A Certain Magical Hogwarts

The appearance of the basilisk plunged the entire Quidditch stadium into chaos.

Professor Snape's face turned pale. 

He abruptly stood up and pushed against the flow of panicked students, sprinting toward the higher levels of the Slytherin stands.

From the topmost point, his gaze swept over the massive, slithering form of the basilisk as he desperately scanned the Gryffindor stands.

He searched the crowd, but Harry Potter was nowhere to be seen.

Snape almost fainted from rage and panic. He clenched his fists, wishing he could pummel a few Gryffindor students to vent his fury.

Then, as if struck by a realization, Snape's eyes widened in fear. He turned to look toward the castle, his knuckles whitening as his hands trembled uncontrollably.

Snape swallowed hard and grabbed Slytherin Prefect Gemma Farley by the shoulders. "Take the students back to the common room!" he ordered hoarsely.

Without another word, Snape turned and leaped off the four-meter-high stands.

Gemma Farley's jaw dropped in shock. Stammering, she gasped, "Th-the Head of House just… killed himself?!"

Fortunately, Farley's rationality prevailed. She did not follow Snape's dramatic jump with a resounding "I'll Jump with you" and leap after him. 

Instead, she took a brief moment to mourn the apparent loss of her Head of House before rushing to gather the Slytherin students and lead them to safety.

Snape, of course, had no intention of killing himself. 

Before landing, he used magic to slow his descent. However, lacking grace, he stepped on his left foot with his right, tumbled to the ground and rolled several times before managing to stand.

Ignoring the dust on his robes, Snape bolted toward the castle in a blind panic.

Meanwhile, the basilisk continued its advance toward the Gryffindor stands.

Professor McGonagall reacted first. Catching sight of the basilisk's shimmering green scales, she instinctively averted her gaze.

The Gryffindor students, however, were not so lucky.

Those who met the basilisk's eyes immediately began to bleed from their sockets, the crimson streaks smearing their faces before they froze in place and collapsed lifelessly in their seats.

Screams erupted among the students. Some huddled together, trembling in terror as they stared at their fallen peers.

McGonagall raised her wand with a trembling hand and cast a Sonorus Charm, her amplified voice echoing across the Quidditch stadium:

"Do not look into the basilisk's eyes!"

By now, the basilisk had coiled its massive body, inching closer to McGonagall, who stood at the forefront of the Gryffindor stands.

Keeping her eyes firmly downcast, McGonagall pointed her wand ahead. "Impedimenta!"

A bluish-white glow burst forth, creating an invisible barrier several meters in front of her.

The basilisk hissed, its blood-red tongue flickering as its enormous fangs dripped green venom. When the venom struck the magical barrier, a sizzling sound filled the air, and wisps of acrid smoke rose from the shield.

McGonagall flinched as the barrier shattered into a burst of light. The basilisk lunged again.

…

From above, William dove down on his Nimbus 2000, whistling sharply as he descended. 

His broom shot toward the ground at full speed, showing no sign of slowing, as though he intended to crash.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

McGonagall glanced upward briefly and understood immediately. 

She leaped off the stands, transforming midair into a tabby cat. Claws extended, she clung to the tail of William's broom.

William abruptly halted his dive and shot upward in a steep spiral.

It was a Wronski Feint.

As William soared past the basilisk's enormous head, he pointed his wand and muttered coldly, "Conjunctivitis!"

A red beam of light struck the basilisk in the face. William didn't wait to see the results; he pushed his broom to its limits, climbing higher into the sky.

The basilisk let out a deafening roar of pain, shaking the ground.

A haunting melody pierced the air.

Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, had arrived.

The basilisk writhed, blood pouring from one of its eyes as it hissed and snapped at the tiny bird. Fawkes, despite its smaller size, faced the monstrous serpent without fear.

The basilisk coiled tighter, its venom pooling at the corners of its mouth as it reared up to strike.

Dumbledore appeared beside Fawkes without warning.

He descended gracefully, his wand already in motion. 

A red beam of magic shot forth, striking the basilisk squarely at its weak spot, seven inches below its head.

The impact sent the serpent crashing backward, carving a massive crater in the ground as it landed. Shockwaves rippled outward from the strike.

Fawkes soared down, its golden beak piercing the basilisk's remaining eye, rendering the creature completely blind.

Dumbledore drew a gleaming sword from thin air, its ruby-encrusted hilt catching the sunlight.

Unhurried and composed, his flowing robes billowing around him, Dumbledore stepped toward the basilisk. Fawkes perched on his shoulder as he leaped onto the creature's head.

With a single, decisive motion, Dumbledore plunged the sword into the basilisk's skull. Twisting the blade, he severed the head cleanly. The massive, bloodied head rolled to the ground, green venom spraying everywhere.

Dumbledore turned his gaze to the stadium, where panicked cries and hurried footsteps filled the air.

"Professors," he commanded, his voice reverberating through the chaos, "escort your students to their common rooms. House Heads, take the injured to the hospital wing and compile the list of the deceased."

His words brought a semblance of order, and the teachers and students began to act.

"Come along, William," McGonagall said softly, her thin lips quivering as though she were about to cry, "Let's get you checked out at the hospital wing…"

"No." Dumbledore's voice cut in as he approached. "William will stay. I need him, Minerva."

Dumbledore's piercing gaze met William's, and after a brief moment of silent understanding, William nodded almost imperceptibly.

They began walking toward the castle, but as they reached the entrance, Snape stumbled out, clutching someone in his arms.

Snape's face was ashen, his expression one of pure terror.

"Dumbledore… Potter…" he stammered. "Dumbledore… he's dead!"

The crowd behind them froze in shock, the words rippling outward like a shockwave.

"He's dead!"

"Harry Potter is dead!"

"The Boy Who Lived… is dead!"

"Severus, let him go," Dumbledore said calmly.

But Snape clutched Harry's lifeless body tightly, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed, "Wake up! Look at me… please…"

Dumbledore bent down and, with strength surprising for an elderly man, helped Snape to his feet.

Dumbledore stared at Harry's body, his expression grim. The usual warmth and twinkle in his eyes were gone, replaced by cold fury.

Every line on his aged face spoke of icy wrath.

William stood silently, his head bowed.

Everything had happened so suddenly, without warning.

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