I grappled both the top and bottom of her mouth, digging my nails into her gums as I held them apart. The basilisk hissed with hatred, tightening her jaw to crush me. I grunted, my arms shaking as we locked in a deadly stalemate. Tom clapped slowly at my attempt.
"A slight transformation... a half-werewolf, I dare say. A true pity of your demise, but perhaps I can replicate the results with a more loyal dog." He chuckled as I growled in rage, caught between the jaws of death.
Holding the basilisk's mouth open with nothing but my hands, my feet slid back on the wet stone beneath me. I faltered for just a moment. The fangs inched closer to my body as I groaned under the strain. My mind spun from the pain and the sudden realization of my cursed blood. I had no time for either. Trying to think of an escape as the Vitamix's power dwindled—and Hermione's defenseless body lay just behind me—was impossible under the pressure. Strength began to leave me, and I slowly started to resign myself to fate.
Hermione stared at Lucas. Still bound by the body-binding charm, there wasn't much she could do. But she refused to accept that. Watching Lucas fight tooth and nail to protect her—even jumping into the jaws of a monster—while she just laid there, was unbearable. She screamed inside her mind, begging her body to move.
A strange chirping and ringing suddenly caught her attention. She forced her head toward the sound and saw Lucas' pet snake staring straight at her. His vibrant blue eyes reminded her of the deep ocean, but it was his gaze that drew hers to something else—the Sorting Hat. The same one Dumbledore had given Lucas a week or two ago.
She had speculated about why Dumbledore gave it to him—maybe to keep tabs on him—but now, a jeweled silver handle glinting inside the hat proved otherwise.
The black snake chirped again, dragging her hand toward the blade with its tail, pleading for her to act. Hermione groaned in pain as she tried to move under the curse's hold. But hearing Lucas panting through gritted teeth pushed her forward. Gritting her own, she opened her trembling hand and grabbed the handle, pulling the weapon from its magical sheath.
There was no time to admire it. Using the sword as a crutch, she pulled herself upright, her body screaming in agony. Her muscles tore, bones creaked, and her entire being was on fire. She howled from the pain, but summoned enough strength to raise the sword. With a final scream, she drove it up through the basilisk's mouth, the blade piercing clean through the brain. The creature died instantly.
I stared in shock as the gleam of silver passed before me, finishing off the beast I had nearly fallen to. Hermione stood there—gasping, flushed, and dripping with sweat. Her legs gave out just after the killing blow.
"Ah—wait!" I shouted, my voice deeper, full of gravel, as I caught her in my arms. The sword clattered to the ground beside us.
Her pained expression faded, replaced by horror as I felt something warm and sticky. I looked down. My hands were stained in crimson.
After everything I'd said, she still stood by my side. She helped me. And now, at the cost of her own life. Basilisk venom—fatal, with no cure.
"No… Hermione…" I muttered, a new reverence in my voice.
Hermione blinked, the venom's numbing effect finally dulling the pain she had felt forcing her body through the curse. She looked at my blood-stained hands, her eyes wide.
"She died anyway... You only killed your friend by not giving me that mudblood," Tom sneered. "In the end, you have nothing to show for your traitorous actions."
His cold laughter over Hermione's dying body ignited something inside me. My breath came jagged and uneven. I glared at Tom, unaware that my green eyes had started to shift toward yellow. I wanted him dead. After everything he'd done—making a joke of death, stealing the life of someone precious—there was no forgiveness.
I grabbed the sword from the ground and walked toward the diary.
"What are you doing?" Tom asked, his voice uncertain for the first time.
I scoffed, the metal scraping along the floor with each deliberate step. "What? Shouldn't your diary be stronger than basilisk scales? Isn't it fun to test others' limits?" My eyes bored into him. "Then see your own."
"Stop! Stop this now!" he shouted, but I had already raised the sword.
I drove the blade through the diary. Black ink spurted out like blood. Tom screamed in agony, his form erupting in light, his body disintegrating in burning brilliance. I twisted the sword, speeding his destruction.
When the ink stopped flowing, and the diary lay still, I dropped to my knees beside Hermione. Her face was red, her breathing shallow, her skin burning hot. She looked up at me and moved her lips, but her lungs were too weak to form words.
"What... what have I done…?" Pansy muttered as she stumbled forward. She dropped to her knees, covering her mouth, eyes wide with horror. "This... this is a dream, right? A nightmare?"
I didn't answer. I only stared at Hermione as Val slithered over her, his hissing cries piercing through the silence.
"Don't die! Val is sorry for being mean! You are good! So please, don't die!"
Hermione's eyes closed. In that moment, I saw the unicorn's death flash before my eyes. Clutching my chest, I remembered the vial of blood.
"Blood… I have the blood!" I shouted, tearing at the necklace around my neck, yanking free the vial containing the silvery substance.
I uncorked it—but froze, the vial held above Hermione's mouth.
"What!? What's wrong!?" Pansy shouted, still dazed.
"Many wizards beg for death before the curse of lycanthropy consumes them," I said, my brow furrowed. "I could save her... but it would mean cursing her. For life. Do I have that right?"
"Can I force her to live a cursed life? Is that what she would want?" I asked aloud, her expression twisting with pain.
Pansy stayed silent, but Val hissed desperately. "Why would she hate living with curses!? You are cursed, and you are the best in the world!"
That broke me.
I took a small sip of the unicorn's blood—just a few drops, enough to curse me forever. It burned down my throat, sweet and cold at once. I shuddered, ignoring the feeling.
"What are—!?" Pansy began, but I had already pressed the vial to Hermione's lips.
She drank instinctively. I whispered, "Maybe… if I'm cursed worse than her, she won't hate me for forcing her to live…"
The blood slid down her throat. I watched as the wound on her arm began to close, steam rising as the venom was neutralized.
I sighed, the weight finally leaving me. A relieved smile crossed my face. I whispered goodbye to the last reminder of the unicorn I failed to save—just as everything around me faded to black.