Due to the sheer number of basilisks, most rats never get the chance to see one in their short little lives—let alone survive after locking eyes with one. This rat, though? It had basically reached the top of the rat world. Cohen figured that's probably why it looked so peaceful, almost like it was already dead.
"Looks like it worked pretty well," Cohen said.
He tossed the rat onto the ground, and it immediately bolted—trying to escape before the big humans or even bigger snakes could grab it. Too bad it ran the wrong way.
The baby basilisk snapped it up in one bite. Didn't even need venom—the rat stopped struggling right away. The little basilisk wasn't wearing glasses, after all.
"I added a little feature," Cohen said with a grin. "Hold on—I need to test it out."
With that, he pulled out his wand.
By tweaking the flow of magic just a bit, he could temporarily disable Sisoko's glasses. Which meant…
Cohen pulled out a second rat.
This time, the moment it was out, it dropped dead.
"Total success!" Cohen said, sounding pleased as he tossed the second rat to the baby basilisk under the table.
For the rest of the time, Cohen whipped up two more pairs of lenses and fitted them onto both the old basilisk and the baby one.
"Now the whole family's all set and matching," Cohen said with a nod.
From the outside, they looked no different than they did without glasses. No one's going to stare at a basilisk's eyes anyway—they're too busy running for their lives.
"Remember, tomorrow at eleven, right after Defense Against the Dark Arts," Cohen said. "You don't have to listen to Voldemort anymore, but stick to this part of the plan. I'll hit them with a petrification spell—it's close enough to the real thing. The key is to pin all the blame on Voldemort, then get Harry to feel sorry for you, and boom—freedom."
"Thank you…" the old basilisk rumbled in a deep voice. "Cohen."
"Thank you…" the baby basilisk echoed, mimicking its elder. "Daddy."
It was just parroting, but it stuck to its own quirky logic.
"I'm your dad," Sisoko corrected patiently, for what felt like the hundredth time. "He's your brother."
"Okay, Mommy!" the baby basilisk chirped.
"And Sisoko, you got the plan for our next meet-up, right?" Cohen said quietly, double-checking with him. "We've got to put on a big show… so I can keep playing the part of Voldemort's fake ally."
"Got it, got it," Sisoko replied. "So the little guy stays with you for now, and tomorrow I can crash at your place, yeah?"
"Barring any surprises, yeah, that's the plan," Cohen said with a nod.
---
On Wednesday morning, during the only Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the day, Lockhart was still up there running his pointless "drama lessons." He'd already acted out all the fun scenes from his books, so lately he'd been picking random, boring topics and dragging Harry and Hermione into his little plays.
Cohen knew exactly why Hermione would end up staying behind after this class.
She'd finally had it with Lockhart. She was determined to call him out on his nonsense after the lesson—a wizard who couldn't even cast a proper spell had no business teaching anyone.
"You guys go grab lunch," Hermione said to Cohen, Harry, and Ron just before the bell.
"I've got something to say to Lockhart. If you're around, the punishment might end up three times worse."
"You mean detention?" Ron said, incredulous. "No way. Lockhart loves you. Sure, you say you can't stand him, but you're the only one acing those narcissistic quizzes of his."
"That's because I read all his dumb fantasy novels at the start of the year!" Hermione growled. "I can't handle getting a zero on anything."
"That's called OCD. You should get that checked," Cohen teased.
Still, Harry and Ron went along with her plan. Harry had the Quidditch final coming up, and Ron was just lazy—neither of them could risk anything that might land them in detention.
After class, Hermione stayed behind to confront Lockhart. Harry and Ron headed to the Great Hall, while Cohen slipped off to the bathroom.
The bathroom bit was a lie. Cohen was actually doubling back with his Invisibility Cloak. Since the old basilisk's death stare was out of commission, it was up to him to cast the spells on the two of them.
He turned down an empty corridor and looped back. Everyone was off to lunch, so hardly anyone was heading upstairs.
Perfect timing—he arrived just as Hermione and Lockhart were facing off.
