Chapter 29

THE SECRET OF THE CHAMBER

I probably should have kept quiet about my realization of how to use the Goblet of Fire to eliminate or at least incapacitate anyone I wished, because the Goblet was quickly hidden or taken away from Hogwarts. And I had alerted Dumbledore to the unaccustomed power of the Goblet. I hoped it would not return to haunt me one day. However, it was possible I had overestimated the Goblet's suitability as a weapon. Surely I could not be the only one ever to think about it, but still no one had used it as a weapon. Perhaps that meant my plan might not work after all.

Harry was on a bad mood when he came to the Room of Requirement the day after Hallowe'en. He explained that almost all Gryffindors believed he had entered his name to the Goblet of Fire himself, even Ron. The youngest of the Weasley brothers, who had lived in the shadows of other people all his life, was ready to endanger his friendship with Harry over such a petty reason as the Triwizard Tournament.

"Well, at least this helps you see who your true friends are," I said slyly, only barely managing to suppress a mischievous smirk. "Ron is heroic enough when it comes to stopping Voldemort from stealing the Philosopher's Stone or saving his own sister, but when you're in trouble all by yourself, he abandons you. Oh, how vehemently you defended his virtuous nature when I told you how your father was betrayed to death by the very person he believed to be his best friend."

"Ron is a stupid brat," Harry said, "but a betrayal like that of Black's… no, I don't believe he'd do anything like it, ever."

"He's young, and his spite and envy will only grow in time," I claimed. "Who knows, if he thinks he can grow out of his role as a sidekick only by pledging himself to a Dark cause, he may do so. No, not Voldemort necessarily. Dark Lords come and go, and none of them is like the previous one. They all deceive the weak, the gullible, and the bitter in new and imaginative ways." As I've done to you. "Every time some of those who believe to be immune to the manipulations of the Dark Lord fall to his trap and realize their error only when it's far too late."

"Ron will come around when we solve the truth about this mess," Harry said. "I hope."

"Let's hope he'll be able to learn something from his mistakes. I wouldn't like to have a friend whose judgement I couldn't trust."

We proceeded to study the Tasks of the historical Triwizard Tournaments. Usually there had been Tasks involving dangerous magical creatures, hostage situations, basic problem solving with potions and Transfiguration, retrieving a prize, and flying – basically anything which could be solved by applying skills taught at school. To me they seemed ridiculously easy.

"You know, there is a skill of mind magic that allows you to read minds," I said. "I could dig up all the details about the Tasks from the mind of that idiot Bagman. It would be unfair, yes, but forcing you to participate is not fair, either."

"Is that legal?" Harry asked.

"It's very strictly illegal, but… the end justifies the means."

"You can do that?"

Suddenly I realized I was skating on thin ice.

"I could try," I said. "I've never had the opportunity to practise. And it's very difficult. Er… yeah, it's probably best to forget that plan. Literally. Obliviate."

After Harry's mind had been cleared of all knowledge of my dubious skills, we practised some spells normally taught to fifth-year students. I was careful not to exhaust myself, because I had to be ready for a much more important part of preparing for the First Task – and any other dangers I would ever face, for that matter.

No one questioned it when the Head Boy exited the Slytherin common room after curfew. I was almost as nervous as when I had begun the ritual to turn my diary into a Horcrux. I had made all preparations I could think of, and soon I would be immortal! The binding of Voldemort's Horcruxes had to take place in the Chamber of Secrets, the most secure of places.

I entered the girls' bathroom, opened the entrance, and flew down on my Firebolt. After landing in the tunnel, I said,

"Dobby."

No response. Either the elf was incapable of answering my summons, which was unlikely, or then the Chamber of Secrets was warded against the house-elf version of the Apparition spell. If the latter, I could not have been the first one ever to understand the deficiency in the commonly used magical security measures.

I flew back to the bathroom, and called again,

"Dobby!"

Crack.

This time the elf appeared before me as usual.

"Master Tom, sir! Dobby sensed Master Tom calling Dobby, but Dobby was unable to come! Dobby is deeply sorry, Master Tom, sir!"

"Don't worry about it, I was just testing the Anti-Apparition Ward. Bring me the three items."

"Yes, Master Tom, sir!"

Dobby vanished with a crack, was gone for a few second, then reappeared with another crack, and carried Ravenclaw's Diadem, the mysterious ring I had found in Little Hangleton, and Slytherin's Locket. I had diagnosed and tested them with every method I could imagine, and they seemed to be safe to handle, at least physically. I touched them myself for the first time, and did not suffer any curse. The only strange thing I could feel was the resonance of my fellow soul fragments with myself.

