DISCLAIMER: Don't own the characters, don't own the world.
His boots did not displace so much as a particle of dust from the stone beneath him.
Enveloped in the darkness his keen eyes had long mastered, the dull sound of his steps carried him through the paths he had carved out of the very land. Behind every turn, down every long corridor, after every narrow set of rough stairs, he seemed to harness more and more strength from the very earth.
Salazar inhaled deeply. We chose right, this land.
Always down he went, always deeper. "Not much longer, now," he sibilated.
Perhaps the entrance doors were his best work. His long, agile fingers studied the intricate mesh of fine jewelry, metal and stone, and how it felt so organic, so much a part of him. The security, the obeying opulence it radiated was haunting – a rare feeling for a man who had seen as much of the world as Salazar had.
He commanded them to open, revealing the elegant bareness of the chamber ahead. Along the pillars stretching beyond sight, as if they prepared to strike, serpents and its transfixed gemmed eyes followed his every move, as he strode confidently to the center of the room, a different cadence to his step. He felt invigorated.
A small creature coiled around the polished bedrock. Salazar seemed pleased to hear the low hissing it let out. Not far from its position, cracked bits of egg were mixed with what had once been an improvised cradle. What little was left of a toad was also discernible.
Survival of the fittest.
Salazar closed his eyes, kneeling. The serpent drew closer and closer. He could hear the shifting of scales, tongue and eyes taking this new presence in, acknowledging him. He extended his arm, allowing the animal to slide around it before falling back to the cool, polished floor.
"Know that this is your domain, as much as it is mine. As much as it shall be to all of my blood", he whispered, continuing deeper into the chamber, the young basilisk falling in line.
The statue rose before them, teeming with the energy of old magics bound to it in order to help secure Salazar's sanctum.
To those he once treated as brethren, this would certainly look like a testament to ego. And a testament it was, Salazar thought, but only to legacy - to tradition. So that his descendants would never forget the principles they ought to uphold like he did, the traditions of magic they would swear to defend, the way that he did.
His descendants and their powerful guardian would be, much as he was now, the first line of defense of the magical world against the corruption that common, lesser men represented.
The basilisk found a carved path along the stony beard and started making its way up.
"A grand sanctum, so that you grow knowing your duty."
The paced rhythm of water drops falling somewhere in the dark spaces around them gave a melodic tone to the beast's ascension.
"A shrouded temple, so that your senses will be honed."
He could hear the scales scratching stone like claws, muscling the snake ever forward.
"A strong shrine, worthy of my name and your myth."
The basilisk reached the open space where Salazar Slytherin's stony mouth stood wide open. The wizard's words poured out in sibilant chants.
Sleep, now.
Adapt to my world.
He turned on his heels and started making his way back, his statue's mouth closing slowly until only a small gap offered the sight of glowing eyes almost shut.
Answer to my blood.
Such defilement! We cannot take risks, my son. You know what you have to do.
His father's words echoed inside his head.
Keep it safe. Keep it hidden.
Corvinus Gaunt knew the task before him well enough. He had planned it for weeks, watching the constant work being done around the school – more specifically around a certain point of the castle.
"No time like the present", he mumbled. Hogwarts was quiet - the first stars started to light up the sky - and he was under the safety of a powerful Disillusionment Charm. Being able to come and go unnoticed was a skill Corvinus sought since his childhood.
Now, it was his.
He watched as a pair of wizards opened the door he had been watching, and walked into the corridor he hid in; they talked animatedly about the progress of their work. Corvinus almost spat on the floor, resisting the urge to curse them. For now.
Adopting Muggle practices as our own – absurd. It is a blessing that our ancestors are not alive to see this.
He waited until they were well out of sight before opening the door. Corvinus was greeted with sturdy metallic tubes spread around the floor, an assortment of wooden planks of varying sizes arranged against the far wall and small items like faucets, sink taps and basins over a table to his left.
Everything seems to be in order.
This wasn't his first visit to that room. He had carefully studied the plans for the – it hurt even to think of the words – plumbing systems, learned the patterns of the pipes moving along the castle walls and foundations, and worked out his plan based on the bits of information his father was able to give him about their sacred charge.
Patience and concealment are the serpent's gifts.
He took a few steps, mindful of the signs he was taught to look for, signs that he was to ensure no wizard or witch would discover without his family's consent. Corvinus stood still, knowing that, with the right word, a trapdoor would appear before him, leading the way to a deadly force that most wizards and witches dared not even fantasize about.
