Unknown Prophecy (Ch. 61) (Patreon)

( Every character in this story is a legal adult over the age of 18 )

Unknown Prophecy

Chapter 61

Sunday lunch in the Great Hall had all the trappings of a disaster waiting to happen. The students were packed in tighter than usual. They were shoulder to shoulder at the long tables, and every one of them was nervously shoveling stew or bread into their mouths. Above them, the enchanted ceiling was gray with heavy clouds. It would rain soon, Harry thought. Professors hovered at the high table, scanning the crowd with faces that were either stern or twitching with panic. There was already talk of evacuations. Rumors about Crabbe’s leg burned through their magical society like a wildfire. The Board of Governors and the Ministry were already talking about shutting the school down. 

Harry sat near the center of the Gryffindor table with Hermione glued to his side. Her hand pressed hard on his knee under the table. Her hair was tied back so tight it lifted the corners of her eyes. She looked up from her bowl, her face uncharacteristically flushed.

He dropped his voice. “Are you ready?”

Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She tucked her skirt higher on her thighs, just enough for the tips of his fingers to slip underneath and trace the line of her panties. They’d spent all weekend prepping for his plan. Harry could feel the thrum of excitement through her body, even as she tried to look disinterested in her stew.

Harry checked the Slytherin table. Malfoy was in his usual spot, looking bored and pale. Beside him, Pansy Parkinson scribbled something on a napkin and passed it down the row. At the Hufflepuff table, Ernie Macmillan kept sneaking glances at the entrance, and the Ravenclaws were buzzing. Their heads were together as they feverishly gossiped about the possible closing of Hogwarts. The only person more on edge than Harry was McGonagall, who sat rigidly at the high table. 

“Do you have the cameras ready?” Harry asked. He dragged his nails lightly along Hermione’s inner thigh and felt her muscles jump under the touch.

She shifted in her seat. “I have three of them in my bag … just in case.” She shuddered, and her breath came out shallow and fast. “If your plan doesn’t work, it’ll be bad for everyone … not that I care about them,” she added. “But I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I can handle this. Don’t worry,” Harry said. “If this works, I’ll be so famous that I’ll practically be untouchable,” he told her. He pressed his palm against her and cupped the crotch of her panties.

She didn’t flinch. Instead, she just spread her knees until her foot knocked into his. “You’re disgusting,” she chirped. She meant it as a compliment. She loved how perverted he was, and he knew it.  

He smirked and turned his attention back to his food. He ate slowly, loving the way her hand shakily gripped his thigh.

A few seats away, Ginny leaned into one of her friends and whispered something. Her friend smiled shyly and nodded, but her face was pink and shiny with sweat. Harry could tell Ginny was trying to act like everything was normal, but her foot bounced nervously under the table. She kept glancing at Harry, as though he’d make everything right. 

Time passed agonizingly slowly. Seconds ticked into minutes, and distant thunder rolled overhead. Harry’s heart pounded loud enough that it felt like the whole table must hear it. His nerves and excitement didn’t show on the outside, though. As always, he was as cool as a cucumber. Hermione’s pussy throbbed against his hand. It was already wet, even before he started working the soft, damp cotton of her panties. He circled her covered clit with the gentlest pressure, and he felt the tremor that ran through her body. 

“Why can’t you keep your hands to yourself for five minutes?” Hermione’s voice was tight and quiet, but he could hear the excitement in it. “I’m trying to concentrate on my task.”

“Because,” he said, “I’m trying to keep you on your toes.”

A sudden hush fell across the Hall. Harry stopped moving and looked up. At the far end, the massive double doors trembled and groaned as they opened. Two aurors strode in, their boots clacking loudly on the hard floor. Their black robes swished as they hurried in, wands drawn and ready. The students watched them nervously. But then the doors slammed back, and a loud bang split the air. Everyone froze. The noise was unmistakable. They heard the deafening hiss of something ancient and hungry.

