Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The bottom of the staircase opened into a vast, echoing cavern that stank of mildew and ancient, undisturbed damp. The light from their wands barely penetrated the oppressive gloom, casting grotesque, elongated shadows across the uneven stone floor.

Amelia Bones stopped abruptly, holding up a hand. The entire procession halted instantly, the discipline of the Ministry professionals evident in their synchronized stillness.

”Right,” Amelia commanded, her voice dropping to a harsh, carrying whisper. ”This is the staging area. Hit Wizards, fan out. Secure the flanks. Curse Breakers, sweep the perimeter for residual traps. Creature Handlers, prepare the cages. When we breach the main chamber, you release the roosters on my mark. Not a second before.”

She turned her monocled gaze to the teachers. ”Albus, Minerva, Severus. You stay close to the students. If we engage the target, your primary objective is their immediate evacuation. Kingsley, take point with me.”

Kingsley Shacklebolt nodded grimly, stepping forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his superior.

Orion watched the tactical deployment with approval. This was how you handled a Class XXXXX threat—with overwhelming force and clear lines of responsibility.

They moved forward slowly, their boots crunching on something that sounded suspiciously like small bones. The tunnel curved, widening into a larger space.

The lead Hit Wizard raised his wand higher. ”Madam Bones. Contact.”

The group moved forward, and the wand-light illuminated a sight that made even the seasoned Aurors pause. Coiled in the center of the damp floor, stretching for what looked like twenty feet, was a massive, translucent, shimmering husk.

”Merlin’s beard,” Kingsley breathed, staring at the discarded skin of the Basilisk. ”We have a Basilisk here.”

It was a physical, terrifying confirmation of the myth. The skin was thick, leathery, and detailed enough to show the exact size and scale of the creature that had shed it. It was a beast of nightmare proportions.

Snape stepped forward, his black eyes glinting in the wand-light as he examined the shed skin with a sudden, intense focus.

”The purity of this specimen,” Snape murmured, almost to himself, his fingers hovering inches from the translucent scales. ”The venom sacs alone would be priceless. The skin itself is virtually impervious to standard hexes. A brewer’s fortune lies here.”

McGonagall shot him a look of profound, horrified disgust. ”Severus! For heaven’s sake! We are standing in the antechamber of a monster that has been hunting our students, and you are appraising it for potion ingredients?”

”Practicality, Minerva,” Snape replied smoothly, not taking his eyes off the prize. ”One must always look for the silver lining in a disaster.”

”Focus, people,” Amelia snapped, breaking the tension. They move forward. She gestured toward a solid wall of stone at the far end of the cavern, adorned with two intertwined serpents carved into the rock, their eyes set with dull, green emeralds. ”Mr. Potter. We need the key.”

Harry, looking pale but determined, stepped forward. Dumbledore remained close by, his hand resting reassuringly on the boy’s shoulder. Harry stared at the carved serpents, screwing his eyes shut for a moment to summon the image of a living snake.

”Open,” Harry hissed, the sibilant sound echoing strangely in the damp cavern.

The stone serpents seemed to writhe. With a deep, grinding groan that shook dust from the ceiling, the solid wall split down the middle, the two halves sliding smoothly apart to reveal the true horror beyond.

The Chamber of Secrets.

”Hit Wizards, deploy fog,” Amelia ordered instantly.

Six of the Hit Wizards stepped through the opening simultaneously. They raised their wands, moving in a synchronized pattern.

”Nebulus Maxima!”

Thick, swirling, impenetrable grey fog erupted from their wands, instantly filling the vast chamber ahead. It rolled across the floor in heavy waves, obscuring the ground and rising to head height within seconds.

”The fog is a necessary precaution,” Dumbledore explained softly to Harry and Orion as they prepared to enter. ”It drastically reduces visibility for both us and the beast. It minimizes the risk of accidental, lethal eye contact. In a battle against a Basilisk, blindness is your greatest shield.”

”Or a very convenient way to get eaten from behind,” Orion noted dryly, adjusting his grip on his Hawthorn wand.

They stepped through the stone doorway and into the fog.

The chamber was massive, echoing, and eerily quiet. The wand-lights struggled to pierce the dense grey mist, revealing only the bases of towering, snake-entwined stone pillars that disappeared into the darkness high above.

They moved forward slowly, the only sound the dripping of water and their own muffled footsteps. The fog clung to them, cold and clammy.

Eventually, the mist thinned slightly near the far end of the chamber, revealing a colossal, towering statue. It was a face—ancient, monkey-like, and impossibly arrogant—carved directly into the back wall. The face of Salazar Slytherin.

”Hold position,” Amelia commanded softly.

The Hit Wizards halted, forming a defensive perimeter around the group. The Curse Breakers swept the immediate area with glowing charms, finding nothing but cold stone.

