Harry Wayne and the Batman of Hogwarts:
Chapter 26: The Basilisk
The castle was unusually quiet that evening. The wind howled against the stone walls of Hogwarts, rattling the windows in their panes, yet the corridors remained still—too still. Harry had just left, leaving the room in a thick silence that seemed to close in around Harvey like a vice. His friends—his remaining friends—had made their best attempts to reach him, but even they seemed to have run out of words. Hermione's gentle attempts to comfort him had turned into silent sympathy, and Harry, always the steadfast protector, had nothing more to say, not for the first time.
Harvey sat alone now in the darkness, the weight of the silence pressing down on him like a physical force. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the room, stretching them out as if they were reaching for him, trying to pull him deeper into the solitude. His thoughts churned in a whirlpool of confusion and anger, bitterness and regret. The silence around him was thick, oppressive, as though it were a reflection of the turmoil inside him, a storm of emotions that refused to be calmed.
The events of the past few weeks played over and over in his mind. The explosion that had altered everything. Denton—his twin, his mirror—had taken over his body, his thoughts, his actions. For months, Harvey had struggled to keep his own identity intact, but it was getting harder and harder to tell where he ended and Denton began.
His reflection in the window seemed like a foreign thing—half him, half Denton, two identities merged in a way no one had ever anticipated. One side of his face remained unmarred, unchanged, yet the other was grotesque, disfigured by burns, twisted beyond recognition by the explosion that had altered their fates forever. He had once believed that his physical scars were the only things separating him from Denton. That somehow, if he could just maintain control, if he could keep the fire of his own will alive, he could hold the monster inside at bay. But that illusion had shattered. Now, every time he looked into a mirror, he saw not one person, but two: Harvey, the man he used to be, and Denton, the creature he was becoming. The faces had merged, and with it, his sense of self had blurred.
The Galleon still rested in his hand, its weight a constant reminder of what had been lost and what had been gained. It felt like a symbol, one he no longer understood. It had been Denton's, but now, it was his. The golden coin gleamed dully in the candlelight, its edges worn from years of handling, but it felt like a betrayal—like a ghost that refused to leave him alone. Harvey had always prided himself on being able to make choices, to control his destiny. He wasn't like Denton, who had embraced the darker, more cynical aspects of life. Harvey had made mistakes, certainly, but they had never been as damning as Denton's. At least, that's what he used to believe.
Now, though, he didn't know who he was anymore. The path ahead was a blur, and each step he took felt like one more fall into the abyss.
The door creaked open with a suddenness that broke the silence, and for a moment, Harvey thought Hermione had come back. He could hear her soft steps, the sound of her approaching with caution, always so careful with him. But when he turned, he saw no familiar face. Instead, a figure stood in the doorway, his silhouette sharp and unsettling in the low light.
"Good evening, Harvey," a voice said, smooth and full of mockery. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."
Harvey's heart skipped, his chest tightening as recognition crept into his mind. He hadn't heard that voice in a long time, and the familiarity of it was enough to send a shiver crawling down his spine. The figure in the doorway was taller than most, the outline of his figure unmistakable. The green suit, the question mark that adorned his chest like a badge of honor, and that grin—almost too wide to be human. Harvey's stomach twisted.
The Riddler.
"What… what do you want?" Harvey's voice cracked, the words unfamiliar on his tongue. His throat felt tight, as though he was speaking to a ghost—a shadow from his past that should have remained buried.
Nygma—Tom Nygma, Harvey realized—stepped further into the room, his eyes gleaming with something that was equal parts intelligence and madness. He had never known Nygma to be anything less than a force of nature, and now that same force seemed to radiate from every movement, every word. He was a man driven by purpose, but that purpose was twisted, like a knot made of lies and madness.
"I know you've been struggling, Harvey," Nygma purred, his voice soothing, almost like a siren's call. "The burden of two souls, of two destinies. It must be difficult, trying to reconcile who you are and who you were meant to be."
Harvey didn't speak. His mind raced with confusion, fury rising inside him like a firestorm. He didn't want to engage with Nygma. Not now. He had no patience for games, especially not now. Not when his whole world was crumbling. Yet, there was something about the way Nygma spoke—something that drew him in, despite his better judgment. The calm, rational tone in the face of chaos, the way he always seemed to know exactly what strings to pull. It was impossible to ignore him.
Nygma took a step closer, his footsteps soft on the stone floor. The air around him grew colder, charged with an unnatural energy. He exuded power, a kind of dark charisma that made the room feel smaller, more suffocating. "I've been watching you, Harvey. I've seen the pain in your eyes, the confusion in your every movement. You're torn between two lives, and that's not something that can be fixed by mere words or magic. It's deeper than that. You need a solution, don't you? Something to free you from this… torment."
