THE HEIR OF SLYTHERIN
sudden shower of dark blood spattered the floor. The snake’s tail
thrashed, narrowly missing Harry, and before Harry could shut his
eyes, it turned — Harry looked straight into its face and saw that its
eyes, both its great, bulbous yellow eyes, had been punctured by the
phoenix; blood was streaming to the floor, and the snake was spitting
in agony.
“NO!” Harry heard Riddle screaming. “LEAVE THE BIRD!
LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU! YOU CAN
STILL SMELL HIM! KILL HIM!”
The blinded serpent swayed, confused, still deadly. Fawkes was
circling its head, piping his eerie song, jabbing here and there at its
scaly nose as the blood poured from its ruined eyes.
“Help me, help me,” Harry muttered wildly, “someone — any-
one —”
The snake’s tail whipped across the floor again. Harry ducked.
Something soft hit his face.
The basilisk had swept the Sorting Hat into Harry’s arms. Harry
seized it. It was all he had left, his only chance — he rammed it onto
his head and threw himself flat onto the floor as the basilisk’s tail
swung over him again.
Help me — help me — Harry thought, his eyes screwed tight un-
der the hat. Please help me —
There was no answering voice. Instead, the hat contracted, as
though an invisible hand was squeezing it very tightly.
Something very hard and heavy thudded onto the top of Harry’s
head, almost knocking him out. Stars winking in front of his eyes, he
grabbed the top of the hat to pull it off and felt something long and
hard beneath it.
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