"Dismissed," I said, and Dobby Disapparated. I mounted the Firebolt again and returned to the Chamber of Secrets.

Once in the main hall, I summoned the Basilisk, and gave my instructions to it. I had planned two different command words for it; upon hearing the first one, the Basilisk was to try to break my contact with the item I was working with; upon hearing the second one, it was to bite the item with a venomous fang. Destroying a Horcrux was something I absolutely did not want to do, but it was best to be prepared to do it anyway. In case the soul fragments in the items turned out to be stronger than myself, I needed to have something fatal to threaten them with. If binding Voldemort's Horcruxes to me turned out to be impossible, the items would be useless to me, and their destruction would not be much of a loss.

I had decided to start with the ring. If I was correct, the ring had been turned into a Horcrux during Voldemort's sixth year at Hogwarts. That would mean the soul fragment inside was just some months older and more skilled than I had been when being trapped, and after breaking free I had had a year and a half to gain new skills, experiences, and power. It should be the easiest one to overpower.

But then perhaps not. What I was about to experience would most likely be some kind of battle of souls. If creating a Horcrux ripped the soul into two pieces of equal size, I, the first Horcrux created, had to be much stronger than any of the other ones. If the ring was the second one, it contained a quarter of my original soul, and the Diadem and the Locket even less. Then perhaps they would be easier to defeat.

I still decided to try with the ring, because at least it was weaker than I in two different ways.

The very first thing I did was to cast a specific Horcrux Analyzing Charm on each of the three. Its purpose was to examine whom the Horcrux was bound to. As I had expected, Voldemort's Horcruxes did not anchor me to the mortal world, and so I had to try the unprecedented: changing the master soul.

I sat down on the floor, looked up to the face of Salazar Slytherin, and took a very deep breath. Then I looked down to the ring I held on my palm. Closing my eyes, I reached towards it with my magic and cleared my mind with the meditation I had practiced in order to become an Occlumens. But this time I wanted to have a mental connection with another entity.

It felt quite similar to my attempt to change the course of Voldemort's curse of the Defence professorship, but instead of the flow of magic I sensed another human being as though through Legilimency. I sensed him so closely that I felt a strong impulse to take a step back. I also got a strong feeling of kinship; we were so alike.

The next instant I realized how mistaken I had been about souls. They were not material things that could be sliced like bread, and it had been sheer idiocy to think I had more soul than some other Horcrux. Creating a Horcrux was more comparable to the fission of a cell: both results of division were complete and entirely functional. But they still were meant to be together: splitting the soul was a violation of nature, and it caused severe mental instability, just as I had realized when studying Voldemort's actions.

What I felt was a sorry, bitter, and outright pathetic copy of myself. A series of indistinct memories flashed in my mind; I could recognize some of them, because I had experienced them too, but there were also memories of those events that had happened after the creation of the diary Horcrux. Returning to London, and the horrible apathy of the orphanage; travelling to Little Hangleton, meeting with the last Gaunt and the murders of the Riddles; returning to Hogwarts; some of the fits of rage Nott had told me about; the long-awaited discussion with Professor Slughorn about multiple Horcruxes; the ritual to turn the ring into the second Horcrux; and countless others, mainly moments of boredom and frustration.

As I faced this other Tom Riddle who was already a slightly twisted version of me, I could sense something like a bright and searing light originating in me. It felt so familiar that I could easily give it a name: Ginny. I was not sure if there really was a fragment of her soul integrated into me, or if it was just her influence, but it gave me a tremendous advantage over the ring Horcrux. Souls had no size that could be measured, but souls had individual strengths, and it was not a fixed amount. Every experience and surpassed challenge made the soul stronger, and through Ginny I had been able to overcome many of my weaknesses.

The soul fragment in the ring, on the other hand, was so drenched in misery that I was no longer at all afraid of him harming me. I felt his confusion when meeting another soul after so many decades of hibernation in the eternal dark silence, and I almost felt pity towards him. But I could not afford such feelings. I gathered my superior strength of character and slammed it against him. He let out a metaphorical scream of humiliation; it was not in any Tom Riddle's character to yield to the power of someone else, but there was nothing he could do.

The ensuing battle was not like a wizard's duel, but rather a staring contest; two wills trying to assert dominance over the other one. It was like my first meeting with Dumbledore, but this time I was the one with the upper hand. I kept beating the other Tom until nothing remained of his defiance. Then I created spiritual bonds and shackled him; there were no words to describe the exact details even if I had had some idea of what it was about. Again, I relied on intuition, hoping for a better result than the fiasco with Voldemort's curse.