"Very well, then."
Corvinus made his final preparations and found his position behind the door. Sure enough, as they did every night, the two wizards returned, their steps very loud, their chatter even louder. The Gaunt boy concentrated. This wasn't the first time he'd cast those spells. Certainly wouldn't be the last ones, either.
It all happened very quickly. As soon as the door was shut, a quick succession of curses darted out of Corvinus' wand. Both wizards dropped their own artifacts of power; they stared blankly ahead, ready to do the boy's every wish.
"Excellent. I hope you dined well. We have plenty of work to do. Get your wands," said Corvinus, watching the metal pipes with detached satisfaction.
Many hours later, two wizards woke up inside a long, dark corridor. Unable to see and now disarmed of their wands, they only had each other's nearness and their hands to sense the way forward.
They never heard it coming, and no one heard their dying screams.
Many miles up, Corvinus Gaunt sealed the new entrance to Slytherin's sanctum, closing the door to one of the many new bathrooms of Hogwarts behind him and quietly making his way to his dormitory.
The absence of some workers the next day, along with the spectacular job they had done with the room, remained as one of Hogwarts' many secrets. While they weren't impure per se, Corvinus could not bring himself to feel sorry for them.
Traitors of their blood, both of them. At least they died protecting something far more valuable than their lives would ever be.
He had to be so close.
It was always here, always near this corridor, this very floor. It felt like a small jolt of energy going down his spine.
"Tom! Fancy meeting you here!"
Curses.
"Ermintrude. I am just starting my nightly patrols."
"Not trying to sneak a peek at the ladies' bathroom, are you?"
Is she – was that a wink? What an absolute cow.
He forged a smile. "You'd best be going, it's almost past curfew."
"You probably know that already, but you won't be able to escape me forever, Tom!" the witch said between giggles, disappearing into another corridor.
If I ever have my way, you will not care to contemplate those roles reversed, stupid girl.
While he imagined creative ways to dispose of his fellow student, Tom Riddle looked once at the door Ermintrude had left half open.
Then he looked twice.
Hogwarts had, after all, gone through extensive expansion over the centuries. The entrance to the Chamber could have been disguised, could it not? The seemingly infinite disappointment accumulated over years of research leading to immovable walls seemed to wash away from his body.
Could it really be that simple?
Tom pushed the door wide open with slim fingers, momentarily forgetting his practiced composure. He closed the door behind him and proceeded to verify the stalls and walls, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
Another surge of energy rose from deep inside; this was as close to feeling aroused as Tom had ever gotten.
Where? WHERE IS IT?!
After several minutes studying the room with spells and his bare hands, Tom leaned back against the wall and let that all-too-familiar frustration ride out of him in waves of profanity. Only what came from his lips weren't curses fit for a tavern thug; instead, paced, menacing hisses that would chill a lion to its very bones shook the stall doors, his whole body attuned to the hypnotic chant of a serpent ready to sink its teeth into the prey.
Straight ahead, he saw a sink tap shining eerily, as if it pointed the way all along. Tom had just been too blind to see.
The darkness did not scare him.
The humidity and silence were not troubling.
The small bones and decaying corpses along the way? Art, if anyone asked him.
Tom Marvolo Riddle stood in front of the massive, engraved walls, caressing the entwined serpents currently preserving the legacy he longed for ever since the day he confirmed his uniqueness, his destiny for greater things. His very birthright.
He stepped through them, embracing the cold air that his ancestors had once breathed. Just beyond his reach, he felt the uncoiling totem of might that Salazar Slytherin had left him. He felt its pure, dauntless rage under his absolute control. Something primal; something so very hungry. An ancient ally to help him shape the future that Slytherin foresaw.
Tom reached the end of the chamber, softly placing his hand over the massive statue.
He could swear he heard him, that sibilant, melodic voice of his ancestor through the monstrosity that now circled him, waiting for its master's orders.
You found your way home, my son.
AUTHOR NOTE: Some of this story's parts were written under the influence. Of songs, of course.
For Salazar, "Dharma-Dhaishi no Densetsu", Masahiro Kawasaki;
For Corvinus, the first two minutes or so of "Beyond the Wasteland", Nobuo Uematsu;
For Voldemort entering the Chamber of Secrets, "Apophis", Will Loconto/Assaf Rinde.