weather. Victor stepped out of the breach, carelessly brushing dust off his robes.
The basilisk lunged at him again, but Victor instantly vanished into a cloud of crimson mist. Reappearing at its side, he struck the serpent with a clawed hand wreathed in fierce flames. The monster's scales charred, smelling of burnt leather, but the flesh didn't yield.
Victor dissolved into smoke again, widening the distance. Blood dripped from his fingers, but his lips curled into a predatory smile.
— Then again, you know... maybe this is for the best! A little fun won't hurt me! Ha-ha-ha! — He threw his hands up, and a massive stone wall surged from the ground directly in front of the charging basilisk's snout.
The serpent rammed through the obstacle, but Victor was no longer there. The beast suddenly thrashed in convulsions, its tail crushing the walls in a flash of acute pain. Victor stood a short distance away, lazily wiping the bloodied tip of his katana.
— Three hits, then... That's how many it takes to pierce your hide in one spot. Now I know your limit.
Enraged by the wound, the basilisk hissed so loudly the very walls of the dungeon trembled. Its eyes flared with a dull, tomb-grey light, radiating powerful waves of ancient magic. Victor felt a colossal pressure on his soul; the magic within him rebelled like a caged beast trying to break free. He fought with all his might to maintain control, protecting his very essence from the mental assault.
When the pressure finally subsided, Victor froze. Genuine shock registered on his face. From under the red bandage, two thin, scarlet trails of blood slowly traced down his cheeks. He wiped them away with a trembling hand, unable to believe his own senses.
— No... I don't believe it, — he whispered.
With shaking fingers, Victor untied the knots and removed the bandage. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he raised his eyelids. The Sharingan flared with a crimson light, and the black tomoe commas began to spin rapidly, merging into a perfect circle. In that same second, the world froze for him. Victor saw everything in incredible slow motion: every speck of dust hung motionless in the air, and the serpent's scales shivered, outlined down to the smallest curve. His vision became sharp, keen, and frighteningly clear.
— YES! YE-E-ES! HA-HA-HA-HA! DAMN IT, YE-E-ES! — Victor broke into a shout that turned into a mad laugh. — Snakey! My dear! Thank you! Damn, finally!
He began literally jumping with joy and laughing wildly, leaving the basilisk in a state of utter confusion. For the first time in its long life, the ancient monster saw something like this. As the serpent slowly boiled with rage, Victor—completely forgetting the danger—began a victory dance right in front of its face.
— We are the champions, my friends! And we'll keep on fighting till the end! We are the...
Feeling thoroughly humiliated, the basilisk lunged with a furious hiss. But before its deadly fangs could reach the target, Victor turned back into crimson smoke and easily drifted away, still laughing.
Reappearing quite far from the basilisk, Victor coughed a couple of times to steady the ecstatic tremor in his voice and looked the beast straight in the eye. But nothing happened—the serpent's lethal gaze shattered against the crimson power of the Sharingan. The basilisk blinked in bewilderment, not understanding why the human before it was still alive, and then hissed fiercely again.
— Yes, yes, we're in a fight, I remember. Sorry, I've just waited so long for this, — Victor adjusted his collar, not looking away from the monster's vertical pupils.
The basilisk was already low to the floor, tensing for a decisive pounce, but Victor raised a warning hand:
— Oh, wait, wait a second!
The serpent paused, continuing to watch his every move, ready to sink its fangs into his flesh at any moment.
— Listen, I managed to break off one of your scales by hitting the same spot three times while I was blind. Now that I can see... Divinely see! Super-see! Ha-ha, I am an Uchiha! Ahem, sorry, got carried away. Anyway, here's the thing: my next strike will be your last.
The basilisk hissed, but differently this time. It turned its head slightly to the side for a moment, as if consulting with someone invisible, and then suddenly relaxed completely. Victor felt the bloodlust emanating from the serpent vanish without a trace.
— Good. So, do we go our separate ways? I'll go about my business, and you... well, you'll probably be killed today. Nothing personal.
But the basilisk didn't leave. It stared into Victor's pupils with terrifying curiosity. Approaching almost point-blank and studying the crimson pattern of his eyes for a few more seconds, it let out a long, drawn-out hiss.
Victor frowned:
— Sorry, pal, I don't speak Parseltongue. Your hissing is just noise to me.
— Where did you get those eyes?.. — a voice suddenly thundered in his mind. Ancient, heavy, reminding him of Smaug's voice.
Victor startled at the unexpectedness but didn't look away:
— Created them myself.
— "Created?.." Hmm. You humans were always capable of creating mad things.
— Yeah, we have that trait, — Victor smirked.
The basilisk nodded slowly, continuing to bore into him with a gaze that now held something resembling respect. Victor was getting quite tired of standing under the serpent's intense, scrutinizing stare.
— Well? Can I pass, or are we going to continue our fascinating duel?
— Help me, — the voice echoed in his head.
Victor frowned, picking up his blade's scabbard.
— What?
— Free me. Salazar left me here so that in dire times I would protect those who carry the purity of magic. He did not create me to be the lapdog of a madman.
— Oh-ho, I see. I'm starting to get it, — Victor hummed. — So you purposefully left everyone alive this year? Petrifying instead of killing—that was your doing?
— Yes.
— And what about that girl fifty years ago? — Victor narrowed his eyes.
The serpent was silent for a long time. Its massive head lowered heavily, almost touching the broken floor tiles.
— Hunger... I spent too long in eternal darkness and silence. When I was finally let out, I lost my mind for a moment from the scent of life. Her soul was so... appetizing. Only after feeding did I come to my senses. I managed to preserve a fragment of her essence so that she would not vanish completely.
— Could've just finished her off, — Victor huffed. — Honestly, you left the worst part of her. Because of her endless tantrums, there's an entire bathroom sitting empty in this school now.
— I did not wish her death, — the basilisk turned its head again and let out a short, pained hiss. — I must go. Child with the special eyes... help me, I beg of you.
The serpent began to fade right before his eyes, turning into a thick emerald mist. The smoke pulled rapidly toward the wall, being drawn back into the gaps between the stones. A moment later, the corridor was completely empty, leaving Victor alone amidst the ruined masonry and shattered floor.
— What a cool snake... When I grow up, I'm definitely buying one, — Victor chuckled, feeling the frantic spinning of the tomoe slow down until the crimson flash faded, and his usual blue eyes reappeared in his sockets.
He stumbled, nearly toppling over—the world blurred for a moment.
— Whoa... Talk about a brain strain. Not used to that yet.
After catching his breath and steadying himself, he pulled an empty vial from his pocket. Victor carefully brought the tip of his katana to it, where the dark, thick blood of the basilisk still glistened. A couple of priceless drops, capable of corroding almost any metal, fell into the vial. Sheathing the blade, he turned it back into a cane with the usual click.
— Sharingan... I have the Sharingan! Pff-ha-ha-ha! — He couldn't help himself again and broke into a dance. — Who has the Sharingan? I have the Sharingan! Who has the Sharingan? I have the Sharingan! Yeah, yeah, yeah!
At the end of his improvised performance, he pulled off some tectonic dance moves and finally calmed down. But a wide smile remained on his face—he had waited too long, too painfully for this day.
— So, what should I do with you now? — Victor looked curiously at the vial of blood. — Well, by all the tropes of the genre, we fought, which means we're friends now. And the Headmaster did ask me to help... As a model student, how can I refuse? Hmm, alright, I'll help. Harry, sorry, but today your maximum is choking your own one-eyed snake, not a basilisk.
Spinning on his heels, he headed back toward Dumbledore's office, whistling under his breath.