Eventually I emerged from the meditation and saw the Chamber of Secrets again. The feeling of resonance with the ring seemed to have become stronger. I eagerly cast the Horcrux Analyzing Charm on it again, and felt a strong burst of triumph: it was now my Horcrux, bound to me and me alone. Finally, I was immortal!

Take that, Death! I bragged in my mind.

It had not even been difficult; I could have had it done the day I had found the ring.

I proceeded to do the same to the Diadem and the Locket. The souls within were in a much worse shape than the one in the ring; Voldemort's insanity had developed with frightening speed. They were filled with rage, bitterness, and utterly twisted pride. Wielding the bright light of Ginny I subjugated them with ease.

I looked at my three anchors of immortality. For so long I had cursed the fate of being locked in the diary, but only now I truly understood the much more horrible fate I had escaped. Creating Horcruxes was considered an abomination for a very good reason.

But now I was immune to the power of Death! And without losing my sanity! Grinning wider than ever, I stuffed the ring into one of my pockets, the Diadem to another, and held the Locket aloft, as if handing it to the statue of my ancestor. I was the Heir of Slytherin, I was in the Chamber of Secrets, and I had the Locket of Slytherin. Proudly I hung the chain around my neck and gently placed the Locket on my chest…

And at that exact moment something happened.

Light flowed into the Chamber from an unseen source. The faint feeling of ambient magic that reverberated everywhere in and around Hogwarts increased tenfold, making my own magic resonate quite violently. Then the mighty statue of Salazar came to life, the rock somehow moving fluidly. Bright lights ignited in his eyes, and he looked down at me, his descendant.

"You have found my Chamber of Secrets and brought the heirloom of my family with you," Salazar hissed in Parseltongue. "I greet you, child. If you so desire, it is time for you to learn the secret of this Chamber."

All triumphant thoughts of immortality had disappeared from my mind. Instead, I was experiencing a moment of terrified disorientation, not lesser than the one I had felt when Dumbledore had set my wardrobe of fire.

"Are – are – are you the real Salazar?" I finally managed to hiss. "Or a Horcrux, perhaps?"

Salazar did not reply. He just stared down, not moving anymore. Some of my distress lifted. It was not Salazar Slytherin that I tried to communicate with. More likely the statue was similar to the countless portraits all around Hogwarts: they contained memories of those they portrayed as well as some semblance of their personality and had a limited ability to interact with the outside world.

"I am Salazar Slytherin's heir," I said. "Did he leave a message for me?"

"I imbued this statue with important memories and information before I left Hogwarts," Salazar spoke through a thousand years. "Only my descendant who carries my Locket is worthy of hearing my words. Know this, child: I did not dare to share this information even with the other Founders of Hogwarts. My secret was too heavy a burden for me to carry. Do you want to continue my quest knowing that the burden would be yours to carry?"

I gulped.

"I will carry your burden, whatever it is."

"Then look down, child."

I had been craning my neck to see the face of the statue, and had not noticed that glowing silver markings had appeared around the place where I stood. They formed a strange yet familiar symbol: a line, inside a circle, inside a triangle. After a brief moment of contemplation I realized that it was the symbol Grindelwald had used every now and then. Apparently, he had not designed it himself, but copied an ancient symbol from somewhere else.

"See my memories, child," hissed Salazar's voice, and I noticed wisps of white mist rising from the symbol. It was some kind of a Pensieve, and as the mist surrounded me, I began to see and hear parts of Salazar's life from a thousand years past.

I saw a young man walking across a meadow towards a pastoral village, brisk, cheerful, and optimistic. If I had not known to look for similarities, I would not have recognized him as the same old man whose features had been immortalized in the statue in the Chamber of Secrets. However, there was one other thing which made it easy to guess his identity: several snakes were following him, hissing affectionately.

"I was taught in the magical arts by the village mages of Castile," Salazar's voice narrated the story behind the memory. "Before the founding of Hogwarts there were not any organized institutes for magical education. Masters taught apprentices. Some wizard children did not have true opportunity to refine their skills and powers. I was luckier than many, because in Iberia Christendom was in a constant war against the infidels of Córdoba. Every young witch and wizard was given the best possible training to give us an advantage in the war."

There were several memories of Salazar's training. Battle Magic had been central in it, and his teachers were people who would have been considered Dark witches and wizards in the contemporary age. Salazar had excelled; he had clearly had the same knack as I had in the magical arts.

