Jet Jaguar eventually dropped the comatose basilisk in a deep cavern, then took Harry to the one place he'd been avoiding for years; the Monster Island Research Facility - still under construction, but outfitted with enough equipment to be a proper research lab.
Each time an alien invasion had been thwarted, some of their technology had been recovered, and in the name of security most of it was housed on Monster Island. The general idea was that any thieves would have to risk drawing the ire of the inhabitants, a deterrent that had worked up to this point.
The Xians in particular had parted with a great deal of technology as part of reparations for their attempted conquest of Earth. They still coveted Earth's water, but since conquest had failed they were quite keen on currying favor - better to have some water and distrust than no water and war.
These thoughts flashed through Harry's mind and Jet Jaguar's artificial intelligence as they approached the researchers, who appeared to be at least mildly curious as to why the robot was bringing them a child.
Jet Jaguar signed to Harry that it was time to demonstrate some magic so that the incredible tale he needed to tell would be taken seriously, and while not all the researchers were as fluent in his sign language as Harry was, some of them could tell that the robot wanted the boy to do something.
So with a swish and a flick of his wand, Harry James Potter promptly blew several scientists' minds by levitating an empty container towards him and then turning it into a pig and back again.
With their minds opened to the possibilities, Jet Jaguar began writing his account of who Harry was, why he was here, and what needed to be done about the basilisk.
Even after seeing what Harry could do - several times and to different people to ensure that they weren't hallucinating - there was some skepticism about the basilisk's power to kill with a glance.
Still, they would humor the robot. They had some special panes of glass made from the same material that could block the Shobijin's mysterious connection to Mothra. If anything could block the basilisk's deathly stare, that would be it.
Granted, they did not have much of the material on hand. This would be nothing more than a test using a cow in front of the glass with the restrained basilisk and an intern who hadn't read the fine print of their waiver (specifically subsection G, which declared that any and all direct experimentation on Monster Island could result in an untimely demise).
Suffice it to say that the cow keeled over upon making eye contact, while the intern (though terrified) did not. So with Jet Jaguar restraining the creature, a temporary observation station was constructed to observe it. Jet Jaguar assured them that within the next 24 hours, the cavern would be its new home, despite the fact that it had already wandered off.
The basilisk, while it enjoyed the feeling of the sun on its scales, still felt the powder stinging its eyes. The boy and the castle's inhabitants were beyond its reach for now, but it could still rip, tear, and kill, especially since the golem had released it. It had wanted the cow, but that had been taken away for some reason, and so it slithered across the island, the jungle falling silent as creatures instinctively fled its presence.
Eventually it spied some webbing. Excellent. Spiders could offer no opposition to it - these acromantulas would prove to be a fine meal or at least an improvement over the countless rodents it had eaten at Hogwarts.
It continued forward, following the trail of silk until it arrived in a rocky clearing covered in spider webs. It flicked its tongue out, tasting the air to find its prey.
As it did so, it was distracted by a sudden earthquake. Rocks began tumbling down the hills surrounding the clearing, so the basilisk moved back into the jungle to observe. Surely this would flush out the spiders.
The earth moved with a violence the basilisk had never before witnessed (though that would be unsurprising given that it had lived its whole life in what amounted to a castle basement), until moments later eight extensive limbs erupted from the terrain, swiftly followed by a vast head and abdomen, eight violet eyes peering about for what had disturbed it.
The basilisk felt no fear, for its gaze was death. It would kill this creature with a single look, then rip and tear its body to fill her belly with a feast unlike any before.
And so the basilisk surged out of the treeline, her head held high as she glared at the creature known to humanity as Kumonga.
At first the spider appeared to shrink from her gaze, but then it froze. For a long moment they stared at one another and then Kumonga let out a screech the likes of which no man or animal of Monster Island had ever heard before, utterly incensed by the presence of his species' mortal enemy. He lunged forward, extensible fang piercing the air as if to alert the serpent to its fate.