Hermione’s hand seized around his wrist, hard enough to bruise. Harry kept his expression blank, but his mind raced. He remembered the exact phrasing he’d used when he snuck into the dungeons Friday night disguised as Tom Riddle. The basilisk’s golden eyes had watched him as he spoke in Parseltongue.

“You will attack in the Great Hall,” Harry had told the beast, enunciating every word. “You will not use your gaze. I will charm your eyes. You will only use your fangs and your strength. You will not stop until I say so.”

The basilisk had flicked its tongue, as if amused. “Yessss,” it replied, “I like to bite. I will bite the ssssoft parts. I will bite until you are pleased, master.”

Harry had nodded, barely hiding his own revulsion and excitement. “Your target is the old man with the long, white hair and beard,” Harry told the monster. 

“Ahhhh … The old fool,” the basilisk hissed. “I remember your hatred of him.” Harry realized that the real Tom Riddle had probably spent some time degrading Dumbledore to the basilisk. Harry nodded as if he remembered as well. 

Now, the time had come.

The aurors shouted something, and the doors buckled again. They pointed their wands at the doors and cried out an incantation. The doors glowed as they tried to reinforce them. The hiss returned, louder and closer. Every student in the Hall was on their feet. Malfoy went gray, and his Slytherin girls looked over to him, silently begging for his comfort. Dumbledore and McGonagall shot to their feet, and he called for order, but his voice was drowned out by the noise.

Hermione squeezed his wrist as her hand trembled. Harry stroked her one last time, then pulled his hand out and clasped it over hers on his knee. “Now,” he whispered. Hermione silently grabbed her bag and snuck away, positioning herself to get the best shots of the upcoming action.

The doors exploded inward. Splinters covered everyone near, and both aurors’ bodies tumbled through the air from the sudden backlash of their protection spells collapsing. The basilisk poured into the Hall like a river of muscle and scales. Its body undulated, and its massive scales were as slick as oil. Its head was the size of a horse, and its eyes shone with a magical membrane of smoky gray. The spell Harry had used blocked the killing gaze but allowed the monster to see.

It reared up, tasting the air with its forked tongue. The noise in the Hall went from panic to hysteria. Students scrambled over benches, knocking each other down in their rush to escape. The aurors got up and fired spells, which ricocheted harmlessly off the creature’s scales.

The basilisk ignored the magic. Instead, it whipped its huge tail and knocked both Aurors out for the count. It spotted Dumbledore and surged forward, jaws open. Dumbledore swished his wand, and a golden wall of magic radiated out and protected the high table from disaster. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Hermione getting a picture of that. Harry smirked. He could use that to his advantage. 

The basilisk ran face-first into the golden, transparent wall and hissed angrily. It prodded the shield with its nose. Not finding a clear path through, it turned and whipped its massive tail at the golden light. Now it was Harry’s time to make himself a legend. 

Unknown Prophecy

The basilisk hammered its tail against the golden barrier with a sound like cannon fire. Dumbledore swayed, gripping the edge of the high table so hard his hand cramped painfully. McGonagall was beside him, her lips pressed to a thin line as she flicked her wand in sharp, angular gestures, strengthening the shield every time it flickered.

“Albus,” she hissed. “The shield won’t hold. It’s going to break through.” The basilisk’s tail slammed against it again, and the golden light flickered. 

“Keep it up!” Dumbledore spat the words like a curse. His voice was hoarse, and his eyes looked wild. It was nothing like the calm, grandfatherly figure the school remembered. “I need … Minerva, help me. We must not let it reach us.” The shield flickered and nearly collapsed from another brutal blow. 

Her eyes darted to the students, who were pinned against the far wall in a writhing, howling mass of black robes, pale faces, and wands trembling in fists. “What about the students?” she screeched.

“Help me!” Dumbledore bellowed, uncaring about everything else. Sweat ran down his forehead in watery rivers, and the golden shield rippled as the basilisk’s tail pounded it again and again. Each impact sent a shockwave through the air, rattling glassware and knocking platters from the table. The professors behind him looked like they were about to piss themselves. Sprout was screeching and clutching her chest. Flitwick had taken out his own wand and was doing what he could to keep the basilisk at bay. Snape was asking Aurora if she’d like to play a quick game of gobstones. It was chaotic. 

