Mysterious Journey

Chapter 1011: Decapitation and Dalliance

Hogwarts, Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets.

Shattered marble fragments scattered through the space, creating ripples on the wizards' magical armor.

The Basilisk writhed in agony within the misshapen, jagged "thorn stone forest" trap. The sound of its heavy body impacting the barbed and irregularly mantled ground echoed, its sluggish sliding process resembling a worn-out, stalling cassette tape, pausing intermittently.

Scrimgeour, with his eyes tightly shut, began the second round of spell-casting as instructed by Dumbledore.

The rapid and forceful incantations filled the air, yet it still felt like an eternity...

Something exploded.

A low roar, akin to a dragon's, emanated from the front, interspersed with pained hisses.

Rufus Scrimgeour had no idea what a Basilisk's cry should sound like, but he could tell the monster was in pain. Besides the pungent aroma of potions and the dust of stone, a faint, fishy stench of blood suddenly permeated the air, growing stronger by the second.

Wait! Rather than the fishy smell intensifying, it was more like...

The Basilisk was approaching him!

He could almost conjure in his mind the grotesque image of the Basilisk struggling closer and closer to them.

Suddenly, he heard a dull thud directly in front of him.

*Thump.*

It sounded as if something heavy had fallen from a great height onto a grass mat or a thick mattress.

In the next instant, the bloody stench in the air intensified tenfold.

The Basilisk's rustling, slithering sounds abruptly transformed into violent struggles, crashes, and increasingly frantic hisses.

At the same time, Dumbledore's gentle, calm voice finally reached their ears.

"Everyone, turn around, or rather, you don't have to turn around. In any case, you may open your eyes now..."

Hearing Dumbledore's voice, Rufus Scrimgeour could no longer contain himself. As the Head of the Auror Office, this was possibly the strangest magical battle he had ever experienced in his life, not even knowing what he was fighting from start to finish.

He cracked his eyes open just a sliver, trying to assess the situation.

About five meters away from Scrimgeour and the others, a colossal Basilisk was coiled and entwined amidst the misshapen, jagged "stone thorns." It possessed a vibrant, venomous green hue, characteristic of serpents. Its body was at least as thick as the trunks of several decades-old oak trees. Covered in countless tiny, gruesome wounds, a foul-smelling black fluid oozed incessantly, dripping onto the floor. But...

Scrimgeour's gaze froze at the upper end of the Basilisk, at the location where its flat, massive head should have been.

A huge stone block, at least three or four meters high and resembling a stone wall, was pressing down on where the head should have been. Behind the stone wall, a heavy, dark metal ax blade, seemingly magnified tenfold, was slowly rising, ink-like black blood dripping from its edge.

Not far away, Dumbledore held his wand aloft, as if a conductor preparing to lead an orchestra.

"Professor Dumbledore, what are you doing..."

Before Scrimgeour could finish his question, Dumbledore casually lowered his wrist.

*Thump.*

The giant metal ax blade silently descended, striking the Basilisk's "nape" with the same strange thud Scrimgeour had heard earlier.

Immediately, another surge of black blood splattered onto the ground, like a sudden downpour.

The Basilisk's tail thrashed wildly behind the ax blade.

Even though that area was filled with stone spikes protruding in all directions, it showed no signs of slowing or stopping.

The stone spikes etched horrifying gashes into its vibrant green scales, but no matter how it struggled, it couldn't escape. Under the wizards' magic, the broken spikes rapidly restored themselves as if alive, piercing deeper into the fissures, tearing open even larger wounds.

And directly above, the metal ax blade continued its cycle of rising and falling, without a single pause.

The Basilisk's pained snorts grew weaker and weaker.

"Stop!" Scrimgeour heard Newt's voice, hoarse and somewhat shrill. "It's completely lost its combat ability! It's no longer a threat! Professor Dumbledore! You don't have to be an executioner. Perhaps we can find better ways! Or more value!"

Dumbledore's wand ceased its undulations, and the unsharpened giant ax paused in mid-air, dripping viscous blood.

"So, you mean to capture and attempt to tame it? Or study it?"

The old man turned his head, thoughtfully scrutinizing Newt in front of him, a hint of strangeness in his tone.

Newt glanced at the dying Basilisk and spoke quickly, with a hint of urgency.