For the first time in its thousand year existence the basilisk felt fear and shrank back from its enemy. Never had anything withstood the power of its gaze! What manner of monstrosity was this spider?
It fled into the jungle, hearing a hissing sound behind it, and noticing the silken strands falling all around it. It knew instinctively that to be caught by even a single thread would mean death, and so in another first it fled in terror into the jungle, towards the base of one of the mountains.
It knew not how long it fled, but eventually it emerged from the trees again, and this time it saw a reptilian creature covered in horns and spikes. In the distance, the basilisk heard Kumonga screech again.
The sound seemed to rouse the spiked creature, who also looked directly into the basilisks eyes. It too froze for a moment before bellowing a challenge at it, a challenge that the basilisk accepted. She had been forced to flee from a mere spider on this day; her pride would not tolerate a second retreat.
The beast known to the island's inhabitants as Anguirus, charged and attempted to bite her, but she moved her coils away, leaving him snapping at empty air with his neck vulnerable. She struck.
And then the unthinkable happened.
Her fangs failed to penetrate his hide.
As if realizing this, Anguirus inflicted upon the basilisk the greatest insult that can be heaped upon an enemy. He turned around, ignoring her, and went back to sleep.
She considered coiling around his neck and crushing his windpipe instead, but the sound of Kumonga approaching drove her to flee once again.
This time she eventually found a lake of calm water. She sniffed the air, cautious. Everything else on this island had been monstrous and terrible. Who knew what lurked here? But she smelled nothing but another serpent. Had she found another of her kind? She entered the water, curious and hopeful.
And then a figure began to rise. Coil upon coil and scales that dwarfed her own, this could only be the Eldest of Serpents, the Guardian of Mu.
Manda rose from the water, and fixed the basilisk with his gaze.
The basilisk harbored no illusions about her power here. All serpents instinctively knew of Manda, though few had ever seen him. He was ancient beyond measure, from a time when snakes still had limbs with which to crawl.
She curled in on herself, making herself look as small as possible, an instinctive gesture of submission before a god.
Manda sniffed the air, and then spoke, more to himself than to her, but towards her nonetheless. "So it would seem that a basilisk has come to our island home, and from the school of magic as well… I hope for your own sake that you did not attempt to attack Gojira's human hatchling. Such a thing may decide how safe you are here."
Unable to quell her curiosity (and slight trepidation), the basilisk hissed interrogatively, "Gojira?"
As if in response, the golem flew over her and pointed, and a terrible roar sounded in the distance, infinitely more terrifying than Kumonga's.
Manda listened to the roar closely, as though hearing something the basilisk could not. "It would seem that you have. Regrettable, but Kumonga attempted the same and still lives. You may yet survive this encounter…"
As Harry demonstrated more magic for Monster Island's scientists and the basilisk cowered before the King of the Monsters, Mothra rested her wings. Using her poisonous powder was a last resort that sapped her strength and weakened her wings. For this reason and the presence of children close to her, she did not attempt to create a hurricane when the firebird appeared in front of her in a burst of flame.
It sang at her and she chirped and trilled back. Their combined song was beautiful, but not harmonious, for they were arguing fiercely.
None of the humans could understand them, but from their spot beside Hagrid, Fluffy the three-headed dog and Norberta the Norwegian ridgeback could both hear and understand.
Mothra protected her people, which included Harry, and though her protection did not extend to all of humanity, that was not because she thought them unworthy. Far from it, she believed that humanity could do great things, but that they were collectively children stumbling through a difficult phase of life.
Fawkes was of a different mind. Like Mothra, Fawkes was a primordial being and he too had seen humanity to great things, far too many of them terrible. For this reason he believed that humanity needed a firm hand to guide it. He knew that humanity chafed under tyrants as often as they welcomed them, which was why he'd chosen his companion carefully. Dumbledore was a human who others looked to for guidance. He could control them without any believing him to be a tyrant. So Fawkes subtly guided and counseled him just as Dumbledore sought to guide and counsel Harry.