"After I had surpassed my teachers, I was sent to meet other wizards and convince them to join the fight. I met with the Arch Wizard of the West, Pope Benedict VII, and continued to Constantinople to meet the Roman Emperor Basil II. On the way I visited Delphi in order to learn of the future from the Oracle. But my quest of preparing for war ended that day, because I realized Fate had a much more important purpose for me. Immediately after facing me the Oracle went into a trance and spoke the prophecy that forever changed the course of my life."

The vision showed the same young man, though fully adult now, stepping into the former Temple of Apollo, the seat of the Oracle. Salazar remembered the day with crystalline clarity, and the words of the Oracle retained their ominous tone and echo. Even though the words were not chanted in either of the languages I knew, Salazar's memory somehow allowed me to understand their meaning.

"The Dark Lord will rise
through force and deception.
Though born to those without magic,
he will command a might never seen before,
a might granted by three devices of power.
He will unleash Death into the world
and rediscover the lost power of
the fabled Sunken Empire."

I barely had time to fathom any of the massive implications of the prophecy before Salazar continued his tale.

"Afterwards I discussed with the Oracle for a long time. One thing is clear about the otherwise unpredictable art of Divination: prophecies are spoken to those who will have some role in fulfilling or averting them. Fate itself had given me the responsibility to prevent Death from being unleashed, and so I abandoned the meaningless task of gathering an army for the crusade against Córdoba. With the burden of the prophecy as my constant companion, I travelled far and wide, made friends and allies, gathered scrolls of knowledge, learned new skills… all that I did to prepare for the rise of the Dark Lord."

I saw visions of Salazar's travels. Constantinople, ruins of the Labyrinth of Knossos, Antioch, Jerusalem, Alexandria, the Pyramids of Egypt, Axum and Lalibela in Ethiopia, the House of Wisdom in Baghdad, and several sites in Persia, India, and what I assumed was Southeast Asia.

"I saw lands that have no names in Christendom, I gathered magical plants unknown to any of my teachers, I learned more lore than any wizard alive, and I befriended a Basilisk in a jungle where no man had dared to set foot in generations. Day by day my power grew, but I knew it was not enough for the quest that Fate had given me. Eventually I headed home. I had not found Atlantis, but some of the hints I had heard suggested that I had been searching in the wrong direction all along. In England there was a mysterious place. It was said that the Romans had established their settlement Londinium near an underground shrine which had been protected by an ancient brotherhood of wizards."

I knew what Salazar was about to show me before the next vision formed. The dark underground hall with a stone archway in the middle, and the tattered Veil rippling constantly even though there was no breeze. Salazar, an old man now, approached the archway carefully, and I saw briefly what was behind the Veil. The horrible and glorious being of pitch black hair, pearly white skin, and glowing red eyes was standing just on the other side, as if waiting for the right moment to step through. There was a faint smirk on his face – and then he looked straight at me, as if he was not just a part of Salazar's memory, but present in the very moment when I saw the visions. As my uneasiness grew, his smirk widened.

"There were many rumours of the Unspeakables, even that Merlin himself had been their grandmaster, but they neither confirmed nor denied them. They were totally sworn to their servitude, whatever it was. They allowed me to see the Veil, supposedly an Atlantean relic, but they shared no information with me. I went on my way, and began to fight those Dark wizards who had the potential to become the Dark Lord mentioned in the prophecy."

The vision around me changed and showed many battles and heroic moments.

"Emeric the Evil was a vile robber who had gained an incredible amount of power in very short a time. His old teacher Egbert the Esteemed asked for my help in stopping him. Egbert had been superior in power and skill to Emeric, but that had changed for a reason he did not know. He could only assume it had something to do with Emeric's fascination with the research of the late Peverell brothers. We fought Emeric, but were unable to defeat him, somehow he always got the upper hand. We grew desperate, and eventually Egbert decided to murder his former pupil. Whatever it was that had made Emeric invincible in battle, it did not protect him from Basilisk venom put into his goblet. Egbert did not want to be remembered as a murderer, and asked all his friends and allies to claim he had defeated Emeric in a duel. Later I heard that Egbert had fallen to evil as well. Dark wizards were so numerous that I began to plan better approaches to the problem."

I saw Salazar and his Basilisk – the same Basilisk that I could sense somewhere behind the vision – trudging wearily on a muddy road; the contrast to the first memory was so striking that it was depressing.

