Basilisk—that was its name.
It was the name given to it nearly a thousand years ago by its creator, Salazar Slytherin.
"Serpent," "King of Snakes," or "Mad Viper"—wizards had many names for it. The Basilisk knew they feared it, dreaded it. But none of that mattered. It had a mission to fulfill.
Before Salazar Slytherin left Hogwarts Castle, he left behind the Chamber of Secrets… and one of the Basilisk's duties was to guard the secrets within, awaiting the return of Slytherin's heir.
For a thousand years, the Basilisk roamed beneath the castle, surviving on rats, bats, and the occasional bird… Food was scarce. It lived in a state of constant hunger. Sometimes, when it grew too weak, it would slip into hibernation.
It had never intended to enter the castle proper. It knew it wouldn't be welcome. Its appearance would bring only terror.
But more importantly, it had a mission—one instilled in it by Salazar Slytherin himself.
Some claimed that Salazar wanted to purge the school of all Muggle-borns and those lacking magical power… but the Basilisk knew better.
No one loved this school more than Salazar Slytherin—not even his three old friends. Even after dying across the ocean, the Basilisk could still feel its master's undying devotion to Hogwarts.
Salazar opposed the admission of Muggle-borns for one simple reason: he believed they couldn't be trusted.
In an age of rampant witch hunts—when Muggles and wizards were locked in deep hostility, and even the greatest wizard could be dragged to the stake—Slytherin believed that letting Muggle-borns into Hogwarts was a grave risk. Who knew if they might expose the castle's existence? And if Hogwarts was discovered, another war between Muggles and wizards would surely follow.
His friends disagreed. To them, Muggle-borns were proof that magical talent could arise anywhere. Without new blood, they argued, the wizarding world would grow stagnant and fade. Their argument was fierce.
In the end, Slytherin lost. He left the castle and the school behind.
But even in leaving, Salazar never meant to harm the Muggle-born students. To him, he was still Hogwarts' Headmaster—and even those he opposed were still his students.
And a headmaster would never harm his students… not even the ones he didn't like.
That was the mission passed on to the Basilisk.
For centuries, it slumbered beneath Hogwarts—not only to protect the Chamber, but to protect the castle and all those inside it.
...
But fifty years ago, the Chamber was opened.
The Basilisk had stirred with purpose. It believed its mission was finally reaching its end.
But to its shock, the new master was nothing like Salazar. This "heir of Slytherin," Tom Riddle, was far more radical and cruel.
He wanted to purge the school of all "Mudbloods" and "Squibs"—through death.
The Basilisk tried to reason with him, to explain… but failed.
Tom Riddle ignored it completely. To him, the Basilisk was just a dumb, violent creature.
Worse still, Tom Riddle was a Parselmouth. And for serpents, Parseltongue was inescapable. No snake—no matter how powerful—could resist it. Not even the King of Serpents.
Forced to obey, the Basilisk left the Chamber and stalked the castle, attacking lone Muggle-born students.
Still, the Basilisk tried to resist in its own way. It knew that its venomous fangs and deadly gaze could easily kill. So, it made small changes to the way it followed orders.
During attacks, it carefully avoided direct eye contact. It would only appear through reflections or indirect means. The damage it caused was still serious—but it kept them alive.
Nearly ten students had been attacked, but the Basilisk had tried to spare them all… until one tragic accident.
Tom Riddle's next target was a girl with thick glasses. The Basilisk knew that her glasses would protect her eyes—it wouldn't be a fatal gaze. But the girl had been crying. And through her tears, she removed her glasses...
She died.
The Basilisk fell into deep guilt. It began to resist Tom's commands outright.
But Parseltongue was too powerful. The resistance was futile.
Thankfully, after that girl's death, Tom Riddle never opened the Chamber again. The Basilisk thought it was finally free.
Until six months ago—when the Chamber was opened again.
By the same person.
...
Now, the Basilisk lay curled in its nest within the Chamber of Secrets, licking its wounds.
For the past six months, just like fifty years ago, it had been forced to attack students—following Parseltongue commands.
But three days ago, something went wrong. During one attack, it had been injured.
A large wizard had struck it with a strange wand. Something remained in the wound, and despite the Basilisk's powerful healing abilities, it had not recovered.
Its strength was fading.
From above the Chamber, sounds echoed down.
Could it be Tom Riddle again? Even with its injuries, was he planning another attack?
The Basilisk slowly slithered out of its nest.
But it wasn't Tom's cold voice this time. The voice that opened the Chamber belonged to a young boy—and it was much gentler.
There were other sounds, too.
Footsteps.
Several adult wizards had entered the Chamber.