Harvey's breath hitched, his thoughts spinning. He was unsure whether to stand his ground or run. Part of him wanted to refuse—wanted to tell Nygma that he didn't need him, that he didn't need any of this. But the words caught in his throat, buried under the weight of his desperation. He couldn't deny the truth in Nygma's words. He was lost.
The Riddler didn't wait for Harvey to respond. He leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving Harvey's face. "You're not the first person to struggle with duality, Harvey. And you won't be the last. But I have the answer, if you're willing to listen. I can help you. I can remove Denton from your life—permanently."
Harvey's pulse quickened, a knot of fear and disbelief tightening in his chest. He hadn't thought about separating himself from Denton—at least, not in any real way. He had tried so many times to push Denton out of his mind, to fight the darker impulses that now seemed to overtake him. But what Nygma was suggesting… it was more than Harvey had ever dared to hope for. It was the escape he longed for, a way to separate himself from the madness that had begun to consume him.
Harvey stood up abruptly, his heart pounding in his chest. "What do you mean? How could you possibly—"
Nygma raised a hand, cutting him off with a smooth gesture. "It's simple," he said, his voice low and hypnotic. "You see, Harvey, what you need is a key—a catalyst. Something powerful enough to break the bond between you and Denton, something that can untangle the souls within you."
Harvey's mind raced, his stomach twisting as the truth settled in. "A catalyst… blood," he whispered, his voice thick with disbelief. "You want me to bring you someone's blood?"
Nygma's smile widened, cruel and calculating. "Yes. The blood of someone close to you. It will serve as the key to unlock the separation, to restore your identity. Denton's soul will be removed from you, and you will be free to be Harvey again. No more confusion. No more guilt."
The words hung in the air like a spell, and for a moment, Harvey could hear nothing but the pounding of his own heart. The room seemed to close in on him, the walls shifting, spinning, as if reality itself was being altered.
A cold shiver ran down Harvey's spine. He had known from the beginning that there would be a cost. But he hadn't expected this.
"Your sister, Ginny," Nygma murmured, as if reading Harvey's thoughts. "She will be the one. Her blood will do the trick."
Harvey's chest tightened, a sickening realization taking root. Ginny. She was everything to him—his last tether to the life he had once known. She was his sister, his closest friend, the person he trusted more than anyone. And yet, here Nygma was, suggesting that her blood would be the key to his salvation.
His heart twisted in horror as he pictured Ginny—her bright, determined eyes, her warmth, her laughter. She had never known the darkness that had overtaken him. He couldn't imagine bringing her into this world of madness, this twisted bargain.
But Nygma was waiting, his grin widening at Harvey's hesitation. "You see, Harvey," he said softly, "this is your chance to be free. To reclaim who you are. But remember, it comes at a cost. The choice is yours. Your sister's blood, and Denton's soul will be gone forever. Or you can continue to live in this nightmare."
Harvey's mind raced, his thoughts clashing like thunder. Ginny. The blood. He could feel the temptation rising, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. He had to do it. He had to rid himself of Denton. He couldn't live like this anymore. Not when every step forward felt like a step into darkness.
The promise of releasing himself from Denton's clutches, of reclaiming his own identity—Harvey was desperate for it. But was the cost too high? His mind screamed at him to walk away, to refuse Nygma's sickening offer. Yet, his heart, twisted with guilt and confusion, couldn't see another way out.
In a single, fluid motion, he tossed the coin into the air.
The golden disc spun, whirling in the dark room, its reflection flashing like a beacon. Harvey held his breath, his heart hammering in his chest as the coin spun higher and higher. He couldn't look away. His future, his fate, was in its hands. The decision had been made, but the outcome remained uncertain.
The coin fell.
With a soft clink, it landed on the floor, face-up.
Tails.
Harvey's breath escaped in a sharp exhale. There was no turning back now.
Nygma's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Excellent. But remember, Harvey, this is a one-way trip. Once you begin, there is no turning back."
Harvey nodded, his resolve hardening. He had made his choice, but deep down, a part of him knew that the price of his freedom would be far greater than he could ever imagine.
Meanwhile, in Harry's Room...
Harry Wayne was awake, the sheets tangled around him, his mind racing. He had been restless for hours, an inexplicable sense of unease gnawing at him. He lay still for a moment, listening to the quiet of the castle, the only sounds the occasional creak of the ancient walls and the distant rumble of wind through the towers. Something wasn't right. He could feel it in his bones, like an itch at the back of his mind that couldn't be scratched.
He sat up slowly, pushing the covers off his legs. The soft glow of the moon filtered through the curtains, casting strange shadows on the walls. As he gazed out into the night, something caught his eye.
A bat.
