Lucas didn't hesitate—he already had a plan to deal with the Basilisk.
His eyes locked onto the golden snake head. It was obvious this thing required a specific spell or command to activate—probably something only the founder of Slytherin would know.
So, that left him with only one option: brute-force cracking.
With that in mind, Lucas placed his hand on the snake head and began channeling his magic into it.
If he could override the existing magic with his own, he should be able to force it open.
"This might actually work…"
He wasn't completely sure, of course. He was still just a rookie wizard who hadn't even studied for a full day.
If this didn't work, he'd have to consider using Thunder Dragon's Crushing Fist. But if it came to that, he'd probably wake up the entire Slytherin dorm.
Lucas narrowed his eyes, focusing on the magical circuit within the snake head, and steadily pushed his own power into it.
About three minutes passed.
A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face.
Just as he suspected—if you erase the original magic and replace it with your own, you could control the stone door leading to the basement.
A loud boom suddenly echoed through the common room.
In the dead silence of the Slytherin dorms, the sound was jarring.
Luckily, it was the middle of the night. Glancing around, it looked like no one had been woken up.
The stone floor panel had opened, releasing a foul, musty stench that made Lucas instinctively pinch his nose.
After a second's pause, he grabbed an oil lamp from a nearby table and made his way slowly down the underground staircase.
The flame wavered as he walked, showing the air down here was at least ventilated.
That was a relief.
With a wave of his hand, Lucas closed the stone door behind him. If someone came looking, all they'd see was an empty lounge.
His footsteps echoed loudly in the narrow tunnel. He lifted the oil lamp higher, the flickering light pushing back the darkness.
"I had no idea there was a place like this under Slytherin," he muttered.
The staircase was long. It took him two or three minutes just to reach the bottom.
A small stone door stood ahead, with light seeping in from the other side. Looked like there was a small chamber beyond it.
Lucas kept his guard up, ready to use his Sharingan at any moment, and crept forward with the lamp.
Beyond the stone door was a vast, semi-circular platform. A long road stretched forward, flanked on both sides by shallow pools of water.
Lining the pools were rows of snake heads, hissing with their tongues out. In the dim light, they looked creepy as hell.
After confirming there were no immediate threats, Lucas walked over and peered into one of the pools. The water was surprisingly clear, glinting in the lamplight.
It probably shared a water source with another part of the castle.
He turned his gaze around the platform, using his Sharingan to scan for hidden magical traces. It wasn't long before he spotted a cave tucked into the upper-left side of the rock wall.
There wasn't any magical output, but something about it felt… off.
"A Basilisk nest?" he whispered.
Lucas moved cautiously toward the cave.
The Basilisk should be in a magically induced sleep, controlled by Parseltongue commands. Only someone speaking Parseltongue could wake it again.
Still, he kept his guard up. Never hurts to be careful when your life's on the line.
The closer he got to the cave, the stronger the stench grew. He wrinkled his nose and covered his mouth instinctively.
The Basilisk had been created by Salazar Slytherin himself. By the timeline, that was nearly a thousand years ago.
And according to the Encyclopedia of Magical Creatures, the average Basilisk lifespan was around 900 years.
This one had definitely outlived that. It had to be something... unnatural.
Inside the cave, the oil lamp's light revealed the massive creature in full.
A huge Basilisk, covered in thick dark green scales, lay curled up in the narrow cavern, eyes shut in deep sleep.
It was enormous—at least 50 feet long and insanely thick.
Lucas stared at the closed eyes and sighed.
If he wanted to control the Basilisk with his Sharingan, he needed direct eye contact.
But looking at a Basilisk could also mean instant death.
His idea? Use a massive enchanted mirror to reflect his Sharingan into the creature's eyes from a safe distance.
But that was a problem for later—first, he had to wake it up.
"Gotta wait for that notebook to get here."
While waiting, Lucas didn't waste time. He pulled a summoning scroll from his pocket and pricked his finger with a dagger.
The dagger bounced harmlessly off the Basilisk's scale.
Frowning, he channeled magic into the blade, coating it in lightning. This time, it sliced through easily, and dark red blood oozed out.
He dabbed a bit onto the scroll, added some of his own blood, and wrote his name—completing a forced blood pact for a summoning contract.
Glancing at his watch, he saw it was already 1 AM.
He packed up the scroll, and instead of heading back the way he came, he looked toward the stone door at the end of the long hallway.
If memory served, it led to a bathroom—specifically, the one haunted by Moaning Myrtle.
Lucas walked toward it, oil lamp in hand.