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore. After all, it is Salazar Slytherin's legacy in Hogwarts. If possible, we might be able to study and understand this... while limiting its danger and observing it cautiously..."

"That sounds somewhat reasonable, but—"

Just as Newt was racking his brains to organize his thoughts, his words abruptly stopped, and a look of terror appeared on his face.

From an angle invisible to Scrimgeour and the others, "Dumbledore" suddenly grinned, an evil and gleeful light flashing in his blue eyes.

"My dear Mr. Scamander—these requests are not within the scope of our prior agreement..."

In the next instant, "Dumbledore" swept his wand in a half-arc.

The heavy, enormous metal ax blade drifted upwards towards the top of the chamber, finally stopping at the ceiling.

"So, I'm very sorry..."

Albusn't Dumbledore said softly, casually conducting his wand to draw a cadence.

"I refuse!"

The giant metal ax blade whistled down, transforming into a blurred afterimage.

*Boom!*

With a terrifying, deafening sound, the metal ax blade plunged deep into the marble slab floor, and a torrent of black blood erupted like a fountain, sending the headless Basilisk's body flying upwards, thrashing and spewing black blood, as if hell itself had descended.

At the same time, an invisible magical shield flickered in the darkened air.

The gushing Basilisk blood, as if encountering a transparent umbrella, abruptly froze before everyone's eyes.

Then, it slowly began to flow downwards.

"Thank you all for your hard work; we can begin cleaning up the battlefield now—"

Dumbledore turned around, looking at the somewhat dazed Ministry of Magic staff behind him, his unique warm smile gracing his face.

"Thanks to everyone's collective effort in restraining the Basilisk and creating the geographical advantage, we were able to safely and efficiently eliminate a years-long threat to Hogwarts. This is a momentous occasion worth remembering for a lifetime and recording in the Hogwarts history books... But our task is not yet complete. We still need to find ways to explore and handle the Basilisk's lair and the corpse of this great serpent. So, I'm afraid everyone will have to put in a little more effort."

Amid Newt's somewhat bewildered, collapsing gaze, "Dumbledore" spoke methodically, as before.

"Oh, right, we also need to inform those above. Everything is going smoothly on our end, so they can rest assured."

"Gryffindor, deduct 45 points; Hufflepuff, add..."

… … … … … …

Several hours later.

Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office.

Aileen, Newt, Nicolas, the three little ones, and a bewildered Lockhart stood by the door, silently watching the two centenarian wizards not far away who had just completed a "transfiguration" performance.

Grindelwald was still waving his wand, patiently cleaning the mud clinging to the bottom of his robes.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, sat behind his desk, his fingers interlaced, his expression calm and serene.

As if just minutes before, the wizard wearing the face of "Otto Apocalypse" was someone else entirely.

For a moment, the room was silent.

Suddenly, a resentful, hoarse, and low voice broke the silence.

"Reasons? I think we deserve an explanation."

Newt Scamander said calmly. After "Albusn't Dumbledore" revealed his true identity, he had continued to perfectly fulfill his original duty, assisting the Ministry of Magic staff in disassembling and cleaning up the Basilisk's corpse, and roughly exploring the Basilisk's lair.

However, this did not mean that he had forgiven these two old swindlers for switching identities.

The only consolation for Newt was that, this time, he was not the only one being kept in the dark.

Even the quirky Aileen, the experienced Nicolas Flamel, had also been deceived by Dumbledore and Grindelwald.

In fact, after learning that "Old Potato" and "Old Turnip" had once again switched identities, the anger in Aileen's heart was no less than that of a Newt Scamander who had just been played. This wave could be said to have successfully reminded her of a small episode.

With new and old grievances combined, this time she decided to settle the score properly.

Aileen's gaze passed Newt, who was standing in front, and looked towards the two old guys in the Headmaster's office.

"Explain, what's going on?"

Professor Dumbledore smiled, sitting behind the mahogany desk. Next to him, Grindelwald, who had finished cleaning the mud from the edge of his robe, leaned against the bookshelf with his hands in his pockets, clearly not intending to take the initiative to explain.

Fawkes the phoenix struggled to emerge from Aileen's collar, looking at Dumbledore not far away, somewhat confused.

Just then, Dumbledore said softly with a smile.

"Oh, first, I must apologize..."

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Yay!