McGonagall choked back a retort, braced her wand in both hands, and poured her magic into the shield. The field brightened, but her hands started to tremble from the sudden drain.

The basilisk’s eyes looked dead. They were covered by a thin, clouded film from Harry’s charm, but its tongue darted out and tasted the air with every slam. The monster was massive, at least seventy feet from head to tail, and its coils took up half the space from the main entrance to the high table. Its physical power was incredible, evident in every heave of muscle beneath the scales.

It shifted tactics. The next blow was not with its tail, but with its body, as it reared up and slammed its head at the shield. The gold shimmer cracked. The sound was unbearable, like the shriek of metal being torn in half. Dumbledore staggered backwards, his knees buckling.

“Hold!” he croaked.

The basilisk hissed, and it almost sounded … gleeful? It reared up higher, scraping the charmed ceiling, and swung at the shield again. The impact threw McGonagall to the ground. She hit her head on the stone but didn’t let go of her wand.

Dumbledore went to his knees. His breath came in short, brutal pants, and the shield thinned to a mere wisp. The basilisk saw its chance and slammed its open maw against the fading light, hissing as it hit the golden energy.

Dumbledore’s voice was a ragged, desperate whisper. “Minerva … Hold steady.”

She forced herself upright, pressed her wand to the light, and dumped every ounce of magic she had into the shield. The field ballooned out for a moment, knocking the basilisk back a foot. Dumbledore groaned from the strain.

Unfortunately, one student thought it was a good idea to fire a Stunning Charm at the raging beast. The spell sizzled uselessly against its scales, but it was enough to capture its attention. 

The basilisk suddenly abandoned the high table. It wheeled, using its tail like a whip, and swept the first ten rows of tables clear of plates, cups, and at least three dozen students who didn’t get out of the way in time. The air was filled with food, flying limbs, and the high-pitched shrieks of students in mortal terror.

The monster’s head snaked across the room, searching for a target. It found Susan Bones.

She had been ducking behind one of the fallen benches, trying to pull Ernie up by the collar. The boy had been knocked out by a large chunk of the door when it was blasted in. She looked up with round, unblinking eyes and saw nothing but the scaled underbelly of the basilisk coming straight for her. Its mouth opened, and the rows of needle-sharp fangs hung menacingly. Each fang was longer than Susan’s forearm. The pink flesh of its throat vibrated with every terrifying hiss.

Susan screamed in sheer terror. Her scream was echoed by the voices of those around her. She shoved Ernie’s unconscious body aside and threw herself back. She landed on her hands, scraped her palms, and crab-walked until her back hit the cold stone of the wall. The basilisk’s head followed, and its tongue flicked in and out, tasting her scent. 

Its head shot forward, and its jaws opened wide enough to swallow a man whole. She didn’t even have time to say goodbye. The basilisk’s jaws encircled her and …

A pair of silver chains whipped out of nowhere, snapped around the basilisk’s neck, and yanked its head up just enough to miss Susan’s body. The chains glowed with a light so sharp it hurt to look at. The basilisk shrieked in outrage as its head slammed against the wall, but the chains held fast, digging into the scaled hide.

The snake thrashed, snapping at the air. The chains pulled tighter, strangling the beast. It tried to twist away, but each time it did, the chains cut deeper and forced its mouth shut. Susan gasped and looked around. The chains were pulled tight, and they led across the room until they converged on Harry Potter.

He stood at the center of the Great Hall with his extended hands glowing with the same silver fire as the chains. His jaw was set, his lips curled in a grimace of effort, and sweat dripped down his temple. Every muscle in his arms flexed, and the cords and veins strained against the load. Susan’s heart fluttered.

He looked at Susan, and his green eyes burned with focus. “Move!” he shouted.

She scrambled to her feet, dragging Ernie with her, and moved as quickly as she could. The basilisk twisted to pursue, but Harry yanked the chains harder, forcing the monster’s head to the floor with a thunderous crack. The stone shattered under the impact.

