Draco Malfoy, transmigrator, died after being bitten by a Basilisk; no remains left, thus this cenotaph is erected.
Draco didn't want his epitaph to be just these few simple words.
But the grim situation before him left him with almost no way to face it; the fields he excelled in were almost entirely ineffective. The Basilisk's magic resistance was basically maxed out, and his spells hitting it would probably be like tickling it. Looking at those smooth scales, they might even reflect the spell and finish him off.
Look at how many 'hacks' Harry used when he killed the Basilisk: one Phoenix Fawkes, who served as the harassment specialist and provided a huge assist by pecking out the Basilisk's eyes; one divine weapon, the Sword of Gryffindor, which could cut through iron like butter—holding that would surely multiply one's combat power several times over; and finally, an intelligence-boosting hat (alright, that was just a joke).
Yet now he was all alone; his only reliance, his wand, was about to break.
The difference in treatment is really huge, Draco thought as he felt the Basilisk tighten its bite again, and his poor wand once more let out a mournful cry as if it were about to snap.
"Is there any magic for limb regrowth?" Draco had already considered giving up his injured hand to save his life. But even if he gave it up, what then? Once the Basilisk regained its freedom, it would be forced to close its eyes again, not to mention it'd be missing a hand, making its situation even more difficult.
"It's in the hands of fate." He sighed, preparing to use the trump card that was full of uncertainty.
"Expecto Patronum!" As he chanted the incantation and recalled happy memories, the broken wand tip still sprayed out silver gas, and this time there was no obstruction.
"Hahahaha." Watching the scene before him, Draco burst into wild laughter, though it was unclear what he was laughing at.
A silver rooster appeared before him, floating in the air. With just one loud crow, the Basilisk acted as if it had heard something absolutely terrifying; it immediately released its sharp venomous fangs and collapsed limply to the ground without the slightest resistance.
Draco laughed somewhat neurotically, not only for his survival but also at his own previous behaviour.
He thought about his previous strenuous practice—what was it all for?
That's right, to be absolutely safe, he had previously decided to steer his Patronus form toward a rooster, but he had always failed. Today, using the Patronus Charm with a gambling mindset, he realised he had been doing useless work all along; by being too deliberate, he had caused his constant failure.
He thought of some theories regarding the Patronus Charm—the summoned animal always symbolises certain traits deep within one's heart.
He thought of the traits people in his original world attributed to the rooster—bravery, tenacity.
"Right, there's also the effect of prophecy," Draco thought.
The rooster crows to herald the dawn, signalling the arrival of the morning.
"So, carrying memories of the future after I transmigrated counts as that too?" Draco quickly stopped smiling; he couldn't laugh anymore.
"The shame of a transmigrator!" Now he felt miserable again, insatiable and never satisfied.
"When other Long Aotian transmigrate, their Patronus is either a dragon or a Phoenix, or some other magical creature. Even if their style is a bit lower, it's at least a gryphon."
He looked again at that proud silver rooster, wondering how much his personality would have to change before he could replace this image.
There were precedents for this; Tonks and Snape had both changed their Patronus forms because of love.
Of course, this was just a joke. He was very satisfied with his current Patronus. Draco happily accepted the situation; after all, it had saved his life. He felt that this large silver rooster looked much more pleasing now. The rooster proudly raised its head, looking exceptionally majestic.
"Alright,
I should add pride to that," Draco said to himself.
A wave of intense dizziness suddenly hit him, and he fell headlong to the ground.
With excessive blood loss and sustained high mental tension, it was a miracle that Draco had held on until now. Once the threat to his life was resolved, he could no longer hold out. Without the support of magic, the rooster-shaped Patronus dissipated into the wind, returning to the void.
The Chamber of Secrets fell into a dead silence.
After a few minutes, an old man and a young girl appeared on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets. There were still traces of tears at the corners of the girl's eyes, and her face was full of anxiety.
"No!" Seeing the fallen Draco, Hermione's heart twitched violently. A feeling called self-reproach filled her soul. She lost her usual composure; otherwise, her normal powers of observation would have told her that if Draco had truly failed, he would be in the Basilisk's belly right now, rather than lying on this cold floor. The repeated swings between extreme joy and sorrow also made her mind race, and in her sudden panic, she actually fainted as well.
"Poor child." Dumbledore caught the student who was about to fall backwards. Being the most experienced wizard, he knew the crisis had been resolved the moment he first scanned the surroundings. At most, he would play the role of cleaning things up.
After settling Hermione, Dumbledore walked over slowly. He had to take everyone here back, whether it was the controlled Lockhart or Draco, who had resolved this crisis.
He was also very curious about how Draco, only ten-odd years old, had dealt with this Basilisk. No matter how talented a wizard, without the support of magical power, even if the spells were exquisite, it would be impossible to break through the Basilisk's solid armour. Moreover, there seemed to be some Anti-Transfiguration Jinxes and spells on magical items here. Dumbledore's magic naturally wouldn't be interfered with, but it was more than enough to deal with these children.
"Hey, old man, don't make me a hero." Seeing that Dumbledore had finally arrived, Draco grinned and said with the last bit of his consciousness, "That teacher is quite pitiful; let him have one last moment of glory." After pointing his finger at Lockhart, Draco finally lost consciousness.
A faint, imperceptible light flashed in Dumbledore's azure eyes behind his half-moon spectacles.
"As you wish, child," he said. Even though he was the only one currently conscious in the Chamber of Secrets.
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