Harry Potter: The Wandmaker

Harold was starting to regret everything. He never should have told Fluffy that Hagrid was in danger—or rather, he never should have said it while standing next to Fluffy.

Because the moment the three-headed dog caught Hagrid's scent, it panicked and took off running.

That would've been fine. Harold had intended for Fluffy to help Hagrid anyway. What he hadn't expected was that Fluffy would take him along for the ride.

He didn't even have time to react—he was scooped up and tossed onto the dog's back in one violent motion.

Then Fluffy began its rampage. With nothing else to hold onto, Harold buried his face in the dog's coarse fur and clung on for dear life.

Would he soon be face-to-face with a basilisk? Possibly. But Harold didn't have the mental bandwidth to worry about that right now.

Not when he was twenty feet off the ground on a careening hellhound. Falling off would probably be just as lethal as a basilisk stare.

Wind howled past his ears, making it hard to keep his eyes open.

Soon, he began to hear other sounds—Hagrid's shouts, and Riddle's furious curses.

Strangely, Riddle sounded different now—less composed, more wild. He was unraveling, like that time Harold had encountered Voldemort's weakened soul fragment back in first year. Back then, a piece had been torn off by the unicorn, and it had shrieked like a banshee.

Besides Hagrid and the basilisk, Harold also picked up on another voice—Professor Flitwick. He must've just cast a spell.

"Stupefy Maxima!"

The basilisk let out a pained screech.

It was a Blinding Hex!

Harold cracked open one eye—he'd already summoned the unicorn, just in case—and through its translucent blue form, he saw the basilisk writhing in agony. Oddly enough, the screams coming from its mouth weren't hisses, but distinctly Riddle's voice.

Fluffy didn't care about any of that. The beast had seen the snake trying to bite Hagrid—Hagrid had barely held its jaws apart—and it wasn't having any of it.

All three heads came to the same conclusion: it was bullying Hagrid.

Fluffy was enraged. It lunged forward, all three mouths wide, and bit down on the basilisk's midsection.

Crunch.

Harold heard three sharp cracks as the legendary basilisk scales crumbled like biscuits between Fluffy's jaws.

The basilisk screamed. Dark blood sprayed from the wounds, scorching the grass it touched, withering it into blackened clumps.

Luckily, Harold reacted quickly, snatching his hat and transforming it into a makeshift umbrella. The blood splattered across it, instantly burning holes through the fabric.

The hat was ruined—but at least he wasn't.

"I know that smell, Harold Ollivander!" the basilisk roared, its blinded eyes scanning wildly. "I can smell you!"

Its eyes, now milky and veiled, had no effect. Harold tested his hand, no sign of petrification.

Flitwick's spell had worked.

"What even are you…" Harold called out. "Should I call you a basilisk? Or Tom Riddle?"

"I am… Voldemort!" came Riddle's snarled response.

"Of course it's you," Harold muttered. "Never thought I'd see the day you turned yourself into that."

Back in the Entrance Hall, Harold had suspected as much. The way the basilisk moved, the way it behaved—he'd known it wasn't just a monster. It was Riddle.

Harold had wondered why Riddle would return to Hogwarts. He'd already lost three-quarters of his soul and had been separated from his diary Horcrux. Why come back?

Turns out, he wanted the basilisk's body.

And it made sense, in a twisted way. Basilisks were artificially created dark creatures. Their own souls were fragile, making them perfect vessels for a parasitic fragment like Riddle.

But still… why?

After losing the diary, Riddle had essentially become a standalone fragment. If he'd waited and found another soul piece—another half-dead phantom—he could've built a second Voldemort.

Two Voldemorts would've been a nightmare to deal with.

Instead, he jumped into a basilisk's body. Which meant… he'd made himself into another Horcrux.

Or worse. A Horcrux couldn't be killed with a bite—but this one?

This one was getting chewed to pieces.

"Shut up!" the basilisk shrieked. "This is Slytherin's greatest creation! His ultimate weapon!"

It tried to lunge at Harold, but it couldn't—the three-headed dog had it pinned.

Furious, the basilisk twisted and turned, only for one of Fluffy's heads to bite harder, exposing raw bone beneath the broken scales.

Realizing Harold was out of reach, the creature changed targets. It whipped around and sank its fangs into Fluffy's leftmost head.

The venom worked quickly. Fluffy flinched, its body tensing, and it lost grip.

The basilisk twisted free and surged at Harold, blind with rage. "Kill you… KILL YOU!"

WHAM!

Hagrid swung his club like a meteor and knocked a tooth clean out.

When the basilisk had bitten Fluffy, Hagrid had hit a new level of rage. Now he tackled the serpent's head and started slamming it into the ground.

Fluffy, shaking off the venom, clambered back up and began tearing into the basilisk once more.

The fight was so intense, Harold lost his balance and tumbled off Fluffy's back.

Luckily, Professor Flitwick waved his wand and gently levitated him to the ground.

Rather than jump in, Flitwick held back. He must've realized he wasn't needed anymore.

The basilisk alone might've been a challenge. But facing Hagrid and a furious three-headed dog?

It didn't stand a chance.

Hagrid pounded away, then grabbed the basilisk's jaws and pulled. The monster thrashed, but Fluffy kept biting, tearing at its flesh.

Snap.

Its mouth widened unnaturally, and it shrieked in agony—no longer clear if it was beast or man.

"Oof, that's a bit brutal," Flitwick muttered, stroking his chin—but his wand stayed aimed at the basilisk's eyes, ready to recast the Blinding Hex if needed.

Nearby, Professor Sprout stood down, recalling her vines and creatures back into the soil. No further help was needed.

Snap.

Hagrid kept pulling, trying to break the jaw.

But Fluffy was faster.

With one final crunch, it bit through the basilisk's heart.

THUD.

The creature collapsed, unmoving.

"Is it dead?" Flitwick asked.

"No idea," Harold replied, walking forward.

"Oh no, come back, Mr. Ollivander!" Sprout yelped, reaching to stop him.

But just then, a soft melody filled the air.

Ethereal and haunting, the music seemed to radiate peace and strength.

Then a flash of red.

A majestic phoenix swooped down from the sky—peacock-sized, with a shimmering golden tail.

It landed on Fluffy's injured head.

The dog, previously twitching with rage, calmed almost instantly. It nuzzled the phoenix, then lay down and drifted into sleep.

The bird then flew to Hagrid, inspecting him before perching on his burned hand.

"You hurt?" Harold asked.

"Maybe. Bit o' that snake's blood," Hagrid muttered, examining the sizzling patch of skin. "But I feel fine. Reckon a rinse'll fix it."

The phoenix bowed, a tear falling from its eye onto Hagrid's hand. The smoke vanished, the wound healed.

Phoenix tears.

Harold relaxed at last.

While the professors focused on the phoenix, he quietly stepped toward the basilisk.

Whether the beast was dead didn't matter—he needed to know if Riddle was.

In the moonlight, he saw it: a faint mist, like smoke, rising from the corpse.

Barely visible.

That was enough.

Harold reached out. The Horcrux Codex floated over, obscuring his wrist as he activated it.

Seconds passed.

The mist faded.

And on the book's previously cracked blank pages, black ink began to flow again—the pages were repairing themselves.

(End of Chapter)