It flitted across the face of the moon, its wings cutting through the air with a speed and purpose that sent a shiver down Harry's spine. It wasn't just any bat—this one seemed to shimmer, glowing faintly with an unnatural light, as if it were a spectral presence.
The moment he saw it, Harry knew something was terribly wrong. He felt it deep within himself—His senses were alive, every fiber of his being screaming for action. He couldn't ignore it any longer. Something was happening, and it was connected to the terrible feeling of dread that had been growing in his chest.
He didn't need to think twice.
Without hesitation, Harry reached for the Belt of Chiroptera hanging at the foot of his bed. The cool leather felt familiar as he wrapped it around his waist. He projected the Bat-Mask over his face, the black fabric settling into place, hiding his identity from the world. Finally, he grabbed the Shadow Cloak—his most powerful tool—and pulled it over his shoulders. The cloak shimmered in the darkness, blending into the shadows like a second skin.
Harry Wayne was no longer Harry. He was the Batman of Hogwarts.
With a surge of energy, he slipped silently into the corridor, the Cloak enveloping him in darkness, his movements swift and fluid. The world around him blurred as his senses sharpened, the weight of the night's events pulling him toward a singular goal. He had to follow the pull—something told him that Ginny was in danger. His heart clenched as the familiar bond between them flared to life, guiding him toward the source of the threat.
The stone corridor was deathly still as Harry stepped lightly.
He moved swiftly, using the power of his Shadow Cloak to blend into the castle's darkness. The cold stone beneath his feet seemed to pulse with every step, and his mind spun as he navigated the maze-like corridors.
He felt it again, more urgently now. The pull was unmistakable, and it was leading him straight toward the hidden chamber—the very same one where unbeknownst to him, Harvey had taken Ginny earlier.
No. Harry's heart began to race as realization struck him. The door was ajar, just slightly. No one was supposed to be there. He had no idea what had transpired between them, but he could sense that whatever had been planned, it was spiraling out of control.
He didn't pause. With a quick motion, Harry swung the door open-The sight that greeted him in the dimly lit chamber was horrifying beyond words.
Harvey was standing frozen, his back turned toward Harry, and Ginny lay motionless on the ground, her body eerily still as though she had been carved from marble. Her hair, bright as a flame, fanned out in a pool around her head, contrasting starkly with the stillness of her form.
But the most terrifying thing of all was the Basilisk. The massive serpent loomed over her, its yellow eyes glowing like molten gold, staring down at Ginny in its usual deadly, paralyzing gaze. Its scales shimmered in the dim light, a dark, iridescent green, and its mouth was half-open, showing rows of sharp, venomous fangs.
The beast's hissing reverberated in the silence, the sound of ancient malice, primal and deadly. Ginny was on the verge of locking eyes with the Basilisk—just a moment away from her doom.
A sickening realization hit Harry like a physical blow.
It's too late.
He didn't know what had happened before he arrived, but the fear in Harvey's posture—the way his shoulders were rigid, and his eyes wide with frozen horror—told Harry that something had gone horribly wrong.
But Harry couldn't let that stop him. His mind didn't give him time to think. It simply acted.
Ginny's still alive. She's still alive.
As Harry entered the chamber, he didn't just find Harvey standing frozen, nor was it only the Basilisk looming over Ginny. In the dim light, there was another figure—standing quietly near the far corner, his posture calm, almost aloof. It was Tom Nygma, the Riddler, and his thin lips curled into a knowing, cryptic smile as he regarded the unfolding scene with detached amusement.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice smooth and sly, like the hiss of a snake. "I do enjoy when a plan comes to fruition. But, I must admit, you've rather spoiled my fun."
Harry's breath caught in his throat as his gaze shot to the Riddler, the realization hitting him like a cold wave. This had all been part of Nygma's twisted scheme—every move, every twist, every turn had been set into motion by the enigmatic mastermind. Ginny's peril, the appearance of the Basilisk, Harvey's presence—it was all orchestrated by the Riddler's hand.
"You—" Harry started, but his words died in his throat as he watched the Riddler, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
The Riddler took a step forward, eyes gleaming with malice and intellect. "You really think you're the hero in this little drama, Wayne? How quaint. This is about puzzles, about clues. And you've missed every one of them."
Harry's fists clenched as the Riddler moved casually, surveying the scene with a sort of detached amusement. It was almost like he was watching an unfolding game, each piece moving as he had planned.
But then, just as quickly as the Riddler had spoken, he stepped back. His gaze flickered to Harvey, then to the Basilisk, and finally back to Harry, his smile widening ever so slightly. The moment of satisfaction he had felt in his plan's near success was about to come to an end. And he was ready for it.
"Goodbye, Wayne," the Riddler said, his tone laced with mockery and finality.
