As soon as Kai Adler stepped into the Room of Requirement, he collapsed onto the cold stone floor. Agonizing pain radiated through his limbs—his entire being a battlefield for the two forces raging within him.
His magic was doing everything it could to suppress the Obscurus. But it was no longer enough.
Black mist coiled from his body like steam from a boiling cauldron. This time, the eruption had begun stronger than ever. Not only could he barely move, but every breath felt like a blade through his ribs.
He knew why it was worse.
Earlier, in his fury, he had used the Obscurus to kill.
Magic is a reflection of the soul. For wizards, even using ordinary spells carries spiritual feedback. But killing—true, irrevocable killing—can fracture the soul.
The rage and bloodlust had belonged to the Obscurus at the time. But now, the aftermath—the cost—was his alone to bear.
Dumbledore stood quietly nearby, his lips pressed thin, eyes watching the boy tremble in pain on the floor. The black mist grew thicker, pulsing violently. Kai managed to raise a shaking hand, and with a flick, a streak of purple shot toward the old wizard.
Dumbledore caught it gently. It was Luna, the tiny winged serpent, her feathered head peeking out of his palm, eyes wide with fear and confusion.
The black mist had entirely cloaked Kai's body now, no longer a haze but a churning mass of dark power, its surface heaving as though it might erupt at any moment.
The walls of the Room of Requirement—fortified by ancient magic—had begun to show signs of corrosion.
Dumbledore stroked Luna's scales, murmuring nothing. His gaze never left the boy on the ground.
"You don't have to hold on."
He had expected Kai to release the Obscurus the moment he reached the room. To let it run its course, protected and isolated. Instead, the boy was still resisting it.
"No," Kai ground out through clenched teeth. "This is my power. I won't be bullied by it."
Dumbledore sighed. He understood. If Kai could suppress the outburst, control it at its worst—then the Obscurus would no longer be a curse. It would become his.
But…
"You're playing a dangerous game," Dumbledore said softly. "You might die."
The Obscurus was like a flood, and Kai had made himself the dam. One misstep, and he would be swept away.
Bloodshot eyes met Dumbledore's through the swirling mist. "It's not the first time I've done this. And… you're here, aren't you? The greatest wizard alive wouldn't let me die here, would he?"
Even now, he managed a faint smile.
So much like Gellert, Dumbledore thought. That reckless arrogance born not from pride—but from conviction.
"If you can't hold on," Dumbledore murmured, "you must tell me."
"Nonsense… I've barely lived yet."
The boy's voice trembled with strain. Then he fell silent. Even the shaking of his limbs stilled, and for a long moment, he didn't move at all. His breath was faint, barely perceptible beneath the smothering haze of darkness.
He looked like a corpse.
Luna stirred, trying to fly toward her master, but Dumbledore gently held her back.
"Not yet," he whispered.
So they waited, in silence.
After what felt like an eternity, Kai's fingers twitched.
Slowly, he pushed himself upright. The black mist wrapped around him like a second skin. The air around him shimmered with heatless distortion, as though it were beginning to decay.
"Dumbledore," he rasped. "Tell Hermione something for me."
Dumbledore gave a silent nod, turned, and walked to the door.
The moment it closed behind him, the black mist surged with terrifying force—and Kai's figure vanished within it.
Elsewhere
Students were filing out of the Great Hall in small groups, chattering about the duels.
Ron Weasley dragged Harry away by the arm, Hermione close behind.
Once they reached the empty Gryffindor common room, Ron rounded on Harry.
"You're a Parselmouth? Why didn't you say anything?!"
Harry blinked, confused. "What?"
"You can talk to snakes, Harry!"
Harry frowned. "Yeah… I stopped that snake from attacking someone."
Ron looked like he might explode. "You weren't stopping it! You were speaking Parseltongue! None of us understood a word—it looked like you were telling it to attack!"
"I wasn't!" Harry shouted. "I didn't even know I could speak that language."
"You didn't learn it. That's the thing—Parseltongue isn't taught. It's inherited."
Harry looked between them. "Inherited?"
"From Salazar Slytherin," Hermione said quietly, her mind clearly elsewhere.
They both turned to her.
"Hermione…?"
She snapped out of it. "The Chamber of Secrets. Remember what Professor McGonagall said? It was opened by Slytherin's heir. Slytherin was a Parselmouth."
"So they think I'm the heir?" Harry asked, horrified.
Hermione shrugged. "They might. No one knows their ancestry that far back."
Ron looked dumbfounded. "What are we going to do?"
But Hermione was already halfway to the door. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and left without a word.
"Where's she going?" Harry asked.
Ron squinted after her, brow furrowing. "You're being accused of opening the Chamber of Secrets… What could possibly be more important than that?"
A beat passed.
Then Ron muttered, "…Kai Adler, probably."