Sherlock felt as if all his internal organs had been displaced by the impact.
He coughed violently a few times, tasting blood, but at that moment, he finally had time to continue waving his wand and casting a Shield Charm on himself.
"Cough, cough, cough, I was careless."
The Basilisk was utterly annoyed by Fawkes's persistence; the Phoenix had not only pecked out the Basilisk's eyes but was constantly trying to attack its head.
This made the Basilisk, deprived of both hearing and sight, increasingly frenzied!
The entire common room was shaking violently. Sherlock staggered over to the corner where Harry and Ron were huddled. He cast a Shield Charm on the two boys, who were currently wearing the Sorting Hat and investigating what secrets it held, to prevent them from being caught in the attack.
"Please, Professor, seriously, you can express pessimistic thoughts, but whatever you do, don't say things like 'We're safe this time' or 'We're definitely winning this time'!"
Ron watched Sherlock merely spit out a couple of mouthfuls of blood, seemingly otherwise fine, and breathed a sigh of relief while simultaneously pleading with him.
Sherlock dismissed his words with contempt.
"We study magic! How can you believe in such intangible nonsense!"
However, no sooner had he finished speaking than Fawkes, who was grappling with the Basilisk, deftly dodged one of its attacks. But the Basilisk's momentum didn't slow; it opened its massive, blood-stained mouth and lunged straight toward Sherlock!
Its venomous fangs struck the Shield Charm solidly!
The blue light shield rippled violently!
Sherlock hardened his resolve. His spells had little effect on the Basilisk's exterior, but the inside was a different story!
Therefore, instead of quickly pulling out the arm that was being bitten, he shoved his wand directly into its mouth.
"Reducto!"
A massive, blazing flash of fire erupted from the Basilisk's mouth!
The deafening explosion caused Harry and Ron to instinctively cover their ears, and it also made Neville, who was lying on the sofa, open his eyes in confusion.
But at that moment, Sherlock had no energy left to worry about anything else. The powerful Blasting Spell had severely wounded the Basilisk, blowing a large hole in its lower jaw that continuously oozed black blood.
Simultaneously, the unbearable pain caused the Basilisk to clamp its jaws shut with all its strength!
"Bang!"
A crisp sound, like shattering glass, rang out, and the Shield Charm covering Sherlock fragmented into countless blue sparks!
The next moment, the sharp, venomous fang pierced his arm!
The pain, which nearly made him pass out, twisted Sherlock's entire face into a grimace!
The Basilisk was also writhing in immense pain, its body coiling like a rope before suddenly tensing up. It shook its head, pulling its fang out of Sherlock's shoulder, and continued convulsing in the common room.
Black blood sprayed everywhere, and Sherlock was now covered in blood.
His mouth was full of the taste of blood, making it impossible for him to distinguish whether it was his own or the Basilisk's.
Harry, still wearing the Sorting Hat, ran over to Sherlock with Ron, and Neville, who had just woken up, walked over tearfully.
"Professor," Harry cried tearfully, "at a time like this, please say something depressing! Just say you feel like you're going to die, and that you definitely won't be able to lead us out of here alive this time!"
Sherlock felt his entire right shoulder go completely numb. There wasn't a spot on his body that didn't ache, and the Basilisk's venom was clearly taking effect inside him.
But even now, he had the presence of mind to roll his eyes at Harry.
"Pah! You... you want me to curse myself to death! Although it's possible we might crash and burn here, I can't lose face."
Harry and Ron immediately burst out laughing through their tears, saying happily,
"Exactly, Professor, you're going to crash and burn here today, and we're all going to die here!"
Neville stared at them, even forgetting to cry, his gaze suggesting he was looking at two lunatics!
Sherlock's gaze turned toward Tom, who was smiling nearby.
Tom leisurely walked over to them, holding a wand—Neville's wand.
"You are going to die, Professor Cavendish."
Fawkes, who had been circling in the common room, landed on Sherlock's shoulder.
Fawkes seemed to be crying; tears flowed from its eyes and fell onto the wound on Sherlock's arm.
Tom sneered.
"Even Dumbledore's bird knows you're going to die. Once you're dead, how will you protect your students? Or rather, what means will Dumbledore have left to protect his students?"
Sherlock ignored Tom's mockery. His body was exhausted, but his spirit was extremely uplifted.
Anyone with common sense in the Wizarding World understood the effects of Phoenix tears.
He didn't believe Tom was ignorant of this; the excitement of achieving success had simply consumed his thoughts, making him overlook the implications for a moment.
"It's all my fault, Professor... I should have just handed it over to the school at the start..." Neville blamed himself tearfully.
"Cough, cough, cough, no... Neville." Sherlock coughed up a pool of blood. "You were very brave... At least you were brave enough to resist him... That's enough."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk..." Tom looked at them with disgust. "What a touching drama! But it makes me sick!"
He had already noticed Sherlock's completely healed wound. He waved Neville's wand and pointed it at Fawkes.
With a sound like a "pop," Fawkes was hit by something, turning into a whirlwind of gold and red, and flew away.
He continued waving the wand, and Harry, Ron, and Neville were bound in place, completely unable to resist.
The current Tom was not some illusory spirit; he seemed to possess the same power as a Wizard and could use spells.
In the centre of the common room, the Basilisk was still thrashing violently. It coiled up in a corner, repeatedly slamming its head against the adjacent wall.
Sherlock gasped for breath, looking at Tom. Suddenly, a bright flash crossed his mind, as if he had realised something!
He narrowed his eyes and asked,
"You are more than just a memory of Lord Voldemort!"
Tom wore an amused smile on his face. He was certain of his victory and didn't mind playing with Sherlock a little longer.
"You figured it out? Fine, I admit I lied just now. A mere memory certainly wouldn't possess power like mine."
His voice rose dramatically.
"I am a magnificent masterpiece of my former self! A most treasured creation! An art worthy of eternity!"