Students poured toward the far wall, piling into a screaming, desperate mob. Everyone tried to get as far away from it as they could. It wanted only to kill, and the chains were the only thing keeping it from a massacre.

Harry roared, “McGonagall! Get everyone out!” He didn’t look up. He just dug his heels into the floor as the basilisk tried to rear up again.

McGonagall’s face was streaked with blood from her head wound, but she crawled over to the nearest cluster of students and barked orders. “Form a line! You! Hufflepuffs … this way! Don’t push!” She pointed her wand at what was left of the main doors and blew them off their hinges. The crowd funneled toward the exit, trampling over splinters and each other in their panic.

The basilisk writhed, trying to crush Harry under the bulk of its body. The chains squealed as the snake flexed, but Harry just gritted his teeth and yanked back, holding the monster in place by sheer force of will.

The teachers regrouped, standing in a ragged line in front of the high table. “Is that …?” Sprout gaped at Harry, unable to finish the sentence.

Flitwick was blinking rapidly, and his voice had gone squeaky. “He’s got it! He’s actually got it!”

McGonagall shoved him out of the way and sprinted for Harry. “Potter!” she screamed. “Hold on … just a bit longer!” She was barely remaining conscious. 

The basilisk’s head slammed down again, rattling Harry’s teeth and sending cracks through the stone floor. The chains cut deeper into the monster’s flesh, but it barely slowed. Every muscle in Harry’s arms screamed in pain. Sweat ran in cold streams from his brow, stinging his eyes. Shrieks and wails echoed off the high, stained-glass windows.

Harry braced his heels into a sticky pool of someone’s spilled pumpkin juice. The basilisk bucked so hard that the chain in his right hand burned his palm. He kept his eyes fixed on the monster’s head, looking for any sign of exhaustion, but it was just pure, unfiltered rage and hunger. The whole Hall shook with every lurch of its body.

Somewhere behind him, McGonagall screamed again, “Potter! Don’t let go!” Her voice was raw and terrified.

The basilisk thrashed violently and snapped its jaws at anything that moved. He leaned backward, using the weight of his body to keep the chain tight. His feet skidded along the slick floor, but he refused to be pulled in. The students had gone silent. They all knew this was up to him. Any one of them could have been the first to die.

The chain in Harry’s left hand started to slip, and the silver links glowed white-hot with strain. The basilisk twisted, rolling the length of its muscled body. The diamond-hard scales tore gouges through the stone floor. It reared up, opened its maw wide, and lunged straight for Harry’s head.

He let go of the left chain.

The silence ended, and everyone screamed. The chain snapped backward, slashing through the air. The basilisk lunged with every ounce of muscle, and its jaws opened wide enough to swallow him whole.

At the last second, Harry snapped his arm forward and summoned a shimmering shield of incredible power. It was a glittering sheet of pure, silver magic. The basilisk’s snout crashed into it like a runaway train. For a split second, everything seemed to go silent. Then, with a shriek that vibrated the ground beneath their feet, the basilisk’s head exploded in a spray of silver sparks and charred scales.

The force of the impact sent Harry sliding back on his feet. The basilisk recoiled. Its head was smoking, and patches of scorched flesh were peeled back to the bone. It howled in agony so loud the windows rattled. Every person in the Great Hall clapped their hands over their ears, and some dropped to the floor from the pain of the deafening sound.

Harry saw his chance. He leaned back and yanked the remaining chain with both hands. The monster’s head snapped down, slamming into the floor. Blood splattered across the stone in huge, sticky puddles. Harry closed his eyes, channeled everything he had, and conjured the sword.

It was nothing like the ancient blade that resided in the Sorting Hat. This was a weapon of a true hero. It was a meter and a half of pure, golden light, and it burned so bright that it hurt to look at. 

The basilisk lifted its head and bared its fangs. Its jaw was cracked with one fang sheared off at the root, but it was still coming … and it was still full of hatred and rage. Harry waited for the exact right second to act. As the open maw was about to bite down, Harry drove the sword upward.