In a blur of motion, the Riddler raised his hand—an intricate series of movements, almost like a signal. Then, with an almost casual tilt of his head, the Riddler vanished. The room felt different in the wake of his disappearance. His presence had been unsettling, cryptic, like an elusive shadow.
Harry's body moved before his mind could catch up. He stepped forward, hands already reaching for the Shadow Cloak tucked under his arm. As the Cloak fluttered in the air, the room seemed to darken around him, his form vanishing beneath the fabric. He was invisible now, but time was slipping away.
The Basilisk, sensing the movement, turned its head toward the shadow, its deadly eyes flickering in Harry's direction. The air grew thick with the beast's venomous aura, the danger of the situation escalating in the blink of an eye.
Ginny's breathing quickened as she shifted slightly, her lips trembling, on the edge of succumbing to the Basilisk's gaze. Her eyes were still open—she had not yet met the monster's deadly stare, but she was about to. She wasn't even aware of it. She was still paralyzed, her body unresponsive, caught in the monster's spell. Harry knew that in mere seconds, she would lock eyes with the serpent, and it would be too late.
Harry acted without hesitation.
He was just steps away now, but the Basilisk's gaze was already turning back to Ginny. Harry's heart lurched in his chest. There wasn't enough time.
I need to stop it.
In a flash, Harry reached into his belt and grabbed the hilt of the Dagger of Chiroptera, its obsidian blade cold and familiar in his palm. He wasn't sure if his movements were more instinct or desperation, but he knew what had to be done.
With one swift motion, Harry tossed the Cloak into the air, the shadows surrounding him becoming a black veil of protection. The Basilisk hissed, its eyes now gleaming directly toward him, but it couldn't see him. The Cloak wrapped around the serpent's form, rendering it invisible, and the room was plunged into total darkness, save for the faint greenish glow of the Basilisk's eyes.
For one brief, terrible second, there was nothing but the eerie silence, the oppressive weight of the beast's presence, and Harry's pounding heart.
And then he was moving.
The moment the Cloak hit the ground, Harry darted forward, weaving through the air with a quiet determination. The Basilisk, now hidden under the Cloak, was confused, thrashing its massive body in a violent arc, trying to catch its prey, but it couldn't see him. Its head swung wildly, jaws snapping and striking the air in search of a target.
Harry's feet hit the ground lightly as he moved in. His breath was steady, his pulse quickened, but his resolve was unshakable. Ginny's life was still hanging in the balance.
In a blur of motion, Harry lunged forward, using every ounce of his strength to push the blade through the Cloak. The Dagger of Chiroptera gleamed under the shadows, its obsidian edge slicing through the dark air. He thrust it forward with precision, driving it into the creature's scaled neck.
The Basilisk recoiled, its body writhing in pain as the blade cut deep, severing the muscles in its throat. The serpent hissed in agony, its massive body thrashing and convulsing as its blood, thick and black, spilled from the wound. The venomous beast let out a deafening roar, but Harry wasn't finished. He twisted the dagger, pulling the weapon upward with a savage motion.
With one final, decisive strike, Harry brought the dagger down with all the force he could muster, severing the Basilisk's head completely from its body. The serpent's enormous body buckled, the life fading from its cold, unblinking eyes.
The Basilisk collapsed in a heavy, dying heap, its body crumpling to the floor with a sickening thud. The room was still, the only sound now was the labored breathing of the survivors.
Harry stood panting, the dagger still in his hand, eyes fixed on the lifeless serpent. His chest heaved, and for a moment, he was motionless, overwhelmed by the sheer proximity of danger they had just escaped.
But his focus snapped back to Ginny, who was still lying on the floor, her body frozen in stone. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow, but it was clear she hadn't yet succumbed to the Basilisk's deadly venom—at least, not fully.
He rushed to her side, dropping the Dagger of Chiroptera onto the floor. He needed to get her out of this.
"Ginny…" Harry whispered, desperately kneeling beside her, reaching for her hand. "You're going to be okay. Hold on, okay? Hold on."
Ginny's eyes fluttered open, but her gaze was unfocused, hazy, as if she were trapped somewhere far from here.
She's alive, she's alive, Harry repeated over and over in his head. But the stone-like paralysis that had gripped her body was still too strong.
Her lips parted in a faint whisper. "Harry…"
His heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice. Her body was still frozen, but her spirit was fighting to survive. Harry gently shook her, willing her to come back.
"Stay with me, Ginny," Harry urged, his voice thick with emotion. He needed to act fast, needed to get her the antidote before the venom did its damage. "You're going to make it. You have to."
And though he could still feel the weight of the battle in his bones, and the relief of the moment they had just survived, Harry knew that this was far from over. Ginny needed him, and there was no time to waste.
To be continued….
*Thanks to my friend and writing partner from the beginning of the creative days of youth, when it all started - Guano Droppings, for the amazing plot ideas.