”No visual on the target,” Kingsley reported, his deep voice barely a whisper. ”The chamber appears empty. Should we spread out and initiate a grid search?”

”Negative,” Amelia shook her head decisively. ”Spreading out in zero visibility against an apex predator is suicide. We consolidate our forces. We do not hunt the beast; we make the beast come to us.”

She turned to the Creature Handlers, who were holding the cages tightly, the roosters inside clucking nervously in the sudden quiet.

”We use the bait,” Amelia instructed. ”Deploy the roosters directly in front of the statue. Hit Wizards, take up firing positions behind the pillars. Form a kill box. Albus, Minerva, Severus—secure the boys behind the rear columns. When the beast shows itself, we hit it with everything we have.”

The professionals moved with lethal efficiency. The Handlers hurried forward, placing the cages near the base of the massive statue, removing the silencing charms, before retreating quickly behind the stone pillars. The Hit Wizards fanned out, their wands glowing fiercely through the fog.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape ushered Harry and Orion behind a particularly thick column near the center of the room.

”Stay here. Do not look directly at anything that moves,” Dumbledore warned them, his eyes sharp.

Orion leaned against the cold stone of the pillar, his heart rate finally beginning to climb. He checked his Astrum Navigator, the glow muted by the fog. The trap was set. The Ministry was competent at this.

But the silence stretched on. Save for the clucking and occasional crowing of the roosters.

Then, a sound cut through the damp air.

It wasn’t a hiss. It was a word.

”...blood... food...”

The voice was cold, sibilant, and dripped with ancient, venomous hunger. It vibrated through the stone floor, echoing from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Orion stiffened. The All-Speak translated the terror perfectly.

The massive stone face of Salazar Slytherin began to move. The jaw of the statue groaned, sliding downward to reveal a gaping, pitch-black hole in the wall.

”Contact!” Kingsley roared.

Before anything could emerge from the dark tunnel, Dumbledore moved. He would not stand behind in such scenario. He stepped out from behind the pillar, his Elder Wand raised high.

”Obscuro Maxima!” Dumbledore bellowed, his voice ringing with power.

A jet of concentrated magic shot from his wand, striking the opening of the statue’s mouth. The fog in the immediate area thickened exponentially, turning from a hazy grey into a solid, impenetrable wall of swirling white mist directly in front of the tunnel entrance.

A massive, scaled shape surged out of the dark hole and hit the wall of fog.

It was immense. Coils of thick, armor-plated green scales as wide as an oak trunk thrashed blindly in the mist. The sheer size of the creature was staggering, its movements displacing the air with explosive force.

But it didn’t attack. It didn’t strike.

It roared—a deafening, horrifying hiss of agony.

The beast thrashed wildly, its massive body slamming against the stone pillars, causing the very foundations of the chamber to shudder. It seemed to be in terrible pain, snapping blindly at the air. Probably due to the crowing of the roosters.

And then, a streak of brilliant crimson and gold tore through the gloom of the chamber.

Fawkes the Phoenix flamed high in air and shrieked a battle cry that resonated with pure, cleansing fire. He dove straight into the thickest part of the fog, aiming directly for the thrashing head of the beast.

The fog roiled violently, illuminated by flashes of golden light and the terrifying, frantic snaps of massive jaws. The sounds of a titanic struggle echoed through the chamber—the shriek of the phoenix, the agonizing hiss of the serpent, the heavy, wet thuds of scales hitting stone.

Orion peeked, his breath caught in his throat.

Ten agonizing seconds passed.

With a final, triumphant trill, Fawkes burst out of the fog, banking sharply and flying upward, hovering near the ceiling.

The dense mist Dumbledore had conjured began to dissipate rapidly, shredding under the force of the Basilisk’s frantic thrashing.

The fog cleared enough for Orion to finally lay eyes on the monster.

It was a nightmare made flesh. The Basilisk was at least sixty feet long, its scales a vibrant, venomous green, glinting in the wand-light. It was rearing up, its massive head weaving erratically.

But its greatest weapon was gone.

Where its lethal, yellow eyes should have been, there were only two ruined, bloody sockets. Fawkes had struck true. The beast was completely, permanently blind.

The Basilisk hissed in agony and fury, tasting the air with a flickering, forked tongue the size of a sword. It sensed movement. It sensed life.

It lunged blindly toward the base of the statue, its massive jaws unhinging to reveal fangs as long as Orion’s arm, dripping with dark, sizzling venom.

It struck one of the metal cages.

CRUNCH.

The iron crumpled like tin foil. The roosters inside didn’t even have time to squawk before it was instantly, brutally crushed.

The beast swallowed, turning its blind, bloody face toward the rest of the room, tasting the air for more prey.

”Target is blind! Engage!” Amelia Bones roared.

The Chamber of Secrets erupted in a blinding barrage of spellfire.