The Basilisk has served many, more than, perhaps, any soldier, any traitor, or even any mercenary. In fact, it has served all of these kinds of witches and wizards too. Over the thousands of years in its life, the faces of those that ruled over it blur into an indistinct haze. Only two are men great enough to stand out. The first wizard who ever commanded it, and the last.
The first was a brilliant wizard, known to be one of the best in his age. He was also the one to create the basilisk, for he had a single goal. An aim to rid the wizarding world of those who were impure, unworthy to live in it, and the Basilisk had learned that its purpose for existence coincided with its master's aim. Slytherin, it found, was a cruel, ambitious man, and this pushed away everyone, even the woman he had loved, and left him alone. Well, almost, for despite his harshness, he was always kind to the Basilisk. He treated it almost like one would their child. After all, he was the one who had made it a home, hidden in the shadows, accessible only to himself and those who were worthy, almost making it forget that ot was, in effect, a prison. And whenever he ordered his beast to kill, it was never in fury directed at it. The Basilisk came to croon at the soft, calm parseltongue of its master, that it would inevitably hear each time before it left the Chamber to obey him.
And then, followed a slew of men and women, each capable in their own right, each with a single aim that often was far too different from their ancestor's, and wavered in times of danger or disaster. They were not a fraction of the great old wizard himself. Yet, such was the power of the blood running through their veins, that it was forced to obey even those that were fickle of mind. The Basilisk did not resent it, however, for it is through these wizards that it found that the world above had changed, like itself, moulting old scales and growing another, newer and stronger
The Chamber had closed for centuries, at the end of this long line. Perhaps, the heirs had forgotten their precious secret, forgotten, how to open the door.
Then, someone remembered, or perhaps, relearnt. With this came the last master the Basilisk would ever know. A proud, proud man, almost a boy, with a mind far too brilliant for his age. He was arrogant, obsessed with being special, believing he was the first since the creator of the Chamber, to enter its depths. It was not the monster's place to correct him, however, so it did what it was created to do. It obeyed quietly, slithering through the school, petrifying those that did not deserve the magic they learned. When the boy, the heir, spoke to it, his voice was soft, almost like Slytherin himself, but even the snake saw the coldness in his eyes that set him apart.
The boy was clever, too clever, perhaps, and the Chamber was to close again for his cleverness. But when it opened again, decades later, it was he, or a memory of him, who did it.
But for once, the clever youth made a mistake. The girl was too fragile, her savior too strong, and the Sword of Gryffindor too sharp. The creature itself, too was at fault. It was too slow, and the blade sliced it into two pieces.
The Basilisk has served many masters. It has failed only one.
Notes: For Jenny! I hope you like it, sister. (via the Singing a Song Along Challenge at The Golden Snitch)
Prompt: Basilisk
Also for the Through The Universe Challenge. Prompt: Hidden in the shadows