"I began to feel the weight of age, and decided that I could no longer carry the burden alone. I sired an heir who inherited my ability to speak with snakes, but soon I understood it would not be enough. That was when I met three of my old friends who were among the greatest witches and wizards of Christendom. Together with Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Godric Gryffindor I established a school of magic. We would give equal opportunities for all young witches and wizards, and I hoped they would be of help in my quest. In northern Scotland we found a powerful nexus of magic beneath some old ruins, and decided to build our own stronghold over them. I hoped Hogwarts would be the last defence against the foretold Dark Lord, and used the powers flowing through the nexus to create the mightiest wards known to the world. That was how Hogwarts was created. But there was soon a dispute between me and the other Founders."

The visions showed the familiar mountains, the valley, and the lake, and the construction of the castle I called home. The Great Hall had been smaller then; perhaps it was able to change its size according to how many students there were. Salazar, Rowena, Helga, and Godric stood in the middle of the Hall, debating heatedly.

"My fear of the prophecy was fierce," Salazar said mournfully. "The words "born to those without magic" troubled me, and I was convinced they meant that the Dark Lord would be a Muggle-born. That was why I did not want Hogwarts to teach any such students, thus to eliminate the threat of Death being unleashed. But I did not dare to reveal my true reason. If the prophecy became known, many Muggle-borns might want to become the Dark Lord, thus making the prophecy come true. The other Founders did not agree with me, and I formed a contingency plan. I made this cavern the home of my Basilisk, hoping to stealthily rid the school of the future Dark Lord. This quest, saving the world from Death, is the great purpose of my lineage, and you have now inherited it, child."

The vision faded away, and I saw the statue of Salazar once again, staring grimly down at me.

"I found a magical design from a side cavern," I hissed. "I believe it is some kind of foundation of a curse. What is its purpose?"

"I tapped into the nexus of magic," Salazar explained. "All these years some of the power has been redirected to a reservoir under this Chamber. It is a trap I laid. All that power will be turned against the Dark Lord if need be. The fate of the world is in your hands, child. Always remember the words I told all my pupils: the last enemy that shall be destroyed is Death."

With that, the light in the eyes of the statue of Salazar went out, the statue returned to its previous shape, the symbol disappeared from the floor, and the strong feeling of ambient magic lessened.

I felt exhausted and overwhelmed.

So, Salazar Slytherin had not been a blood-purist. Perhaps the whole blood purity dogma was based on incorrect interpretation of his view. It seemed likely; early members of the House of Slytherin had wondered why the Founder of their House had not liked Muggle-borns, and then they had come up with an explanation that propped their sense of self-worth. Magical nobility, of course… a reason for them to think themselves better than others even if they lacked power and talent. How un-Slytherin!

I sent the Basilisk back to its nest to slumber, and took my leave from the Chamber. I stuffed the Locket into a pocket as well, barely remembering that I had just become immortal. Somehow I doubted whether Horcruxes were a foolproof precaution against unleashed Death.

Salazar had been troubled by the prophecy, but a millennium had passed without Death being unleashed. Yet the prophecy had been told to him, so there had to have been some role for him in the events foretold by the Delphic Oracle.

Unless, of course, Salazar had heard the prophecy so that I could hear the prophecy through his memories. Was the quest meant for me all along? I certainly would take the quest seriously, because I had an intimately horrible knowledge of what would happen if I failed. When I had fainted on the Hogwarts Express before my sixth year, I had seen a vision of the world conquered by Death, and it had made me accept the profound influence Ginny had had on me – the influence I had just before used to subdue three fellow Tom Riddles.

But more importantly, who could be the Dark Lord who would be born to those without magic? My father had been a Muggle, and my mother, who had married a Muggle, had not been able to save herself from death after giving birth to me… perhaps she had been a Squib? If so, Voldemort and I were potential candidates for the Dark Lord. Somehow it seemed totally in character for Voldemort to unleash Death while trying to do something else entirely.

Then there was also Dumbledore, whose parents had been a witch and a wizard, but whose actions had made me wonder if he had some morbid plans – for the Greater Evil. Could it be possible that he had somehow learned of the prophecy and decided to use Voldemort to bring it about? Was that the reason he had done almost nothing to defeat Voldemort during the war, just letting Moody, Crouch, and the others to take charge?

Or was the future Dark Lord so clever and insidious that he would avoid all attention by playing the role of a meek fool? It was probably best to keep a close watch on Colin Creevey.

As I lay down in my bed and thought about the massive revelation, I felt cold shivers all over my neck and back. I had forgotten all my petty plans and manipulations, because what I had heard and seen was so big and significant. My quest, my purpose, was not the fight against Voldemort, or even against Dumbledore. I was but a pawn in an epic war against Death itself, continuing the fight my great ancestor had fought. But, if my assumptions were correct, both Voldemort and Dumbledore might be fighting this war on Death's side, each in their own way.

Published on the 13th of May, 2020.