I continued walking deeper into the Chamber, my boots echoing softly against the cold stone floor. The air was thick with ancient magic — the kind that hummed in your veins if you stood still long enough. I stopped before the massive statue of Salazar Slytherin, his eyes carved in a perpetual look of disdain, his mouth open wide in eternal command.
Something drew me closer. I stepped onto the statue's base and peered into that enormous mouth. With a muttered spell of illumination, I saw a narrow stone passage curling inward.
"Well," I murmured, smirking slightly, "no one ever said the founder of Slytherin lacked dramatic entrances."
I climbed into the mouth, the light of my wand bobbing as I moved forward. The tunnel soon widened into a hidden antechamber, dimly lit by emerald crystals embedded into the walls. Dust coated everything, but beneath it all, I could feel the pulse of enchantments older than Hogwarts itself.
As I stepped further, I realized I was standing in what appeared to be Salazar Slytherin's personal laboratory. Tables lined the walls, still covered in flasks, glass tubes, ancient cauldrons, and parchments too brittle to touch without a preservation charm. The air reeked faintly of age, stone, and a lingering metallic tang of potion residue.
"Unbelievable…" I whispered, moving from one workbench to another. "Centuries, and this place still hums with magic."
Then I noticed something strange — a door at the far end of the room, smooth and silvered, with faint runes carved into it that pulsed faintly as I approached.
Without thinking, I reached out to touch it.
The instant my fingers made contact, I felt a sharp prick. "Ow—what the—" I hissed, jerking back as a single drop of my blood was drawn into the door's runes. They flared an intense green, twisting into new shapes before the door clicked and swung open soundlessly.
I narrowed my eyes. "Blood-bound magic… clever old serpent."
Inside, the room was small and circular, but the energy here was almost suffocating. And then, before I could take a step further, a shimmering figure of light appeared — tall, proud, and unmistakably ancient.
Salazar Slytherin.
He regarded me with eyes like emerald fire. "So… my heir awakens my sanctum," the hologram said, voice echoing faintly like a whisper from the grave. "It has been long since I placed these wards."
I froze, momentarily speechless. "You're… Salazar Slytherin?"
"A fragment of him," the projection replied. "Left behind for the one who carries my blood or bears my legacy."
He folded his hands behind his back, studying me. "The world has grown foolish. I founded this school to preserve and advance magic — but the naïveté of my fellow founders blinded them. They welcomed Muggle-borns without restraint, blind to the danger they carried."
His tone hardened, filled with centuries of bitterness. "They did not see that the age of witches and wizards was fading, that the Muggle world would rise and crush us. I left, for I would not allow my vision to be diluted by sentimentality."
I listened carefully, nodding slowly. "So that's why you left Hogwarts…"
Salazar's image inclined its head slightly. "I sought to protect magic. Those of true heritage — pureblood and half-blood — are the ones who could survive the darkness that was coming."
Before I could reply, the air around me shifted. The projection's eyes flared brighter.
"Now," he said, "let us see if you are truly my heir."
Before I could even raise my wand, a sudden blast of magic struck me straight in the forehead. My vision blurred as pain exploded in my skull. I screamed, clutching my head, as a torrent of alien magic pounded against my Occlumency shields — Legilimency interwoven with a modified Imperius curse.
"STOP—!" I gasped, but my words broke into silence as the spell forced its way inside.
Then, just as suddenly as it came, the pain shifted — from agony to pure clarity. My breathing slowed. My hands fell to my sides. I wasn't being controlled. I was being filled.
A flood of knowledge, memories, and instincts poured into me — Salazar's knowledge of potions, his mastery of runes, curses, enchantments, and the darkest forms of the arcane arts. I saw battles fought in the shadowed halls of the first wizarding wars, duels where he had slain his enemies with effortless precision. I saw his studies on blood magic, serpentcraft, ancient wards, and alchemical transmutation that rivaled even Merlin's.
When it finally ended, I fell to one knee, panting. My mind burned with power.
"I… I can feel it," I whispered hoarsely. "Every spell, every theory… I understand them."
Salazar's voice, faint and fading now, spoke one last time. "Use it well, heir of Slytherin. Do not squander my legacy as others have squandered theirs."
His image flickered and vanished.
I stayed there for a long moment, still kneeling, breathing heavily. My hands trembled as I flexed them, feeling the sheer density of magic coursing through my veins.
"I can rival Dumbledore now," I murmured. "In knowledge, at least. The only thing left… is power."
I rose slowly, my eyes gleaming with determination — and just a hint of hunger. "Once I have that, no one — not Dumbledore, not Grindelwald — will ever stand above me."
The Chamber was silent again, but it didn't matter. For the first time, I truly felt what it meant to carry the name Slytherin.