"Oh, Miss Granger," Lockhart said with a smile. Weirdly, he always managed to flash every single one of his pearly whites when he grinned.
Cohen thought he'd be perfect for a toothpaste ad.
"Professor?" Hermione took a deep breath.
"I've got some questions for you."
"What kind of questions?" Lockhart said, still beaming. "I'm always happy to give a little extra help to the brightest student in the year—just don't tell the others, wouldn't want them feeling jealous."
"I found an old newspaper from 1987," Hermione said. "July 7th, 1987. An American wizard claimed he used a powerful Transfiguration spell to trap a werewolf in human form permanently, so it couldn't hurt anyone during a full moon."
"Uh… what about it?" Lockhart said, looking a bit off. "I don't really read American papers… not too familiar with that spell…"
"No one believed him," Hermione pressed. "They thought he was bragging. Werewolves can't be cured—or maybe they just didn't want to believe him because he was some ugly old wizard living in a remote village."
"Miss Granger, why bring this up all of a sudden?" Lockhart said, dodging the topic. "Lunch is about to start—"
"It's got a lot in common with your book *Wanderings with Werewolves*, doesn't it?" Hermione cut in sharply. "You wrote that book a month after this happened. The timing, the place, the events—they're almost identical. The only difference is who's starring in the story."
"Could just be a coincidence…" Lockhart mumbled, edging toward the door.
"And it's not just that. The yeti from 1988—"
*The latest novels are first released on 69 Book Bar!*
"Enough," Lockhart snapped, his tone suddenly harsh. "This little detective game ends here. I thought you were a good student, but turns out you're just—"
"Your books are stolen," Hermione said, furious, cutting right to the point. "Those stories aren't yours!"
"So what?" Lockhart's fake smile vanished, replaced by a nasty sneer. "Planning to run to the papers and expose me? Or maybe blackmail me for a big payout? Use that not-so-bright head of yours and think! If I hadn't hyped up those stories, who'd even know what those people did? Readers don't want some ugly American wizard's tale, even if he saved a village from a werewolf. They don't want a hairy-chinned witch on a book cover, even if she banished the Wailing Wraith of Wanlen. No readers, no story—it's that simple!"
"So you just slap your name on their achievements and call it fair?!" Hermione shot back, outraged. "That's not right for them!"
"It's plenty fair," Lockhart snarled. "Because none of them remember a thing. Ha! I've traveled everywhere, cast all those Memory Charms—don't tell me I haven't worked hard for it!"
"I'm telling Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said firmly.
"Oh," Lockhart sneered. "I'm guessing Dumbledore won't hear a word of this—because you'll forget it all soon enough. I'll make sure your memory's wiped spotless—"
He pulled out his wand—but he clearly had no idea how many spells this student had learned that weren't even on the curriculum.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Hermione flung a spell at him, and instantly, ropes shot out, binding Lockhart's legs.
"Hiss—"
Just as Hermione was about to throw another spell, a loud, low, terrifying hiss echoed through the room.
The old basilisk slithered out from a wall near Hermione and Lockhart—a brick panel had just spun open to reveal a gaping hole.
"Snake—"
The second Hermione caught a glimpse of green scales, she slammed her eyes shut. Lockhart, though, locked eyes with the basilisk—and promptly fainted from sheer terror.
*Petrificus Totalus.*
Cohen silently cast a petrification spell at Hermione. Her eyes were closed anyway, so she'd probably think it was Lockhart's doing…
The old basilisk glanced toward Cohen—it could "smell" his scent and heat with its tongue.
Then, as planned, it coiled around the two of them and slithered back toward the hole.
Voices suddenly echoed from outside the classroom door.
"I told you, Hermione'll definitely bring our bags back," Ron said confidently.
"With all those heavy books in them?" Harry replied. "No way she's lugging three big bags on her own—"
Harry pushed the door open.
He caught the exact moment a rigid Hermione was swept up by a deep green snake tail, disappearing into the wall at lightning speed.
"HERMIONE!!!"
(End of Chapter)