Here the disagreement became more vehement, the combined song more intense. Harry had a destiny to fulfill, on that both immortals agreed, but Mothra wanted him to live, and Fawkes believed that he needed to be sacrificed.
Fluffy and Norberta could not understand the precise reason the phoenix wanted such a thing. The two immortals discussed human societies in more detail than either animal could understand. All they gathered was the Fawkes was convinced Harry needed to die to save one, and Mothra decreed that such a society did not deserve to be saved.
With a final indignant squawk, Fawkes vanished in fire to return to Dumbledore. Mothra made a final soothing trill directed towards the human children and began to fly away, albeit at a slower pace than her arrival.
Several days later all over the nonmagical world newspapers carried a single phrase on their front page: "Magic is Real!"
In the articles that followed there were numerous pictures of a half-transfigured object beside Harry James Potter, newly dubbed as the feral child of Monster Island, and interviews with him, the scientists who'd tested his abilities, and even Jet Jaguar.
The articles even included interviews with the Xian ambassador, who'd explained that what humans called "magic" they preferred to call "exotic physics" and that its careful and precise use was behind much - though not all - of their superior technology.
All in all, the article had been researched well, and on that same day and night, live broadcasts were shown from Monster Island of Harry casting various spells for the benefit of skeptics and scientific instruments. Already there was a form of radar - currently being referred to under the working name "madar" - that could detect high concentrations of magic.
Harry didn't particularly care for all the attention, but it was on magic, not him. Apart from a footnote that he'd been raised among Infant Islanders on Monster Island in secret, barely anyone paid attention to him at all.
It wasn't long before the magical world heard about this though.
"Order, order!" Albus Dumbledore pounded the gavel as was his duty as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards.
It had been an arduous week for Albus. All of the aurors sent to Hogwarts had died fighting the basilisk, Harry Potter had gone missing (until this stunt), and now the muggle world knew about magic.
British Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge had been beside himself in his meeting with Dumbledore, yelling about how the muggle Prime Minister had been unbearably smug about Potter "exposing us from under our noses!" in his words, and talking about how he was looking forward to "proper cooperation" now that he'd have to work with the "legitimate government."
He'd largely tuned out Fudge's ramblings in his sheer panic. Their world had been exposed. That had never been part of any of his plans. How was he to make the boy martyr himself now?
But planning had to wait. If he didn't appear before the ICW in an emergency session, they'd sack him.
"I do not know," began one of the members, the Greek representative, "why we are allowing Dumbledore to preside over this meeting when it is apparently his student and his school's basilisk that have exposed us!"
There was another roar of agreement and outrage, and Dumbledore had to bang his gavel again. He knew he wouldn't be sacked while he was present, he was owed too many favors, but this was a bad sign. The winds of change were blowing, and currently not in his favor.
"While you are regrettably correct on both counts, I must remind you all that it was young Mr. Potter's idea to go to the muggle media. I have not, nor have I ever, said or taught that the Statute of Secrecy should be broken."
There was a murmur of agreement, and the beginnings of a plan formed in Dumbledore's mind. If he did this right, he could catch two snitches with one hand as it were.
"And so it is with a heavy heart that for breaking our most sacred of laws, I must make a motion not as the Supreme Mugwump, but as the representative of Magical Britain. I move that Harry James Potter be found guilty of treason and sentenced to life in Azkaban Prison."
The approval was unanimous and Dumbledore suppressed a smile. Cramming eleven years of trauma into a short time was definitely something the dementors could do. All it would take was his word that there was a prophecy that Harry could defeat Tom, and the boy would emerge from Azkaban broken into the docile personality Albus meant for him to have all along. Then he'd practically beg to martyr himself rather than return to Azkaban.
Author's Note: Remember how I said at the end of last chapter that canon has no meaning anymore? Well here's the proof. And it gets better/worse in the next chapter!