Salazar entered and closed the door behind him. He relaxed his body and tried not to move, not to even blink. The ceiling of the room, now suddenly so close to its floor, was dripping with moisture. Droplets pounded on Salazar's forehead, unnaturally as black as earth. The room was shrinking every second, and he didn't know if it was claustrophobia or something else. He could feel the snake's coils tighten the circle around him.
He kept his eyes open, didn't blink. They were beginning to water when he saw, diving out of the black, two dim yellow ovals. They neared him: he could feel the basilisk's muzzle breathing on his feet.
Who are you? the basilisk said.
Salazar Slytherin, your master, he replied.
You're not my master. You smell of… mud. My master smelled of sugar.
Your master is dead. I am your new master.
The basilisk snorted. The thick gust of wind shook Salazar.
I won't bow to you. What right have you got to call yourself my master?
The right of inheritance, power, and intellectual superiority.
If snakes could smirk, the basilisk would have smirked. What makes you think you have superiority over me? You're so tiny that I can swallow you whole. To prove his point, the basilisk raised its head over Salazar and opened its mouth – Salazar could smell it, humid, carnivorous. You have no power. You are no one.
I am a Slytherin.
I don't know that.
I speak your language.
So does a mouse when he doesn't want to die.
Salazar reached into the sleeve of his robe. The basilisk's breath, with its lava-like plumes of saliva, was making him sweat. Yet he felt a cold chill proliferate in his body. His fingers grasped the hilt of the wand. He brandished it. I have my father's wand. I know you can recognize your ancestor's skin within it.
The basilisk recoiled, more out of fascination, perhaps. His eyes stayed on the tip of the baton. Slytherin junior caressed the dry cypress.
How do I know you haven't killed my master and taken it from him?
Don't be such a stick. Your master handed it to me on his death bed, and with it entrusted you to me, as his favourite pet. I am the only one that can care for you. I was present when you were born, and I fed you when you were little.
A basilisk never forgets those that feed him. The basilisk lunged a little forward. The man stepped a little backwards and felt with his hand the cool palm-sized scales. He stroked its strong, ribbed skin.
You're going to shed soon. You can't shed in a room this small. It'll choke you.
I know.
If you don't listen to me, I will have to leave you here. A basilisk is too dangerous to be left without a master. You won't think for yourself, you'll be hunted and killed, you home-bred viper.
And if I eat you?
We will both stay here. Wouldn't it be better if we walked free? My father taught me everything he knew about you – I promise I will treat you as well as he did, and try to be better. It's not a compromise, Basilisk – it's a matter of life and death.
The snake's hiss was an aquatic murmur. Basilisk never forgets those that feed him… Remind me. The snake's translucent eyelids drifted over its yellow orbs, and it retracted itself away from Salazar, resting its jaw on the pavement. Salazar rested his body against the coil of snake body behind him to move it aside. Gave up.
I want to sit.
The snake moved a lower coil outwards, knocking the man off his feet. He fell backward, into an armchair of sorts. And began.