With the combined efforts of Mayumi tossing chickens absolutely everywhere, Harry's horrible swordsmanship, Fawkes crying, a conveniently broken fang and the basilisk's severe chicken-phobia— appearantly transfigued chickens don't work they just scares it and the mutated part doesn't help at all— the king of serpents was slain, Tom Riddle was no more, and Harry floped onto the ground.
Mayumi, with a grumpy look on her face, trotted over to the basilisk and began pulling at it's scales.
"Mayumi, what the ever loving fuck are you doing?"
She grunts.
"Making money."