The blade pierced the soft palate and brain with a sizzling crackle. Harry drove it in up to the hilt and twisted for good measure. The light poured out of the top of the basilisk’s head, frying nerves and bursting blood vessels. The monster tried to scream, but the sound was cut off. Its body jerked a few times, then fell still. The beast collapsed to the ground with a loud, heavy thunk. The entire Hall went dead silent.

Harry stood there, panting. The sword evaporated with a sizzle. He could taste blood on his lips, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the beast or if he had bitten his own tongue during the struggle.

For a second, no one moved. Then the students erupted into a roar so loud it drowned out the echo of the basilisk’s death throes. They rushed the floor, swarmed around the corpse, and waved their wands and fists in the air. Even the teachers looked stunned. McGonagall collapsed to her knees, her face streaked with blood, but she never took her eyes off Harry.

Someone shouted, “He did it! He killed it!” and the rest picked up the chant. “Potter! Potter! Potter!”

Harry wiped his face and smiled heroically. Though no one else could, Harry could hear the flash of Hermione’s camera going off. The crowd pushed in, and everyone wanted to touch him. Even some Slytherins snuck up to get a better look.

Susan pushed through the bodies and threw herself onto Harry, hugging him so hard it drove the breath from his lungs. She was shaking with adrenaline. “You’re insane,” she whispered into his ear, but she was crying, too.

He held her for a moment, then looked up. The Hall was in ruins. Tables were smashed to splinters, plates and food were ground into the floor, and dozens of students lay strewn across the floor. Some were just dazed, but some were injured from the basilisk’s thrashing. Thankfully, everyone was still alive. It all went off according to plan. 

He met Dumbledore’s gaze across the room. The old man looked ancient now. His face was tired and slack, and his beard was streaked with spilled soup. For the first time, Harry saw real fear in those blue eyes. Harry knew that he didn’t fear the basilisk or the potential loss of his students. No, he feared Harry, and Harry loved every second of it. 

McGonagall staggered over. She stopped at Harry’s feet and looked at the dead basilisk. She then examined the sword-shaped scorch mark on the monster’s head. “How …” She tried again. “How did you do that?”

He shrugged with a smirk. “I paid attention in class,” he said, and the whole Gryffindor table laughed in delight.

McGonagall shook her head and put a trembling hand on his shoulder. “You saved everyone, Potter,” she said. “I don’t know how, but you did.”

Harry nodded. He was starting to feel the exhaustion set in, but he kept standing. Someone pressed a handkerchief into his hand. He wiped his face and handed it back. He didn’t want to look like a mess in the victory photos.

The students closed in. All of them were desperate to be near the legend. Some tried to rip pieces of basilisk scale for souvenirs, but the professors quickly stopped them. Others just wanted to touch Harry’s shoulder, as if a little of his luck would rub off.

Somewhere above, the enchanted sky had cleared. The rain had stopped, and a shaft of actual sunlight broke through the clouds, painting the whole carnage in gold. Hermione made sure to get the perfect hero shot. When she had taken enough pictures, she moved to his side and looped her arm through his. She whispered in his ear, “This will make you even more impossible, you know.”

He kissed her temple. “Good. I hate being normal.”

McGonagall herded him to the side for a statement. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen, but Harry guessed that he might have gone to the hospital wing. He looked on the verge of collapse. The other professors hovered in the background, collecting the injured students.

McGonagall tried to maintain order, but it was a losing battle. She eventually had to shoo everyone away. The students poured out of the Hall in clusters. Some went to their dorms, some milled about outside the ruined doors, and a few brave souls tried to carve their initials in the basilisk’s scales before Filch chased them off with threats of detention. 

Hermione and the rest of the Gryffindor girls found Harry in the common room. He was sprawled in an armchair, his eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. Hermione climbed into his lap and curled herself around him. The others joined, draping over him like a pride of lions on a fresh kill. They just wanted to be near him. They ran their fingers along his arms and jaw, listening to him regale them with tales of his heroics. When he was done, there wasn’t a dry pair of panties left in the whole tower.