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Chapter Ten – The Unplanned Battle
Lockhart led Hermione toward the Headmaster's office. They were just about to turn a corner when he suddenly froze. A prickling sense of danger swept over him. The walls gave a faint tremor.
The Basilisk was slithering through a nearby water pipe.
He immediately covered Hermione's eyes and turned her toward him.
"Don't look at anything," he ordered.
She didn't fight him—quite the opposite. Hermione melted into him like some startled kitten, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, face burning red.
Lockhart felt absurdly awkward.
Why does this look like we're embracing in a corridor? Why is this happening now?
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Lockhart edged toward the corner, wand ready. A low, unmistakable hiss echoed through the hallway.
Then an overpowering stench hit them—and the Basilisk surged out of the shadows.
He shut his eyes on instinct. "Protect yourself!"
A violent impact sent both him and Hermione flying backwards.
"Incoming—keep your eyes shut!" he shouted mid-air. "Flash!"
They crashed to the ground. When Lockhart risked opening his eyes a crack, he saw the Basilisk thrashing wildly, its eyelids squeezed shut. The Flash spell had temporarily blinded it.
His wand, however, had been knocked out of reach.
As he scrambled across the floor, a grubby figure popped into view. A house-elf scooped up the wand and held it out with trembling hands.
"Sir must protect Harry," Dobby whispered. Then he vanished with a snap.
Dobby's at Hogwarts right now?! How does he even manage the Malfoy household? Lucius really is cursed with the worst house-elf in wizarding history. No—focus!
The Basilisk was still blinded; the chance wouldn't last.
"Eye-Bleeding Curse!" he shouted.
Its eyelids clenched tighter. Hermione lay nearby, trembling from the fall, but keeping her eyes firmly shut. Smart girl—no screaming, no fuss.
Lockhart yanked a packet of potions from his robes.
"Shatter! Barrage!"
The packet burst in mid-air, scattering powder that the Barrage Charm propelled straight into the Basilisk's face. Lockhart snapped his eyes shut just in time.
The Basilisk opened its eyes a fraction of a second too early—right before the powder struck.
Merlin knows what that potion was. I grabbed it at random. If it's an aphrodisiac, so be it. Whatever it is, it has to hurt when it hits your eyes.
The monster screeched, forced to clamp its eyelids closed again.
Infuriated beyond measure, the Basilisk lunged blindly toward the sound of its attacker. Lockhart had already cast a Silencing Charm on Hermione, then focused entirely on his target.
Attack spells required clear focus on the point of impact—not eye contact. With its eyes shut, the Basilisk was vulnerable.
"One-Breath Breakthrough!"
It wasn't a complicated spell—more like a piercing version of a cutting charm—but it hit hard. Both of the Basilisk's eyes, already damaged, took another devastating blow.
Roaring in pain, the creature charged after him. Lockhart cast shield after shield, but the monster's magic resistance was immense. He couldn't kill it—only lure it somewhere with backup.
He sprinted toward the entrance hall.
Students shrieked and scattered as they saw their Defence professor being chased by a serpent the size of a train car.
"MOVE! I've got this!" Lockhart bellowed.
He absolutely did not have this.
The Basilisk burst into the Great Hall behind him.
Fortunately, Professor McGonagall was already there.
"Professor! This is the monster from the Chamber! Help me!"
McGonagall's face went white, but she reacted instantly.
"All students, leave at once!"
The Basilisk turned its hatred on her.
McGonagall was formidable—Dumbledore had chosen her for a reason. With only a handful of spells, she tore straight through the Basilisk's defences.
Blood poured across the stone floor.
Just as she braced to deliver the finishing blow, Dumbledore strode in.
"Blazing Flames."
The words were soft, almost gentle.
Magic erupted.
Lockhart felt the wave of power—contained, precise, impossibly controlled. Flames blossomed only around the Basilisk's body, consuming it without igniting so much as a scrap of nearby stone.
In seconds, only a charred skeleton remained.
Lockhart stared, shaken.
Everyone knows that spell… but not like that. He didn't even singe my robes. Is this the gulf between ordinary wizards and the truly legendary?
But there was no time for awe.
He needed to find Ginny. Or more accurately—the diary. He had no idea what consequences tampering with the plot would bring, but he knew he couldn't let the Horcrux slip away.
"Professor Lockhart, what is the meaning of this?" Dumbledore demanded.
"I'm sorry, Headmaster, I've got something more urgent to handle!"
Lockhart sprinted back to where they'd first encountered the serpent—but Ginny was gone. Only a crowd of confused students remained.
He flicked his wand.
"Find Ginny—show me the way!"
The wand wrenched itself into a direction.
Once you step out of Hogwarts' anti-Apparition wards… the diary could vanish forever.
Lockhart chased the wand's pull, with Dumbledore and McGonagall close behind.
He finally spotted them—Ginny and Hermione together.
"Ginny! Stop! Hermione—get away from her!"
He shoved Hermione aside.
Suddenly, Ginny pressed a wand to his ribs.
"Let me go. No one gets hurt," she said faintly, confusion flickering in her eyes.
Lockhart slowly raised his hands.
Ginny forced him toward the Quidditch pitch. She was trying to get a broom—to escape with the diary. Once she reached the boundary, she could Disapparate with Voldemort's Horcrux.
Hermione, Dumbledore, and McGonagall followed, helpless to intervene without risking him.
Lockhart had never imagined he'd become a hostage. In his previous life, he was too ordinary for anyone to bother with. In this life, he had survived only by being cautious.
Now he was walking to his death.
As the distance closed and the Quidditch pitch loomed, Dumbledore's expression turned grim. Lockhart's palms were slick with sweat.
Dumbledore was a good man—but disastrously willing to sacrifice himself. He tended to assume his allies were the same.
Dumbledore will never let that Horcrux escape. Never.
Lockhart swallowed hard.
If he was going to die anyway… he would at least take a shot.
He seized Ginny's wand with his free hand.
"Voldemort," he spat, "let's see what magic this stolen body of yours can manage."
Ginny's expression twisted, ancient and chilling.
"You know who I am?"
Her grip tightened.
"If you insist… then watch."
"Avada Kedavra."
Lockhart barely had time for a final, panicked thought:
Is the Defence Against the Dark Arts post really… actually cursed?
Green light filled the world.
Then darkness swallowed everything.
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