Chapter 93 "Soul Stitch"

"No." Sherlock shook his head, "You're not."

Tom stared at him, "You're saying I'm nothing?"

"You are his soul or a part of his soul." Sherlock's face gradually changed, and he seemed to finally understand something, "I don't know what magic Voldemort used to separate his soul, but part of it was put into his diary by him, and you were created."

Tom was quiet, and his face changed, "You're smart, Professor Forrest. You're really smart. If you were my professor when I was in school, you might have seen through everything I did."

He said coldly, "But no matter how much you see now, it's useless. You're going to die soon!"

While he was talking, the Basilisk finally recovered from all the pain. Its jaw, with a large hole, was still dripping black blood on the ground. But its strength is good. This kind of injury would not make it die. It continued to smell Sherlock and the others, intending to continue the attack.

Sherlock didn't pay any attention to the Basilisk, who was waiting for an opportunity to attack, and his eyes were fixed on Tom.

"So you admit I'm right. You're not Voldemort's memory at all. You're him. You're part of his soul."

"Correct." Tom admitted it. He didn't think anyone could escape alive here, and no one would know about these things.

"I am him, he is me, and our souls have been the same."

Sherlock had a smile on his face. Harry and Ron were stunned when they saw his smile. They had never seen Sherlock smile since they had known him. Although his face was covered in blood at this time, and his robe was torn, it was noticeable.

"I see." He said softly.

He stretched out his hand and touched Tom's body. Tom felt something was wrong and started to get nervous.

"What are you doing?"

Sherlock didn't answer him because an obscure spell had already been chanted from his mouth. A gray light began to light up where his hand and Tom's body made contact. Tom felt that his body was being squeezed and compressed by a strange force as if it was trying to turn him into a line.

He has no way to resist that power as if it is aimed specifically at his soul.

He screamed nervously, "What are you doing?! Stop! Do you know what you are doing?!"

His voice did not stop Sherlock's movements at all. The gray light lit up Tom's whole body, even making him unable to maintain his figure.

A piercing scream echoed in the common room. Sherlock felt that the mark on his left arm was gradually getting hot, but he did not stop. The Soul Stitching magic he learned from the book written by the original Sherlock's mother continued to be used.

He felt that the feeling in Tom's soul had been completely erased and turned into something body that could no longer be pure. The magic is forming the soul into threads and needles and starts to stitch his own soul.

Just as Sherlock cast the spell on Tom, the Basilisk's movements didn't stop. It stretched its body, smelled around, and found Sherlock and the others.

Harry was holding the Sorting Hat. He had been trying to communicate with the Sorting Hat, but nothing came up. This Hat seems to have become an ordinary hat without any magical properties.

After Tom got stuck with Sherlock's spell, the effect of the binding spell on them disappeared.

Harry looked at the Basilisk that had reached out, gritted his teeth, put the Sorting Hat on Neville's head, and called to Ron.

"We have to figure out a way to help the professor with the Basilisk!" Ron pulled out his wand, and the magic tape on it had worn out. His broken wand was once again connected with only a bit of wool in the middle.

He put his wand on the ground and went to pick up Neville's wand, which Tom had dropped on the ground. Harry and he ran together in the common room, their spells hitting the Basilisk's skin. While it does not do much damage, it draws its attention from Sherlock.

The Phoenix, who was knocked to the side, finally got rid of Tom's spell at this time. It spread its wings and glided in the air, venting its anger on the Basilisk and attacking its blind eyes with its sharp beak.

But the Basilisk is fierce now. The lack of hearing and vision makes it less powerful, but it still has some strength. It twisted its body, Ron couldn't dodge, and was hit by its tail.

"Ron!" Harry shouted.

Ron didn't answer him, and the impact made him faint on the spot. Neville's lips trembled as he watched Ron being knocked out. Harry and the Phoenix still fought with the Basilisk.

"I want to help them," He kept begging the Sorting Hat, "Please, let me help them."

Something hard and heavy fell on top of Neville's head, nearly knocking him unconscious. His eyes shone. He grabbed the Hat and tried to take it off, but he felt a long, hard thing under it.

It is a sword.

"Thank you!" He didn't know who he was thanking.

Neville raised the sword, stood up from the ground, and walked in the direction of the Basilisk. He raised the sword high above his head, approaching the Basilisk, and finally stabbed into its body.

The Basilisk hissed and roared. The Basilisk tumbled violently, throwing Neville out. At this time, Sherlock also completed his magic. He felt that he was in an extremely wonderful state and had never felt so powerful.

It seems that as long as he is willing, with a single thought, he can make things achieve anything he wants right now. His eyes flashed with a faint light, and he looked at the Basilisk.

Sherlock stretched out one of his hands without chanting a spell and without waving his wand. He just used his thoughts.

Several broken tables and chairs floated up in the common room and surrounded the Basilisk. After that, it suddenly turned into countless spears several meters long and pierced through its body in an instant.