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Chapter 61 - Chapter 61: The Sword of Gryffindor — Not a Hero’s Epic, But Absolute Magical Domination

In the next moment, under Harry and Ron's horrified gaze—

A massive head slowly emerged from the darkness inside the statue's mouth.

Then came its body.

And more body.

And more.

A basilisk, easily over sixty feet long, thicker than the trunk of an oak tree, slithered out of the statue.

Each movement made the chamber floor tremble.

Its enormous yellow eyes opened—

Two giant lanterns filled with death.

The ancient beast had awakened.

Harry's Despair

Facing such a terrifying creature from the darkest legends, Harry felt something he had never truly experienced before.

Despair.

His wand trembled in his sweaty hand.

Every spell he knew suddenly felt meaningless.

Against something like this…

He was just a child throwing pebbles at a mountain.

It was over.

Fawkes and the Sword

Then suddenly—

A bright cry echoed through the chamber.

Clear.

Powerful.

Full of hope.

A crimson-and-gold streak of fire burst through the entrance.

It was Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix.

The bird circled above Harry and dropped something at his feet.

The Sorting Hat.

Before Harry could react, Fawkes shrieked again and shot toward the basilisk like a blazing comet.

"SSSSSS—!"

The basilisk roared in pain.

Fawkes struck with perfect precision—

Pecking directly into its enormous eyes.

Blood burst from the ruined sockets.

The basilisk's most terrifying weapon—

its deadly gaze—

was destroyed.

"No!" Tom Riddle shouted in fury.

Harry seized the moment.

He grabbed the Sorting Hat and shoved his hand inside.

His fingers touched something cold and solid.

Then—

CLANG!

With a ringing sound like a dragon's roar, Harry pulled out a magnificent silver sword.

Its hilt was set with glittering rubies.

The Sword of Gryffindor.

Harry gripped it with both hands.

The shining blade filled him with courage.

Fear vanished.

He prepared himself.

To fight the monster.

A desperate battle.

A heroic legend.

Phoenix cries.

Shining sword.

Heroic resolve.

Destined duel.

The atmosphere in the chamber reached a dramatic peak—

Lucian Interrupts

"Such a waste of time."

A calm voice cut through the scene like ice water poured over flames.

Lucian Thornwick shook his head slightly.

He didn't even look at Harry, who was preparing for a heroic battle.

He didn't care about the furious Riddle either.

Lucian simply stepped forward.

One step.

He walked past Harry.

And stopped directly in front of the gigantic basilisk.

The contrast was surreal.

A thin young wizard standing before a monster large enough to swallow him whole.

Lucian looked up calmly.

Then he opened his mouth.

He spoke Parseltongue.

But the sound was completely different from Riddle's.

It was deeper.

Older.

More authoritative.

Like the language of the first serpent, the origin of all snakes.

The sound echoed across the chamber like divine law.

Harry and Ron heard the meaning clearly in their minds.

The message was absurdly simple.

"Kneel, worm."

The Basilisk Submits

Silence fell.

The raging basilisk froze.

Its massive head stopped mid-swing.

Its open jaws slowly closed.

Then—

Its colossal body trembled.

Not with rage.

Not with pain.

But with fear.

Ancient instinct screamed inside its mind.

The voice it had just heard was not a command.

It was the law.

A decree carved into the deepest bloodline of all serpents.

A command from something higher.

Something absolute.

Every trace of its savagery vanished instantly.

Under Harry, Ron, and Riddle's stunned eyes—

The terrifying basilisk lowered its head.

Slowly.

Humbly.

Its massive body curled downward.

Until its enormous head rested obediently at Lucian's feet.

The monster trembled like a scolded pet.

The chamber fell completely silent.

Riddle's Shock

Harry stood frozen with the Sword of Gryffindor in his hands.

Ron stared with his mouth wide open.

And Tom Riddle—

The confident smile on his face shattered instantly.

The basilisk was supposed to obey him.

He was Slytherin's heir.

Why was it bowing to someone else?

And not just obeying—

Worshipping.

Lucian's Judgment

Lucian didn't even look at the basilisk.

To him, it really was just a worm.

Instead, he turned his gaze toward Riddle.

His expression was calm.

Cold.

Almost bored.

Then he spoke.

"Salazar Slytherin…"

"…would not hide in the shadows and manipulate a helpless girl to achieve his goals."

The words hit Riddle like a slap.

Lucian continued calmly.

"You are not his heir."

"You are merely a thief."

"A thief who stole a trace of his bloodline and borrowed his name."

"But learned nothing of his pride."

Riddle's face twisted with rage.

"SHUT UP!" he screamed.

"I am Slytherin's greatest descendant! I will surpass him! I will become the greatest wizard in history!"

He tried commanding the basilisk again.

But the creature didn't move.

It remained trembling at Lucian's feet.

Lucian sighed softly.

"Too noisy."

He raised his hand.

No wand.

No incantation.

Just his palm facing Riddle.

Spell Creation: Soul Infiltration

Golden light ignited in Lucian's eyes.

Heaven-Defying Comprehension — Activated

Research Topic:

How to dominate a Horcrux without destroying its soul fragment.

Solution:

Treat the Horcrux's internal memory world as a separate spiritual dimension.

Invade it with superior willpower.

Seize control from within.

Spell Created:

[Soul Infiltration]

A massive wave of mental power burst from Lucian.

An invisible blade of consciousness pierced straight into Riddle's chest.

Riddle screamed in agony.

It felt like another mind had forcibly logged into his existence.

Harry and Ron stepped back in shock.

They saw Lucian standing still—

Yet Riddle was writhing like he was being tortured.

His body flickered violently.

Then Lucian closed his eyes.

His consciousness vanished from the physical world.

Inside the Diary

Lucian opened his eyes again.

But the Chamber of Secrets was gone.

He stood in a gray, endless space filled with drifting fragments of memory.

Scenes floated like broken film reels.

This was the inner world of the diary.

The spiritual space created by sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle's memories and ambitions.

At the center of this world stood the teenage Riddle himself.

He stared at Lucian in horror.

"How… how did you get in here?"

"That's impossible!"

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